#habitus ;; musings

[cogitxtio]

[ashenwinds]

// the fun of having a villain muse: going from being okay with everything to suddenly "I want to destroy an entire bloodline and make the last survivor squirm in agony drenched in the blood of their loved ones". . . Chi, please try to chill.

[my-t4t-romance]

GUESS WHO FINALLY CONVINCED HIS PARENTS TO LET HIM DELETE A MASSIVELY BATTERY-DRAINING, CONSTANTLY-MALFUNCTIONING PARENTAL CONTROLS VPN THAT HAD BEEN ON HIS PHONE FOR ≥6 YEARS!!!!!

[mcflymemes]

IN-DEPTH HEADCANON QUESTIONS * inspired by genetic traits that might be passed through dna

does your muse like the taste of cilantro/coriander, or are they part of the roughly 20% of people that think it tastes like soap?

does your muse consume more caffeine or less caffeine than the average person? how do they typically consume it?

does your muse have a cleft chin? is this trait visible in their parents?

does your muse love to dance, or would they rather avoid dancing altogether?

is your muse's ring finger longer or shorter than their pointer/index finger?

does your muse have freckles? if so, where are they placed? does your muse like their freckles, or wish they had some?

does your muse have a birthmark? if so, where, and what does it look like?

does your muse get "hangry" when they haven't eaten in a while?

would your muse consider themselves an extrovert or an introvert?

is your muse a morning person or a night person?

is your muse a particularly picky eater? what foods do they refuse to eat?

when your muse wakes up in the morning, do they remember their dreams, or completely forget them?

does your muse play a musical instrument? did they play one at some point?

would you say your muse is a risk taker, or do they prefer to play it safe?

what are your muse's thoughts on spicy foods?

what are your muse's thoughts on sweet foods?

what are your muse's thoughts on dairy products? do they have an intolerance?

is your muse a habitual nap-taker? how often do they take naps? how long do their naps usually last?

does your muse's face get flushed after they drink alcohol?

what type of hair do they have? how thick is their hair? do they like the way their hair looks and feels?

is your muse more of an endurance runner, or are they better at short sprints?

[nina-ya]

Ways That Law Wordlessly Says "I Love You"

Luffy Zoro Sanji Law Kid Shanks Pairing: Law x reader CW: Mentions of blood. Fluff overall. WC: 1.2k

Leaning against the railings of the Polar Tang, the moon casting its gentle glow on the calm waters, you found comfort in the rare moment of the submarine surfaced on the open sea. Law joined you, and a comfortable silence settled between you, the only background noise being the ship's engines and  the crash of waves.

“You know,” he starts, his fingers idly tracing the railings, “I’ve heard of these groups of islands on the Red Line, uninhabited and unexplored,” his fingers seem to trace circles into the railing, mimicking the islands as he continues, “I can see the entire crew living on one of those islands, just all of us together.” His fingers halt in their place, and his gaze shifts to you, “... and I see you there. I see you and me together, just living without a care in the world.” The atmosphere fills slightly with a tension and you sense a rare vulnerability in Law's demeanor.

“There's something about the uncharted,” he muses, his gaze fixing onto the stars above. “It’s just so pure and untouched. Not ruined by horrible people, and we would be the ones to shape its story.”

As he speaks, Law's demeanor softens, revealing a side of him rarely seen. His eyes hold a glimmer of anticipation, and the corners of his lips betray a subtle smile.

"I've seen enough chaos and battles," he admits. "What I want is to discover a future with someone I care about."

In the quiet between words, Law’s hand reaches for yours, fingers intertwining. "I can picture it," he confesses, "a life where you and I are free from the constraints of the world. One where we can live freely." 

The conversation drifts into the early hours of the morning, the shared hopes and dreams only giving way to the certainty of being together forever. You know Law loves you when he talks about a future with you in it. 

- - - The dim light of Law's cabin barely illuminates the room as the submarine sails through the night. As a habitual insomniac, he found himself immersed in the quiet of the late hours. Papers, maps, and various other books are scattered across his desk, evidence of a night spent deep in thought and planning.

The first rays of sun begin to filter through the porthole of his quarters, Law, weary but determined, pushes himself to finish what he has already started. Knowing that you will wake up soon, Law decides to ignore the drowsiness that threatened to consume him. Without a word, he closes his books, tidies the clutter on his desk, and heads to the kitchen.

In the kitchen, Law moves with purpose. He selects ingredients, and soon, the aroma of fresh coffee beans fills the air as he brews a strong pot for you. The soft sizzle of eggs hitting the pan accompanies the noise of the coffee dripping into the pot

Despite the evident weariness in his face, Law continues. He plates a simple yet thoughtful breakfast—scrambled eggs, toast, and a steaming cup of coffee.

Just as the sun begins to shine over the submarine, Law returns to his quarters. The signs of a long night are evident in the disheveled papers, the scattered books. Yet, on the small desk, there sits a neatly arranged breakfast tray, just for you. 

As you stir awake, the smell of breakfast fills your senses. You look over to the source of the smell and your eyes land on the desk. There, you find the meal and right next to it, lays Law, who is sound asleep. You smile softly as you take in the sight in front of you. You know Law loves you through his silent acts of service towards you.

-

-

-

The smell of blood fills the air as the battle comes to an end. Law surveys the aftermath, assigning the uninjured members of the crew to tend to the more severely injured ones as his own attention turns to focus solely on you. 

“Here, let me help you.” He commands in his usual stern tone as he guides you to a less chaotic area, the subtle urgency in his voice betraying the composed facade. He quickly starts his examination on you, not wanting to miss any bump or scratch.

As other more bruised and battered crew members come to seek medical attention from Law, he quickly dismisses them. "Give us some space," he declares, a  firmness in his voice indicating that he is not to be disobeyed.

Law meticulously examines you and your injuries, his fingers tracing every cut, every scratch, every bruise on your body as he decides his next course of action. He determines that your injuries are only surface level, but insists on staying with you and patching you up himself. 

His attention never wavers as he tends to each and every wound on you, making sure to give you extra care and love and attention. He knows the rest of his crew needs proper medical attention, but a lingering voice yells at him to make sure that you are completely taken care of before anyone else. As he applies the bandages, you can see the care and love for you he has in his eyes. You know Law loves you when he puts your health and wellbeing above others. 

-

-

- 

Law sits in a corner of his quarters engrossed in the latest issue of "Sora the Warrior." The glow of the lamp beside him casts a warm light on his face, emphasizing the focus in his features evident in the furrow of his brows. 

You enter the room, your purpose being to look for something, but your gaze falls upon Law and the unexpected sight of him being lost in a comic.  A hint of surprise crosses your face, quickly replaced by a playful smirk. Law, sensing your presence, looked up, his expression shifting from concentration to embarrassment.

Caught in the act, Law instinctively closes the comic, a poor excuse falling from his lips as he utters "It's not what it looks like," a rare flush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. His attempt at nonchalance only fuels your amusement.

You can’t help but tease him. "Didn't take you for a comic book fan, Captain," you say, a playful glint in your eyes.

Law sighs realizing he can't talk his way out of this one.  "Fine, yes I'm into comics." he confessed, embarrassment evident in his tone.

Out of curiosity,  you encourage him to share more. "Really? I had no idea you were into this stuff. What do you like about it?" you asked, taking a seat beside him.

Law hesitates for a moment before launching into an unexpectedly enthusiastic explanation. His eyes light up as he dives into the storyline, the character development, and the battles. As he rambles on, the embarrassment melts away, replaced by a childlike enthusiasm.

He begins to show you the comic, pointing out details in the artwork, discussing plot twists, and even theorizing how the story might go. The more he talked, the more animated he became, his initial embarrassment transforming into genuine enthusiasm for the comics.  You find yourself smiling in complete and utter infatuation as his more unexpected nerdy side comes out as he rambles passionately. The excitement in his voice and the sparkle in his eyes shows you a different side of Law, one that you hope to see more often. You know Law loves you when he shares his unexpected passions with you.

[dondeeee911]

How would your FS feel about your past?

It's hard to let go, isn't it?🥹

1> green tea cup 2> blue tea cup 3> pink tea cup

Pile 1

   Your FS can sense that you’ve experienced perpetual events in your past. People and mental blockages may have got in the way of your unique path, your FS can instinctively point that out. Overall, healing has become extremely important to you and your future. Some of you may look into your habitual habits and unwanted behaviors, wanting to cut ties with these inherited traits. They see you as a seeker of high morality; exuding selfless energy. A humanitarian-like personality, someone who is truly devoted to their family and peers in their community. They understand that you may have lost a sense of self when it came to being of service to others, even in the relationship you have with them. Your person is in constant admiration of you! In their eyes, you are someone who has transformed their triumphs, wounds, and goals into fruitful rewards. Your FS won’t let you slip away into the depths of your past, they are here to save you, from all of it. 🥹Your past inspires them to collaborate and do some kind of healing work with you! 

Pile 2  

     Nothing about your past you regret, confidently! Your FS gets this perfectionist streak about you. You could have advocated for something or got into leadership roles in your community. I mean nobody is perfect, but you on the other hand have managed to get through the loopholes in life effortlessly. A wise, discerning, calculated person who just knows where their next venture is. They could feel like you may have been a bit of a self-absorbed person in your past, not wanting to be interfered with. Your person understands you have an urge for forward movement and not letting too much of anything get in your way. Your FS could be intimidated by your past seeing you as an evolved person who made better choices than they did. There could be some emotional manipulation and mischief coming from your person. They could secretly try to get you off track by over-caring for you or feeling the need to make an opinion on what you could do better. Don’t let them make you feel the need to second guess yourself or feel guilty for wanting to act on something new. Can you see through the BS? You can even sniff out your person’s deceit! Can they handle your extreme confidence or their lack of resilience?

Pile 3

    Artistic expression and Romance consumed your past. Your FS could be someone you already know or a supporter of your lifestyle. Due to your need for status and constantly being desired by numerous suitors, they could have been a secret admirer of yours just hiding behind the scenes! You could have been into artistic pursuits that consisted of music, beauty, local arts, or photography. Maybe they saw your work displayed on social media, in a gallery, or just heard about it through familiar peers. You became their muse and didn’t even know it!  When they acknowledge you and what you’ve overcome in life they find meaning in the work you’ve created as if you healed yourself through it. Making you the person you are today. It heals them, you are their masterpiece, the melodic tune to their heart, they loved you through every era, your biggest fan! I wonder who it is👀 whose heart longs for YOU? If you felt called to choose pile 2 at first, I suggest you go back and read it.

Copyright © 2024 dondeeee911. All rights reserved.

[tmntxthings]

Fun fact: Turtles touch/tap the face of their partner as a form mating display, so can we get some head canons of the rise boys unconsciously/involuntarily touching their s/o face, like cupping their cheeks with one or both hands habitually whenever they're in arms length or tapping/brushing the back of their hand on s/o cheek to get their attention?

Turtle Taps

author’s note: here you are cute anon!! i was smitten with this idea but it only came to fruition bc of @marwhoa’s encouragement hehe

warnings: fluff, kisses, established relationships, unedited

—————————————————————————

Leonardo

he would poke

idk but i imagine when the two of you were close friends, borderline dating, he’d ‘annoy’ you by poking your face, especially those chubby cheeks of yours

you would complain, batting his hands away, and as friends that was fine but when the two of you started dating it would hurt his feelings

“I can’t help it!” “You’re just too cute!” He’d repeat those excuses, not truly explaining the full meaning behind his repeated actions. And Leo would’ve never told you!

The two of you were dozed off during a movie marathon in the projector room. Laying in bean bags that were pressed together, Leo had made sure his was close to yours. He woke up first and as he turned to see your sleeping form his hands went out on their own accord.

Cupping your cheeks gently and his thumbs giving soft taps. He felt so happy when you snuggled your face further into his hands. So happy in fact that he couldn’t help it when he started poking those chubby cheeks

Your eyes snapped open, “Leo!” You grumped, wanting nothing more than to fall back asleep. His hands would freeze, his eyes widening, feeling badly about having gotten caught and your rejection as you batted his hands away once again.

He quickly got up, mumbling an excuse about getting something to eat. His immediate reaction had you sitting up, feeling guilty for having hurt his feelings you finally did a google search.

‘Why do turtles tap faces?’ Upon further research after being so utterly shocked at the initial results. You felt like a fool. You got up, blushing furiously as you rushed to the kitchen. Leo was faced away from you but he heard your approach and asked if you wanted something to eat as well. “We got leftover piz-

He stopped short as he felt your hands encase his face. Then hesitantly only out of nerves, you started to lightly tap his green cheeks. Leo was a churring mess, moving too fast so he could turn to see you. You pulled back and he was smiling brightly, face awaiting for you to continue your earlier actions

So you complied, hands going out once more and you tapped his cheeks, the smile Leo gave you practically blinded you. “You could’ve told me what this actually meant!” You complained, poking his cheeks in the same annoying way he would, but he’d just nuzzle his face into your touches

“Yeah I guess I could’ve,” he mused. He had been too embarrassed to just say it. That and he just wasn’t the type to admit the truth that easily. But if he had known your reaction would’ve been this he’d have spilled sooner. You smile and shake your head, stilling your hands and pulling him close to plant a sweet kiss to his snout.

Michelangelo

Mikey would squish your face in pure excitement. He’s just so happy, he can’t contain himself, he’s squishing your cheeks together.

He could be on the whole other side of the room, or not in the same space at all, but he’ll run through the lair, find you at random and squish your cheeks together squealing about something that excited him.

Definitely happens so much that you’ve accepted it at this point, you’ll see him barreling towards you (yes he’s tackled you to the ground a couple times when you weren’t prepared for him to jump you!) and accept your fate

You try to play it off sometimes like you’re annoyed but truthfully it’s just so cute and endearing, when he’s reallyyyyy happy or when the two of you are alone he’ll squish your cheeks together and peck your lips with a soft kiss. A flurry of them too, you’re not just getting one kiss

Many many swift kisses in rapid session, and let’s say he just won in a video game, the arcade room empty except for you two, he’ll give the room a quick scan before he’s on you

“Y/n!!!! I wonnn !! Hehe did ya see??” He squishes your cheeks together while he speaks and as soon as he’s done he’s kissing you before you can answer, you hadn’t seen him win, you were playing your own game but he didn’t need to know that

Once he parted you spoke though your speech sounded slightly off because he still had his hands cupping your face, squishing, “ ‘hat’s awesome Mikey” he’d blush, coming down from the excitement

It was like his thoughts would come after he took action, taking note of his hands and how his lips felt, he’d pull you closer, slower this time and giving you a breath-taking smooch

Only this time he had forgotten to glance around beforehand so he flinched as he heard the snap of a camera. “Oh don’t mind me lovebirds, just documenting for future-“ Leo stopped midway realizing Mikey was actually quite close all of the sudden

“Give that here!! Leo!!” Mikey yelled chasing after his older brother. Of course it had been Leo, laughter and yelling could be heard throughout the lair and you were sure everyone would be witnessing this spectacle, you chuckled strolling at a leisure pace after your orange clad turtle

Donatello

Donnie brushes you with his hand

It doesn’t happen often and when it happens it surprises Donnie the most out of the two of you

He’ll be overthinking or had gotten so overworked that Donnie will blink and suddenly you’re in front of him with worried eyes, your mouth moving but he doesn’t hear anything as his hands reach out as if by instinct and he’s brushing the back of his hand against your cheek

He’s blinking slowly and watching your expression soften as you gingerly do the same to him, giving him time to move away if he doesn’t want your touch. But this time he does want it, he’s exhausted honestly but as soon as he feels your fingers brushing against his green cheek he’s sighing

Like he’s expelling all the stress and worries he had minutes earlier, he’s leaning into your touch and it’s like his battery that was depleted is now recharging

He stays there, nuzzling his face into your hand as Donnie continues brushing or just holding your face close to his own. Once he’s charged though he’ll blink and suddenly remember himself, pulling back sharply and blushing a darker green

Coughing into his fist as you pull back, smirking at his embarrassed reaction, “How about we eat some pizza and you go to bed? Hmmm Donatello??” Teasing him no doubt but making sure he understands that it’s probably best to take a break from his projects

“Sure, sure.” Donnie’s standing stiffly, one hand coming up to cover another fit of embarrassed coughs as he swiftly leaves the lab, you follow him smiling to yourself as your own cheeks felt warm.

Raphael

Raph gives you light taps

He’s always treating you with an extra amount of care. He’d never forgive himself if he was the cause to your pain.

Raph isn’t as shy as he is with his feelings towards tapping you, but he is similar in a way that he doesn’t do it super often

If you’re around and the two of you aren’t alone he’ll probably hold himself back but if you are alone he likes greeting you with light taps to your cheek

He’ll be a blushing mess, eyes cast everywhere but at you and Raph will give you sweet gentle taps, he only makes eye contact when your hands cover his, giggling at his expression

“Still so shy even after all this time?” You quip and Raph gives you a bashful grin, “Only with this!” And he’ll kiss you easily to prove the point. He definitely isn’t shy about that which shocks you more since these cute taps don’t seem that embarrassing

[pearlwithgirl]

Lamplight, Headlight, Moonlight.

Simon Riley x f!reader

Filthy smut - 1479 words

The second of many tender musings ("tender" works because of all the biting and flesh talk <3)

TW: Bites, scratches, and bruises; animalistic fucking; breeding; use of "bitch" (not in Simon's dialogue)

It started off as most of your trysts did. Habitual, comfortable, but not monotonous or passionless - oh no, quite the opposite. 

Simon sinks his teeth into you, suckling at smooth skin and adorning you with yet another set of glowing crescents. Low and dulcet, he moans into the meat of your thigh, a fleshy dessert after gorging himself on your sweet cunt for what felt like an eternity. 

He’d left you hanging on a precipice, dangling in the blinding glow of orgasmic bliss like a little flashing crystal hanging on a line in the bright sun. 

Like prey. Routine. 

You’re still puffy and sensitive, trickling juices that he pauses to lap up between mouthfuls of hide. Your body’s split-second reaction is to jolt and tense up at the feeling. To recoil, because it hurts, doesn’t it? 

You want to pull back, to scramble away at the deep sting, but you don’t. You love this. You accept it greedily, because he knows just what you need. You curl your hands into his ashen waves and yank him in for another sharp bite, as if he could get any closer - because it hurts so fucking good.

Simon creeps up over your belly and past your breasts until he reaches your tender neck to suck blossoming bruises into your skin, laving his tongue over your thrumming pulse. 

He nocks the blunt head of his cock against your twitching entrance, meeting your gaze and waiting for a sign. You can feel him throbbing already, leaking precum onto your hole. You nod almost desperately, and he slides home in one smooth stroke, bathed in blissful rapture.

He breathes out a delicate moan, a sweet zephyr in a register that nobody else gets to bear witness to. They don’t see this soft expression, eyes half-lidded, long-healed pink lines streaking across his flushed cheeks. He’s painted with a cherubic blush and his bottom lip is drawn between pearly teeth, plush and pink. 

It’s almost funny. Everybody outside this room gets something so brash, cold stares and no-nonsense orders, barked-out laughs and grumbled praises for those who are among his inner circle. 

Not you. You get the mild side, the pretty pout that looks nearly angelic in the soft lamplight behind him. It truly resembles a halo, incandescent luminescence shining over pale locks and radiating around his crown as he languidly drags his cock over that gummy spot on your front wall. 

You have to giggle at the juxtaposition of it all. A tremor that causes the change in atmosphere, nudges the falling domino that spills the sable wax and seals your fate. That little amused huff that made your chest quake - barely perceivable to most, but then again, Simon isn’t just any animal, is he? 

He leans back onto his haunches and cocks his head at you. 

“Something funny, doll?” 

It falls off his dusky lips with a tinge of affectionate snark, probing, curious.

You don’t answer. 

‘Nothing wrong, I just think you’re sweet.’ Is what lies on the tip of your tongue, but nothing comes out. 

You just remain zeroed-in on that panting mouth, eyes creeping lower over his heaving chest, his glistening abdomen, those slim hips that taper down to where his thighs flex and bulge…

Your wandering gaze flits back up when he prompts you once more. You’re frozen, lashes fluttering as you blink slowly at him, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

“Your mind wandering?” He drawls out, the corner of his mouth creeping up into a sly smirk. “Is this not enough for you tonight? D’you need more from me?” 

“How could it possibly get any better?” You quip back in a plucky tone, mirroring his smirk and flashing a teasing glint with those glassy doe eyes. 

The air is sucked out of the room, a tangible shift, that halo obscured by a darker miasma of lust and insatiable hunger. You should have known better than to provoke a beast like him. You’ve challenged an apex predator.

The smirk drops momentarily. Cogs turn in his mind - it comes back as a grin peeling across his face. Your juices and his saliva catch the light filtering through the rosy bulbs strung up around your bed posts, tinted red all around his mouth, dripping from that ravenous maw. He licks his lips, leveling you with a carnal leer. You clench around him and that broad smile beams even wider. 

He leans in close enough for you to feel the perfumed puffs of breath along the shell of your ear. His tone is hushed, but it’s dripping with lust-soaked venom. 

He brushes his fingertips along your thighs and and hooks his hands under your knees, pressing your legs far back and priming your pussy to be filled to the brim by his heavy cock and heavier thrusts.

 “As you wish, pet.” He murmurs, the phrase rumbling through you like the warning growl of a starved lynx.

The very next moment, he’s buried to the hilt, setting a punishing pace, looking right through you to your gooey centre with wild, frenzied eyes.

He plunges over and over into the searing heat of your cunt, dragging you closer to the edge once again with every minute that ticks by.

You’ve offered yourself up like some sacrificial lamb, bared your delicate throat to this great beast of a man, and you couldn’t be happier. 

You’re not a lamb at all - you weren’t asking him some throwaway question. Deep down somewhere, right beside your warm, beating heart - you knew it was a provocation, didn’t you? 

You fucking minx. 

You’re a lesser predator yourself, yet here you are yowling like a beautiful little bitch in heat. Just like you wanted. Just like he knew you needed.

He’s just a man and the moon is nothing but a razor-thin sliver slicing through the sky, but when he tilts his head back, slinking closer and closer to his release, you think he might let out a howl. Your pale blonde beast, snarling in the soft, creamy light of the paper lantern hanging from your rafters. 

You tip your own head back and the gentle hand cradling your skull tightens its grip. He licks into your mouth, exchanging feverish kisses and hot breaths. He’s panting, littering dirty phrases between your punched out gasps and squeaks that punctuate every unrelenting thrust into your soft, warm cunt.

You catch a masochistic glint in his eyes as you scratch long stripes into his back and nearly pierce him through with a sharp gaze that screams, begs - ‘Breed me. PLEASE.’

A reedy whine tears its way out of your throat as you clamp down around him, lofted up into the sweltering air to mingle with the harsh grunts rumbling their way out of his chest.He won’t be far behind you, his rhythm growing stuttered and syncopated. 

There are a million disjointed thoughts swimming in your soupy mind, but you’re far too lust-addled and fucked-out to string them together. You’d like to be eloquent, to tell him what a good boy he is for blessing you with his impending orgasm and painting your walls creamy white, but that’s utterly impossible right now. All you can let out are broken babbles and whimpered chants of his name, but these are just as enticing and poetic to his finely tuned ears. 

You nearly lose yourself in the blinding pleasure of these heavy thrusts as he gets ready to fuck you full, but he doesn’t let you. He’s got you by the scruff, and he doesn’t even need to say anything - you know well enough by now what that look means.

'Look. At. Me.'

So you do. You lock eyes with him as his face twists with pleasure and his hips meet yours in a chorus of wet smacks. His sharp gaze softens as he falls prey to his pleasure and careens off the edge, knocking his forehead against yours. 

He lets your thighs drop back down after pumping you full of every last drop he has to offer, and as routine dictates, his wolfish grin goes all soft and gooey just as fast as it appeared. He drops the woozy smile to lean in for a sloppy kiss and collapses on top of you, bracketing you in and placing his weight onto his elbows.

“S’that “better”, sweetheart?” He asks, voice muffled against your dewy skin. 

“It was perfect. It’s always perfect.” You respond, cum-drunk and hazy.

He huffs a laugh into your neck, redistributing his weight until he can fully relax his burning muscles without crushing you. He’s draped over you, still breathing heavily and quickly approaching a deep sleep. 

You let him rest for a bit, stroking his back as he peppers feather-light kisses across your chest.

You’ve tamed him once more, gazing at the waxing crescent while a shameless smirk graces your lips.

Little minx.

[cogitxtio]

[captain-hawks]

Happy spicy sleepover 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

I feel like Wriothesley deserves to fuck someone’s face? Only you can tell me what that’s like.

Xoxoxo

@mojogojocasahouse

wriothesley x f!reader

c: rough oral sex, masturbation, 18+

-> spicy sleepover saturday

Wriothesley probably shouldn’t be doing this.

But with weeks worth of stress from unrest and issues running rampant throughout the prison weighing heavily on his shoulders, the space beneath his eyes dark from a lack of sleep and his mood equally bitter to match, he slipped today.

He slipped, his normally well-contained self control tumbling off the edge as your habitual verbal sparring struck a particularly raw nerve today when he paid a visit to your workstation in the Production Zone.

This was nothing new between the two of you—your dynamic a constant push and pull to see just how far you could push the Duke with your remarks, an endless spew of suggestive comments and argumentative, teasing statements designed to drive him up a wall. But you weren’t the first prisoner to shamelessly flirt with him, and you certainly wouldn’t be the last.

(And while he wasn’t wholly immune to his attraction to you, something he couldn’t deny, that was something he could handle alone with his hands in the privacy of his office.)

But today—today was a problem.

Today, Wriothesley had been absolutely intent on avoiding you, last night’s fantasy of your face covered in thick, hot ropes of his cum as his hips jerked hard into his tight fist still too fresh in his mind alongside a slew of aggravating tasks this morning. 

But his foul mood and waning restraint was no match for your remarks today (“Your Grace, I really think you need to get lai—”), the smirk on your face having only grown wider as he crowded you into a dark corner behind one of the machines and lowly growled, “I would truly love to know what a single fucking day of peace around here would look like, ideally one where you remember who I am, mind your words, and close your mouth for once.”

He should have known your reply wasn’t headed anywhere good, not when you’d taken your bottom lip between your teeth, tilting your head to the side slightly as you mused, “I mean, if you’d like to shut me up yourself, you’re more than welcome to.”

He’d snapped.

He shouldn’t fucking be doing this.

He shouldn’t be staring down at you kneeling down on the floor in front of him in his office, watching his cock disappear between your full lips.

He shouldn’t be inhaling sharply as you run your fingers over his balls, shuddering at the feeling of you moaning around his shaft. 

You’re a goddamn inmate under his watch—a prisoner nonetheless, despite the decidedly petty charges you’d been brought in for. 

(It’s neither here nor there that if he’d run into you above Fontaine’s depths, his gaze meeting your bright eyes and witty smile across a market stall, the two of you likely still would have ended up like this.)

(Somehow, somewhere.)

“I won’t break, you know,” you murmur, lips glossy with spit as you pop your mouth off of his cock and glance upward, lazily stroking him.

He stares down at you, something hot searing in his gut as you continue, “Shut me up like you mean it. I can take it.”

Something hot flares in his gut at the challenge in your words, the way you run your tongue over your bottom lip before engulfing his length in the wet heat of your mouth once more. But this time, you go further, taking the full length of his cock between your pretty lips and moaning as you begin to deep throat him.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, marveling at your clear lack of a gag reflex, one hand scrambling in the air for purchase before grasping the lip of his desk behind him.

His hips begin to involuntarily cant forward as you swirl your tongue around his shaft, saliva dripping down your face while you suck him off so deeply his balls are nestled against your chin. You reach out, grasping his free hand and placing it on the back of your head, and it’s then that he fully understands exactly what you intend for him to do.

His arousal flares white-hot, dangerous and molten as it floods his veins and douses the rest of his senses, whittling his thoughts down to a desperate, near feral need. 

Wriothesley gives one experimental thrust into your mouth, and the sultry, needy moan that vibrates along the pulsing length of his cock is all the encouragement he needs.

“Touch yourself,” he murmurs as he begins to fuck your mouth, the intensity of his pleasure only growing hotter at the sound of your zipper sliding down.

It’s the lewd squelch of your undeniably wet cunt—soaking wet for him—as you slip your fingers between your folds that sends Wriothesley past the point of no return, roughly fucking your mouth like his life depends on it. On filling your mouth with so much cum it overflows, dripping hot and sticky from between the barrier of your lips. 

He nearly forgets how to breathe as his pleasure reaches the precipice, his rock hard cock throbbing and aching with so much desperate pleasure he’s on the verge of blacking out, and your watery eyes meet his as you whimper around him, coming on your fingers. And then he’s coming hard down your throat—so hard that he’s not sure when the ropes of cum will cease to stop pouring out of him. And you’re not complaining, swallowing all that he gives you and milking his cock for every last drop.

When he finally pulls his half-hard shaft out of your mouth, one last thick spurt drips onto your lips, and you swipe it away, offering him a coy smile as you lick the cum off of your thumb and ask, “Feeling any better, Your Grace?”

[snow-in-space]

Why Stan’s Winning Against Ford (Respectfully):

(This post is clearly all my opinion, so it’d be really cool to hear from Ford fans if you disagree or not!)

Originally I was just going to reblog @skipppppy ‘s poll about who the better twin is, but I got caught up making these joke bulletin boards:

And now, some joke bullets:

I want to make it clear that I love both characters, but I also need to tell you that I have a favorite, and it’s Stan. I don’t know how to explain it exactly, except that one of these men will make a “my aim is getting better” joke at a very poignant and dramatic moment to one up a mentally + physically abusive demon that has been violating his bodily autonomy for weeks on end— the other will make a “her aim is getting better” joke at the completely wrong time because he thought it was really funny. Although the stakes are so much higher, Ford ‘wins’ his interaction in a sense, and Stan ‘fails,’ leading him to harass children out of loneliness until he gets the lake police called on him.

I don’t know why that speaks to me more, but it does.

- Ford is fascinating as a man both made and destroyed by his own ambition, and Stan punched a dinosaur in the face for his niece’s pet pig.

- Ford took the advice of a literal demon over the concerns and fears of his oldest friend— Stan habitually robs businesses and anyone who lets him into their home without thinking twice about it.

- Ford is a loser who likes DD&D despite having seen creatures beyond most people’s imagination first hand— Stan sells people “a rock that looks like a face” only because he knows they’re dumb enough to buy it.

- Ford guts aliens and monsters on crazy, wild adventures— Stan runs a humble, small town business where he glues dead animals together for a living.

- Ford is wanted across the multiverse for committing crimes to take down Bill (he writes Stan off as a selfish criminal most of his life, despite justifying all his own crimes). Stan is a wanted man because he has committed “llamacide.”

- Ford grew up a genius and prodigy, lived his dream, gained a close friend and a ‘muse’— then squandered it all on accident by being a little dummy dumb who ignored all the warnings because he wanted to be famous (and not just FAMOUS, but unsurpassably famous, which is why he wouldn’t settle for anything less than his research and the portal). He spends the next thirty years dedicating his life to destroying Bill, because it’s for the greater good (and revenge, and is another high stakes goal for him to chase). Stan grew up to be a criminal and con artist, lost everything and everyone, worked endlessly and thanklessly for thirty years to get his brother back— for nothing more than that— and he still ships pugs in barrels across the Mexican border just because.

- Ford is a nerd facing nerd-like cosmic horrors and consequences. Stan is a man who has suffered earthly horrors and endorses child labor, but also gets his hands dirty in unearthly horrors because of said children.

- Ford shocks his brother by being hella buff and capable and involved with the demon bringing about the apocalypse. Stan shocks his brother by stealing his house, name, and everything else, and then committing more crimes.

- Ford felt stifled by other people and only wanted sidekicks he could project himself onto (he’d sooner fight god than come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t discarded/betrayed by the people he cared about, but instead mistreated them. Luckily he’s fought god and now he has no other excuses). Stan’s support system threw him out as a teenager and he’d blamed himself ever since. He’s alone until Soos and the kids come into his life and doesn’t take them for granted.

- Ford was further isolated and taken advantage of by Bill, facing great personal damage as a result. Stan takes advantage of countless others, but can’t click with anyone enough to cause any personal damage.

- Ford’s whole story feels so polished, dark, mature and professional— very fitting for a horror novel or sci-fi protagonist. Stan’s story is largely told through crude jokes in a children’s comedy show, but is still so rough on a closer inspection that it doesn’t get lost in its oddities.

In summary, it’s up to preference, but there is an interesting distinction in experience:

Liking Ford = a thoughtful analysis of an interesting man that makes me say, “lol, why’d he do that?” when he does something cute or stupid.

Liking Stan = asking myself “lol, why’d he do that?” every minute or so, and realizing I wasn’t ready for the thoughtful analysis that would take over my brain, but not change the absurd mess of his actions whatsoever. He has the comedy AND tragedy on lock.

[hanibalistic]

#6F417E | EARTH-42 MILES MORALES.

genre | fluff, faint angst / reader is gn

synopsis | miles found you fainted in an alleyway one day, except you died two years ago.

word count | 3440

warning | brief mention of injuries / use of spanish phrases translated from the internet :( let me know if i'm wrong about anything! / everything i know about e-42 miles morales is from the movie 

note | not the proudest of my writing here. also, a disclaimer that the events in this fic will deviate from canon haha

parts | one, two, three, four

"Uncle Aaron, I think we forgot to get detergent."

"You forgot to get detergent. I didn't forget nothing."

Miles's shoulders slumped in distaste. His frown mirrored the quiet complaints he spilled out of his mouth as his fingers tugged at the grocery bags dangling on them. He must have been delirious to still forget an item written on a piece of paper and to think the word 'detergent' wasn't even crossed out on the grocery list his mother gave him. It wouldn't be too big of a deal, but he imagined his mother would be mumbling about it as she set the table for dinner. 

The doorknob fumbled a bit before the door swung open. The brightness in your eyes dimmed upon seeing Uncle Aaron's furrowed brows, which reminded you of the cautionary tale he kept retiring about being aware of opening doors to unknown knocks in case of danger. You still had difficulty getting used to a dangerous Brooklyn because yours was bright and sunny, and it had its very own Spiderman. Miles had laughed when you told him about your Brooklyn, asking if there was a ranking for crime fighting bug of the week; Spiderman today, something like Ant-man tomorrow?

“If I’d been a serial killer–“

“Which you are not,” you sang with vague cheerfulness as you tried to take the groceries from his hand. 

“Hence the question being hypothetical–“

“Miles! You’re home!”

“Mi vida.” It was not audible. He opened his arms habitually and let you dive into his embrace. “How’s your day? Did you glitch?” 

You perked up from where you buried your face in his shoulder and examined the bracelet permanently latched around your wrist. Gwen was the one who put the finishing touches on it, and she was so excited about the product that she came over in the middle of the night to hand it to you. It has been about two weeks since you began wearing it, and you have not glitched once. You told Miles it should be safe to conclude that the bracelet worked, but he always asked for good measures anyway. 

“I helped around the house, as always,” you replied. Fixing the bracelet, you felt a soft magnetic pull against the tips of your fingers that touched the metal. You let go of it and rested your chin on Miles’s shoulder, sighing in contentment at the mere solidity of his body. “I didn’t glitch.”

Knowing that he was not being paid attention to, Aaron decided against scolding you for cutting him off twice. Instead, he rolled his eyes and turned to the kitchen, where Rio was shifting through a stack of sealed envelopes. He placed the groceries on the square table in the middle of the kitchen and smacked his teeth, looking pointedly at Rio as he nudged his head toward the apartment door.

Rio didn’t have to look to know you two were stuck in each other’s arms by the door. She smiled, shifting through the letters carefully with a shake of her head. “He is happy, Aaron.”

“Happy enough to cut me off my sentence,” he scoffed before adding, “twice.”

“I’m sure they will apologize if you say something,” she mused. “Especially [Name]. They’re a good kid.”

Aaron’s eye twitched in dismay. Rio was right—you were a good kid. He couldn’t hate you enough to delude himself into believing otherwise, and of course, he didn’t actually hate you. Besides the apparent naivety he suspected came from living in a safe Brooklyn, nothing about you was blatantly dislikable. You were helpful, albeit not the brightest learner. You listened well, which could be a product of being in another’s hospitality. And, most importantly, you were Miles’s safe place. For the first time in years, Aaron could see his nephew find time to be the teenager he was supposed to be. You practically breathed life into him, which worried Aaron the most.

You were a second chance that Miles was unwilling to let go of, but whether you return to your Earth was not his decision. What would happen to him when you leave? You would destroy him. 

“I got the groceries, Mrs. Morales!”

Rio dropped the envelope in her hand and smiled upon your arrival. "Mi amorcito!" 

You tilted your head with a thoughtful grin after you put the grocery bag next to all the things Uncle Aaron had taken out of the one he was holding. When Rio flashed you a questioning look, you shrugged. "Miles called me that before. I didn't know what it meant."

A choked-out cough sounded from behind all three of you, and standing by the kitchen sink was Miles, gripping the edge of the sink and coughing out the water that ran down the wrong pipe. Rio covered her teasing smile with a hand, but her shoulder moved to the gentle beats of her lighthearted chuckles. Aaron stared at his panicking nephew, a tinge of judgemental pity laced in his eyes. 

Slamming his fist to his chest, Miles swung around to glare between the three of you before his eyes landed on your curious face. “What are you talkin’ about?”

"When did he say that to you?" Rio asked. 

You rolled your eyes skyward. If you remember correctly, it was during the first few glitch attacks when you would break down from the sheer pressure of it. He had encouraged you to sleep with him on those nights, and you gladly accepted the offer. It was during one of those tearful nights, you believed. He had whispered it when he thought you were asleep, with teary hiccups still occupying your body's consciousness, and you remembered he had been stroking your hair to lull you to sleep. Everything about him was tender during those nights—his touch, voice, and presence. Unbeknownst to you, its cause was that he physically could not muster any energy when you suffered. 

"He must have thought I was sleeping," you said, then you looked sheepishly at Miles, who returned it with a sneer. “I wasn’t asleep yet.”

“Clearly,” he muttered. 

"I didn't take you for someone who would sneak into people's rooms when they're sleeping?" Aaron chimed in. 

“I didn’t!” Miles groaned in embarrassment. “They cry like hell whenever they glitch. What was I supposed to do?”

“I did cry like hell when I glitched,” you said in agreement as you turned around from the kitchen cabinet where you were stocking the cleaning supplies. “I was the one who looked for him, actually. I couldn’t fall asleep alone. The glitching was terrible.”

Aaron’s eyes darted between you both. Miles reached out for you, his arm moved boldly, but the tip of his finger that touched your shoulder to get your attention was timid and boyish. He exhaled when you smiled at him, and the faintest smirk only you could discern to be a curve of contentment grew on his face as you walked near him. You scrunched your nose into a tight-lipped smile when he muttered something only you could hear, likely giving an unnecessary explanation for his comment on you crying like hell. 

The rate you two could engage in your own world was almost admirable if Aaron wasn’t so cautious of Miles’s growing feelings for you. But watching as you two helped each other stock the kitchen cabinets, shoulders brushing and shoving playfully, he knew he couldn't do anything. 

"We forgot to get detergent."

Rio gasped. She glanced at the washing machine filled with dirty clothes waiting to be cleaned, one of which included her work uniform, and she sighed. She would have to wear the one she did on her last shift. “I guess I’ll make a run to the store after my shift ends,” she mumbled with a thoughtful hum. “Or I can do it later on the way to the bank. I needed to deposit something.”

“The bank closes at six,” Aaron said questioningly.

“They have a drop-off box that opens through the night. It’s super convenient,” she clarified with a finger snap. “I’ll just stop by briefly before my shift starts. I might forget tomorrow.”

“Your shift starts at twelve, right?”

“Yeah,” Rio nodded, “overnight.”

“You gonna eat dinner with us?”

“I will,” she nudged her head toward where you and Miles were bickering about the washed dishes, “if those two would step away from the stove so I can cook something!”

The two of you froze up at Rio’s demanding tone. Quickly organizing the knickknacks on the dish rack next to the stove, not forgetting to scoff at each other about storing the utensils, Miles ushered you out of the kitchen with his hands clamped over your shoulders. Uncle Aaron watched your backs disappear into Miles’s room, and he saw your ridiculous faces trying to hold back from laughing at what he could only assume was an inside joke, as nothing was amusing about this situation. He gulped—he couldn’t do anything about Miles’s feelings for you.

The only thing more dangerous than a teenage boy in love is the person he is in love with. Taking you out of the picture would do nothing but bring Miles out of the canvas with you, leaving two vacant spots once close together. If you left, you would destroy him, but more importantly, he wouldn't hesitate to follow you everywhere. If you jumped the universe, he would jump the universe. If you got stranded in purgatory, he would strand himself in limbo. If you went to Hell, he would go to Hell because, at some point, it stopped being a biblical state of eternal torture. At some point, Hell is not a place; Hell is just where you are. And Miles would follow you there, always. 

You jolted up with the television screen flashing at your face. Even in your sleep, your body subconsciously remembered there was something you need to do. Before Rio left for her shift, which was just a little after Miles and Uncle Aaron left for the occasional hangout, she gave you a sealed envelope to deposit into the bank mailbox because you insisted that you were going to head outside for a short walk of fresh air anyway, so you might as well help you with this tiny task. Except you fell asleep on the couch after getting ready and woke up at one o’clock in the morning.

Scanning the quiet apartment, it was easy to tell nobody had returned home yet. Rio wouldn’t be home until early in the morning; Miles tended to get home around two to three o’clock when he was off with Uncle Aaron doing who knows what. Leaning your head against the couch cushion, you drew a mental map of the path to the bank before closing your eyes. If you jogged, a round trip would take you roughly fifteen to twenty minutes. Not a problem! 

Sliding off the couch, you reached into your crossbody bag that was big enough for a phone to feel for the envelope Rio gave you. It was still in there. You zipped the bag and patted it twice for safety, then fixed your jacket sleeves in preparation for the chilling night breeze. Turning off the television and the living room lights as the last step, you grabbed the house key lying in a bowl with some loose change and left the apartment. 

Keeping up a light jog was easy under this cold weather and the dark streets. You liked walking at night, but you were never outside this late. There were no cars or people, much unlike the bustling morning you preferred much more. Uncle Aaron’s cautionary tale repeated in your head and increased your speed through the empty pedestrian road. The more you stayed outdoors, the more you thought it a bad idea to be outside at this dead time. 

“What? What is–what?” you muttered as you moved your body about. 

Glaring at you was the metal deposit box enclosed in the bank walls. It took you a hot minute to find it because it was behind a wall off the side of the building where the ATMs were. You thought it was a terrible design choice only because you couldn’t find it immediately; it would not have been if you managed to. The second hurdle came when you realized the handle to the mailbox wouldn’t budge. 

“How do you open this?” you laughed as you gave the handle another pull. When the metal texture began hurting your skin, you let go to loosen your jacket sleeve until it reached your palm so you could use the thick fabric as a shield. This time, you put a leg up on the wall to use it as leverage. You pulled again. Nothing happened. Huffing in dissatisfaction, you pointed at the mailbox as if it could understand you. “You’re really–mhm!”

The swift kick to the wall could be heard. Miles perked up to where the soft rummaging noise came from and squinted his eyes behind the prowler mask. He scanned the area carefully, looking for any signs of people to find none. He remained tense even as he dropped the matter—gritted teeth and clenched jaw over a bank heist only a few days in planning. He has done this many times before. Maybe not robbing a bank specifically, but criminal activities were no longer a stranger to him as they were. He would even say he enjoyed it; he liked being strong, and it was a source of easy money. However, the main reason why he turned to a life of crime was to distract himself from the death of his father and you. Now that you were here to repaint a corner of his world with colors again, being a prowler was losing its appeal. 

"Miles."

He snapped out of his trance at his uncle's impatient voice screeching through the earpiece, and cleared his throat. "Sorry. What's up?"

"What's up?" His uncle sounded incredulous. "Are the bombs set up?"

"Oh–uh, yeah." He peeked out from behind the bush to check out the blinking red light he set up at the foot of the gate. "They're all set up."

"And you? You got your head in the clouds just then.”

“I’m fine, Uncle Aaron,” Miles clarified with the kind of grit that would have gotten him in trouble usually. He took a deep breath. “Let’s detonate them so we can move on from here.”

The other end shuffled and scratched; its noise muffled the careless footsteps behind the ATM wall.

“Detonation in three….”

You pouted when you shoved the envelope in your bag, still mumbling about not finding an opening to the night deposit box. It was a good enough reason to give Rio tomorrow when she returned home from the hospital; that metal handle would not budge!

“Two…”

Miles perked up at the familiar figure trailing slowly by the bank entrance where he set a bomb device. His ears did not deceive him when he thought he heard footsteps somewhere, and neither was Uncle Aaron wrong about his head being in the clouds! Nobody should be out to the bank at this forsaken time, but his surprising lack of attention made him miss the slow walker—he tilted his head—a slow walker wearing a jacket he remembered he also owned.

You blew raspberries as you patted your bag twice for safety measures. When you looked up, you met eyes with a figure in a purple suit. His stance seemed agitated, and Miles was. He cursed under his breath when he recognized your face, his legs already bringing him out from hiding. What were you doing here? You should be at home!

“One.”

“Uncle Aaron, no!”

The ground shook under your feet, but what made you lose your balance was the impact of the sudden explosions that came in three—bang, bang, bang! The bank building was collapsing, or perhaps it was only in the process of being destroyed? You didn’t get a chance to see clearly. You could hear the alarm bells, though. It wasn’t the wailing kind; it was the kind that rang non-stop. 

Meeting with the ground was not an extraordinary experience for you, but it felt worse than being pushed in this case. Face planting on marble tiles was mentally more endurable than outdoor brick floors. At least you thought that way for now. A groan left your lips as your brain was overloaded with sensations; you absorbed too much, from the alarm noises to the growing pains at the bottom of your body. You groggily looked to where it came from and saw glass shards sticking to your legs through the fabric of the pants. Great. Turning away from them, you noticed your bracelet scratching up tiny sparks, and you couldn’t bring yourself to wonder if you’d broken it.

“Oh no–shit! No, no, no, ¿por qué estás aquí?” Miles unmasked himself, showing his anxiously darting eyes. His hands hovered over your body indecisively, but he felt his fingers inching toward your face where blood trickled down the side of your skin. Miles needed to look through your hair for the source. Curling his arm under your neck, he lifted you to his chest. “Oh no, oh no. Lo siento, lo siento, lo siento–no quise hacerlo.“

You stirred upon his voice phasing in and out of your muffled hearing. Even with the migraine, you could recognize his voice. He was spilling words you didn’t understand, but some of the vocabulary you knew he had said to you before. Mi cariño, mi corazon…mi vida—he whispered that to you today when he came home from school. He probably didn’t think you heard, but you did. You exhaled, then an exhausted whimper pushed itself out of your mouth when the breathing hurt your throat.

He quickly regained his composure upon seeing a sign of life, immediately hooking his arms under your knees, pulling you to his chest, and leaping away from the falling debris. The sight of you bleeding and injured was all too familiar to him. But instead of letting the flashbacks stop him in his tracks, he planned to do something he couldn’t last time—saving you or at least trying to save you.

Returning to where he was hiding, away from the burning building, Miles scanned his surroundings. “Uncle Aaron! Uncle Aaron, help!”

“Miles!” Aaron emerged from the shadows. “We have to go now, we don’t have time–“ he stopped at the sight of you in Miles’s arms–“what happened?”

“They were here–I don’t know why! They’re not supposed to be out here at this time!” 

You remembered how he carried you, which seemed to always be bridal style. It wasn’t as if he did it all the time, though. His hand on your back felt much weirder, too, like he was digging claws into your skin to keep you in his arms. If your senses had gathered better, you would have teased him with the hope that he hadn't gotten tired of you joking about his feelings for you. Licking your dry lips, you rolled your head to meet his chest. It heaved with each word he hollered beyond the fire, the alarm bells, and the disagreement coming from his uncle. They were arguing about where to go. Miles clutched your body closer to him every now and then. He was hell-bent on bringing you to seek medical treatment, and his uncle was not.

“Gwen is waiting!”

“She would want me to help [Name]!”

“We triggered the alarms, so law enforcement will gather here!” Aaron argued. “The police can bring them to the hospital just fine! We need to stick to our plan!”

“[Name] is dead on record. We can’t just bring them to the hospital!” Miles said. “I’m taking them directly to mom.”

A foolish boy. “You’re gonna throw away everything we built.” It was more than just doing crimes, it seemed. There was a bond, a mutual trust built in the process that was on the verge of collapsing. “For that.”

Miles widened his eyes in disbelief. He had his doubts about the way his uncle felt about your existence. Still, he held out hope that the aloofness resulted from the great unknown of the multiverse and Aaron’s personality rather than that he thought your presence was a nuisance. Supposed he was wrong. The casual dehumanization was all he needed to decide how to proceed. Miles hopped a few steps back, his brows furrowing and his grip on your firm. 

“Tell Gwen I’m sorry.”

Aaron clicked his tongue. “Tell her yourself.”

[makeitmingi]

Cause Baby You're My Muse [Chapter 53]

Genre: Romance, Idol!AU, Music, Slight angst

Pairing: Mingi x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Producer!Reader, IdolLyricist!Mingi, IdolProducer!Hongjoong, Idol!Seonghwa, Idol!Yunho, Idol!Wooyoung, Idol!San, Idol!Yeosang, Idol!Jongho, cameo(s) by other celebrities

Summary: You always preferred producing underground, having an unknown face and governed by your own rules. But when you start freelancing for idol groups, you say goodbye to your lone wolf lifestyle as you learn to work with idol producers and lyricists.

Word count: 3.2K

"Are you done with your breakfast?" You asked Haneul. She nodded, going to put her dishes in the sink and washing her hands. You ushered her into the bedroom.

"Sorry, you'll have to stick with me for a bit, baby. Until I get your school sorted out." You told Haneul as you dressed her.

"It's okay, unnie. I can read while you work!" She giggled. You wished you were like Haneul, open and happy to accept the new challenges ahead of you in an entirely new country. But you were scared to do this all on your own. Your support system was gone, this was your new home now.

"Thank you." You kissed her forehead and stood up once she was dressed. Haneul waited patiently for you to get ready. You also packed some snacks for her to have if she'd like.

"Alright. Let's go." You held her hand and left the apartment. You called for a cab to take you to the office building.

"Wow, it's huge." Haneul said in awe, pressed to the window, as the cab pulled up to the building.

"Thanks. Keep the change." You handed the cab driver the money and ushered Haneul out. Habitually, you bowed to the doorman that opened the door for you.

"Hi, can I help you?" One of the guards asked in English, probably cautious of you in a mask.

"Umm, I'm looking for-"

"Producer Indigo!" Someone shouted in Korean. You and Haneul turned around to see a lady rushing over to you. She was dressed in office wear, with files and papers in her hands. You bowed gratefully to the guard and headed over to the woman.

"I'm Kim Yoojin. Nice to meet you, it's an honour." She bowed, reaching out to shake your hand. You chuckled and bowed to her too as you shook her hand.

"This is Haneul." You introduced. Haneul shyly clung to your leg as Yoojin waved to her.

"Come, I'll take you to your studio." Yoojin waved for you to follow her. Haneul held your hand and walked alongside with you.

"We know you're still in the process of getting Haneul situated into a school here. But in the mean time, if you'd like, we do have a kids play area that is supervised for parents that bring their kids."

"That's good to know. Maybe I'll check it out later. Thanks." You nodded your head.

"Here we are. Producers are on the second highest floor, after our CEO's floor." She told you, holding the door open for you.

"We've set up the furnishings of the studio as per your request. The equipment you have sent over from Korea have not been touched, they're still in the packing boxes." She explained. You nodded, looking around the rest of the floor. There was a small coffee and snacks pantry bar right at the front.

"Here we are. Producer Indigo." She opened the door. The door had your name on it. The studio was big, a lot bigger than you had expected it to be.

"So the pantry out front is free for all. This floor is restricted access so you shouldn't have to worry about security." She assured.

"It's a lot bigger than I thought." You noted.

"Our branch in Korea told us to make sure to arrange a big studio space for you during your time here." She smiled. You couldn't help the small snort that escaped you.

"Should have known." You put your bag down. Before you and Yoojin spoke business, you sat Haneul down on the big chair for her to colour of read, she was fine and could entertain herself for a bit.

"Here is your company tag, it will be your access card to different areas around the building." She handed it to you.

"This was a map of the building and your company issued tablet." She laid the items out.

"And this is your company welcome bag, there's a hoodie, zip up jacket, shirts, shorts, all that." She chuckled as you looked through the bag. This was a lot of stuff but you guess it was all for the branding. Even Yoojin seemed a little embarrassed by it.

"If you want any more, just let me know and I'll procure them for you. I'll be your main point of contact since I handled relations between the American and Korean offices." She informed.

"Alright. Thanks, Yoojin." You nodded, putting everything aside for now. It was a lot to handle at one go.

"You've settled into your apartment, okay?" She asked.

"Yeah, it's fine. Thankfully, I've had the past week to settle in. The area is good, safe and there's an asian mart nearby so I don't have to go far to find what I need." You explained.

"That's good to hear. I know it's not easy uprooting and coming here with Haneul alone. But I hope your time here with us is productive and fruitful." She smiled softly, genuinely meaning that.

"I hope so too."

"I'll leave you to unpack and settle in. This is my card with my number. Let me know if you need anything, regarding business or not." She giggled. You knew what she meant, she wanted to be friends outside of work. Maybe you could but now, you were patching up the wall around your heart.

"Thanks for your help, Yoojin. I don't know how I would have managed all this on my own. And putting together the list of schools for Haneul." You bowed.

"Oh, no need to thanks." She blushed.

"Welcome to HYBE, Producer Indigo." She wished with a soft smile before leaving the studio.

In Korea before you left...

Ever since you got that message from Pdogg, asking you if you'd like to sign to Big Hit, you've been transparent and honest with Eden about it. Surprisingly, Eden was more encouraging about it.

"If you really want exposure and experience, Big Hit and HYBE is the right way to go. They're internationally known with great connections. It's a great opportunity, Indigo. I would say, don't be so quick to turn it down, consider it." He told you.

"A good thing about Big Hit is that their foundation is a little like our own. BTS started as they're self-producing idols, I'm sure you know that." He added.

"I know. 3 of their rappers do a lot of producing and lyric writing." You nodded your head.

"So I think it's good. You'll be working with the great producing team there AND the idols themselves, rather than working in a more... song-factory type environment." He chuckled.

"But-"

"You'll always be friends with Ateez and everyone in Edenary. They would want you to do this for yourself." He already knew what you were going to say.

"Thanks for the advice, Eden. I will think about it." You smiled. He nodded and patted your shoulder.

Eden's encouragement gave your courage to actually consider the offer. And after discussing it with Eden, you decided to tell CEO Kim. You didn't tell him because you wanted a raise or extra company benefits. But knowing that he did want you to stay, you wanted to let him know there were other offers.

"I won't break my contract, CEO Kim, I promise that. I'm not sure what my decision is yet but I know for sure I'll work until the end of my contract." You promised.

"That's a relief then, Indigo. Big Hit is a really good company to work in, especially for a budding producer like yourself. A lot of people would have ran to them immediately." He said.

"I wouldn't do that to you, Eden, the Edenary members and the Ateez boys." You shook your head.

"But I do appreciate you telling me." He added.

"Of course, sir. I felt that it was only right to be transparent and honest about it. But as I have told Eden when I first informed him of the offer, could you please keep this to yourself?" You requested.

"Not tell Ateez, you mean?" He chuckled. You nodded your head shyly.

"I just don't want to distract them or make them worry about it. They have a comeback and a lot of other things to think about. I wouldn't want to add to that with this." You explained yourself. CEO Kim nodded and shook hands with you.

"Alright. There's no rush. We'll see what your decision is at the end of the contract." He smiled.

So the two knew since the start about your offer. They never treated you any differently and you kind of pushed it to the back of your mind, especially after getting together with Mingi.

For a while, you did consider staying on, growing alongside Ateez. Not just because you were close friends but also you synergised well musically.

"Unnie?" Haneul stood in front of you, tilting her head in confusion when you saw you spaced out.

"Oh, sorry, baby. Did you need something?" You asked. She shook her head but came up to sit on the couch, her book in her lap.

"I'm going to start unpacking and setting up some stuff. Snacks and water are in your backpack so help yourself, alright?" You smiled softly and reached out to stroke her head. She nodded her head with an excited smile. Since she was distracted with her book, you got to unpacking your equipment.

"Unnie, can I help?" Haneul put her book to the side and got off the couch. She carefully made her way to you, avoiding the items on the floor. She peered at you curiously.

"Can you hand me the blue wire over there? Be careful." You cautioned. She nodded and went to pick up the loop of wires.

"This?" She held it up.

"Exactly. Thanks, baby." You connected your monitor to the rest of the system. With Haneul acting as your little assistant, you managed to set up everything.

"That's me!" Haneul exclaimed happily when she saw you take a photo of her out of the box and put it on the shelf.

"There's big princess." She took the photo out of you and Mingi that you used to have on your desk. When you didn't take the photo from her, Haneul 'helped' you by putting it on your desk since she couldn't reach the top shelf.

"Haneul..." You didn't know what to tell Haneul. No matter what happened, you wanted her to have a good impression of Mingi and still 'like' him.

"Do you not want big princess' photo?" She faltered a little, clutching onto the photo as if she was worried she had done something wrong.

"It's fine, baby. Thank you, you're a great helper." You smiled softly, reaching out to pat her head.

You had found a group photo at home, left on the counter. It was you and the boys at M Countdown, during your first win. You've never seen the photo before but found it when you were unpacking.

'I got the photo developed and printed for you to preserve the memory of your first M Countdown win! Congratulations, baby! To many more wins together!

9 makes 1 team

- Mings ♡'

Mingi's handwriting was on the back. Then it dawned on you that was how he found out. He probably went to your studio to find you and found it empty, which led him to your home, catching you in the midst of packing your home to leave. It was still a fresh, hurtful memory that made you choke when you thought about it.

Some of the boys were still trying to reach you through messaging apps. They stopped trying to call, probably knowing that you were overseas either from the dial tone or from Mingi.

The only one you've been in contact with was Jongho. And that's only because you didn't want to break his relationship with Haneul.

"Can I eat my snacks, unnie?" Haneul asked.

"Of course but not too much, we'll go get some lunch soon." You nodded, breaking out of your thoughts. You continued setting up your studio, arranging the smaller items like your notebooks.

"Also, if you feel tired, you can sleep." You told her, knowing she was still adjusting to the time difference.

"I'm not sleepy." She pouted.

"Alright." You chuckled. You knew very well that she would be tired later. Opening the small boxes of drinks that was ordered for you, you stocked the mini fridge. There was a small tray you put on top to put some of your favourite snacks too.

"This calls for a small break. Want to go explore the building, baby?" You asked her, going to get a wet tissue to wipe the snack crumbs from her hands. She beamed and nodded excitedly.

"Let's go wash our hands properly first. And pee." You ushered her to the bathroom. When you were done, you navigated to the cafeteria.

"Wow! There's so much food!" Haneul looked up at you.

"Yeah... So many options..." You scratched your head, feeling a little overwhelmed and unsure of where to start. Haneul wanted to see all the options before making a decision.

"If you want something, we'll stop and order that." You informed. Haneul peered over the counter at all the food.

"Cream pasta!" She pointed happily.

Since you had your mask on, you got all the food in to go boxes, intending to eat in your studio. Haneul didn't seem to mind, even offering to help you carry two of the food boxes. You couldn't really decide so you got a selection of a few items that you knew Haneul would be more than happy to try.

"Could you press the lift button for me, please?" You requested. Haneul balanced two boxes in one hand, helping you press the button for the producer floor.

"There we go." You laid out all the food on the coffee table, pulling your chair over so Haneul could take the couch.

"So, baby, we've been here for a little over a week. What do you think?" You asked.

"I like it! Even if the clocks here are backwards." She scratched her head as she took a mouthful of pasta. You laughed, she was referring to the time difference.

"Well, I'm glad you like it here. It'll take a while for us to get used to living together and being in a new home." You said.

"I like living you with you, unnie." She giggled.

This was what you've been working towards since Haneul came into your care as a baby. For the time where she would be able to live with you and you could support her. And now, you didn't have to fear the threats or look over your shoulder, worried about her safety.

"I like living with you too, Haneul. I'm glad we can finally live together like a family." You smiled softly, reaching out with a napkin to wipe the sauce off her cheek.

"But we're not a full family." She stated.

"What do you mean?" You blinked in confusion.

"Because the oppas aren't here. They're our family too but they're in Korea so we're not a full family." She shrugged, poking a chicken nuggest with her fork to eat. You froze at her statement.

"R-Right..." You stuttered and forced a smile. She didn't notice how you faltered, more interested in the food selection.

Despite setting up her calls with Jongho, you never spoke to him. It was best to keep it this way. If you spoke to him, you were afraid that you might be tempted to ask how the others were, to know how Mingi was holding up. But you knew you didn't have the right to ask since you were the reason he wasn't in a good condition.

So you "avoided" catching up with Jongho, only exchanging hi's and bye's before you handed the device to Haneul for her to speak to him.

You figured he didn't tell the others he was still in contact with Haneul. Maybe it was best to keep it that way.

Like you told Seonghwa, you would give it a while before contacting them to start up a conversation and let them know that you were okay. You needed to be away for a while.

"You know, baby, I saw some yoghurt outside at the snack bar. Shall we go get some as snacks later on?" You brought up.

"Yes! Yes!" She cheered.

"Joong oppa and I always share yoghurt. He should have a yoghurt fridge at work too so he can have all the yoghurt he wants." She thought out loud, ending with a happy giggle.

"Maybe..." You nodded slowly, picking at your food.

After the lunch food was finished, Haneul was a great helper with cleaning the table and bringing the empty food boxes out. She got some colouring out to do. While she was distracted with that, you sat down and began to do some work.

'How's America? - Eden'

'Eden! It's great to hearing from you. I've spent the last week or so unpacking and settling into the apartment. Today's my first day of work so it's also just been unpacking equipment. - Indigo'

'I'm glad you're settling in well. I met some of the Big Hit producers for dinner the other day and EL CAPITXN is excited to have song camp with you. - Eden'

'I'm really not that good... I'm gonna be a nervous wreck when it comes to my first song camp. - Indigo'

'We all know you'll do fine. - Eden'

'And now that you're in America, there is a whole different culture there with the way they work. It'll be a good chance for you to learn some things from them. - Eden'

'Agree. Thanks for keeping in touch, Eden. Even thought I told Seonghwa I wouldn't be contacting them for a while. - Indigo'

'That's understandable. You might drop everything and run back to Korea. - Eden'

'That's exactly what I told him. - Indigo'

You didn't chat with Eden for too long. You were both busy and you already had some work to do. The work you were given was from the Big Hit in Korea. You were just working and staying in America to learn from the producers here and gain some experience in working with as many people as possible.

"Hey, baby. Do you want some-" You stopped mid sentence when you turned around to see Haneul asleep. Her head bobbed as she slept, her colour pencils around her while the book stayed in her lap.

"Told you, you would be tired." You chuckled, standing up to go to where she was. You carefully cleared the pencils and colouring book.

Once you were able to lay her down, you put her rabbit and giraffe in her arms, grabbing the blanket to cover her.

"Sleep well, baby. I love you more than you know." You kissed her head, making sure she was tucked in properly. Before going back to work, you dimmed the lights.

"Okay, where were we?" You sighed and put your headphones over your ears.

~

Series Masterlist

[dreamwritesimagines]

Garden of Secrets - Extra Scene 2

“Are you insane?!”

Well.

That was a very valid question after tonight.

Benedict let out a breath and sat down on the sofa across from Anthony’s desk, grabbing a glass and pouring whiskey into it.

“Benedict,” Anthony said, his voice already on edge. “If this is a jest—”

“It’s not a jest,” he said before taking a huge sip of his drink. “It’s the truth.”

Anthony shook his head, pacing in the room.

“You were caught unchaperoned with her—doing what, exactly?”

Benedict pursed his lips, the faint taste of her still lingering there, her intoxicating scent tickling his nose. Even the flash of what happened just an hour ago was enough to make his head spin, and this adrenaline rush didn’t seem like it would go away anytime soon.

His silence served enough of an answer for Anthony because he gawked at him for a moment.

“…Outside?!”

“I didn’t plan this, as shocking as it may sound.”

“Did she?”

Benedict’s gaze sharpened. “Anthony.”

“It’s a rational question.”

“It’s an accusation,” he said tersely. “And I will not hear any of that.”

Anthony ran a hand over his face and leaned back to his desk.

“I accept that she’s very beautiful but what you’ve done was a huge mistake, Ben.”

Benedict frowned. “If you’re suggesting I should have left her to those vultures—”

“That’s not what I’m saying!” Anthony insisted. “Of course you have to be married now, you’re honor bound to her! You shouldn’t have been alone with her in the first place!”

No.

It wasn’t just his honor. He knew exactly what it was, and he had been aware of it for some time now, and this whole night—

Even in the aftermath, even in this situation that was going to change both their lives, he didn’t feel the slightest trace of regret or anything of the sort. His whole being was so consumed by his love for her that he didn’t think he could feel anything else even if he tried.

The circumstances hadn’t been ideal, he had to admit, and yet…

“She’s not a modiste, nor is she a habitue of those so-called art parties you like to attend.”

Benedict’s frown deepened. “How did you—?”

Anthony shot him a knowing look. “You’re hardly subtle about your past time activities, brother,” he said. “But she’s a member of the ton, a debutante with one of the richest men in the ton as her uncle, and you thought you could risk both your reputations for a tumble in the dark—”

“That’s not what that was about,” Benedict cut him off and shook his head. “I wouldn’t put her in danger like that, ever.”

A silence fell upon them and Anthony took a deep breath.

“Benedict I saw the painting.”

Benedict’s eyes shot to his as he swallowed thickly. “And you still question me about my motives?”

“You wouldn’t be the first artist who was drawn to his muse on a physical level.”

Benedict let out a chuckle. “It’s not just that.”

“Then?”

“I’m in love.”

Anthony rolled his eyes. “You’re in lust as usual, just another—”

“I’m in love,” Benedict repeated, his voice so decisive that Anthony turned to look at him better as if trying to see whether he was genuine but then pulled back slightly when a look of realization dawned on his face.

“…Fuck.”

Benedict raised his glass in a mock of toast. “It’s not lethal or contagious Anthony, you don’t have to look that terrified.”

“You’re in love.”

“Yes.”

“How do you know it’s love and not just desire?”

Benedict leaned back on the sofa, deep in thought.

“The very thought of her consumes my whole being, and no matter who I am with, no matter who I touch, no one can even come close to the euphoria of spending a couple of seconds in her presence,” he muttered. “She is in my dreams when I’m asleep and in my thoughts when I’m awake, and I feel like—her mere existence makes everything else wash away.”

“Yes Benedict, because that girl is a maelstrom.”

Benedict shook his head.

“She’s not,” he said. “She’s as annihilating as one when she wants to, but she’s not. She’s…the first ray of sunshine after the storm.”

Anthony frowned at him and Benedict smiled to himself.

“I didn’t even like painting flowers until I met her.”

“How is that relevant?” Anthony asked and Benedict took a deep breath, then shook his head again.

“Nothing.”

Anthony clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes. “And what about Charlotte?”

Benedict lifted his head. “Hm?”

“The amount of disrespect—what about Charlotte?”

“What about Charlie?”

“You threw away years of courtship with her for this muse of yours and you didn’t even think about Charlotte?”

Benedict scoffed. “I don’t know how many times Charlie or I have to say this, we weren’t courting.”

“Does she know that?”

“Of course she does! She’s my best friend Anthony, not my lover and just because all of you are hoping for us to be together does not mean we’d…” Benedict ran a hand over his eyes. “We’ve never seen each other that way. If anything, I’d say Charlie will be happy for me.”

Anthony pinched the bridge of his nose and Benedict downed his drink, then stood up.

“So?” he asked. “Do I have your approval?”

“Since when do you need it?” Anthony asked back and Benedict shrugged his shoulders.

“It’s serious this time.”

“At last we agree on something,” he muttered. “Make things right with Charlotte first.”

“Anthony...”

“I don’t care what you think you two were doing,” Anthony said. “Make things right with her before you go back to your ice queen— or your Venus Flytrap, whatever it is that they call her nowadays.”

Benedict heaved a sigh. “You do realize me and Charlie weren’t going to get married with or without her in the picture?”

“I realize that you think that,” Anthony said. “Charlotte on the other hand, I have no clue.”

Benedict shot him an exasperated glare and Anthony smiled slightly, giving him a chiding look.

“You’d better know what you’re doing you goddamn rogue.”

Benedict let out a laugh. “Oh that title means a lot, coming from you.”

“I’m not the one getting married.”

“Yet,” Benedict said. “Mark my words brother, love will hit you out of nowhere. Charlie agrees.”

Anthony’s head shot up. “What?”

“She’s convinced you will fall in love even if you claim otherwise,” Benedict pointed out. “And we will both enjoy it when it happens.”

“That will never happen.”

“Tell that to Charlie, not me!” Benedict called out as he walked out of the door, then made his way upstairs with a small smile on his face.

  @sarcasm-n-insomnia​    @spwinkles   @currentlyconfused16​    @junezoldyck      @tarathecogsci​     @nightmonkeyparker   @slowgabinaburninroom​   @booknerdlife @goatsmcgee​    @pastanoodles11   @jmj-key-lime-green​   @nervousnerdsweets       @outoftheregular​      @foxlover89​    @strawberymilktea​    @rexorangecouny​   @rosies-reign     @plutorice @unsureofthe-future  @mytearsriscochet​  @dudeidontcareaboutanything   @tired-of-this-shit @crowleysqueenofhell   @xoxabs88xox​    @noisyinfluencerstrawberry​  @desert-fern   @sun-fiower-seed @marauderskeeper    @wisteriandprose @the1999kid @pancakefancake        @angelgracesworldofchaos   @softcabur​ @omgkatherine01​ @mathle0matle​ @claire-loves-music

[idontknowreallywhy]

Resurface 19 - Reveal

What went before

Scott demonstrates why his imaginary counterpart is such a bad influence because of course he’s going somewhere he shouldn’t be.

But it does mean we (and Scott) finally get to see Virgil’s picture.

💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚

By the time he got down to the infirmary, Scott was hobbling slightly and this irritated him. It certainly wasn’t helping with his need to be stealthy. He paused for a moment in the corridor and wrapped his hands tightly around each foot in turn, as if pressing the dressings into place would speed up the healing and prevent the cuts from reopening. He didn’t have the time or energy for that right now. Again he wished he’d slowed down, just a little, and avoided creating an unnecessary distraction with a pointless injury.

But how could he slow down when a brother was in danger? When anyone was in danger? When the split second could make all the difference? Everyone told him he had to… Virgil, Kayo, John… even Gordon lost the plot and yelled at him on occasion but Scott just didn’t see how he was supposed to make that call. How did everyone else see that bright line demarking “this far but not that far”? He knew he had to find it, learn to see it… if only because, as Virgil kept pointing out, Alan was beginning to follow in his footsteps and he’d never forgive himself if the kid got hurt because of it.

He silently eased open the door and crept into the infirmary. As if conjured there by Scott’s musing, Alan stirred a little and he froze in the doorway but almost immediately his exhausted little brother’s breathing slowed again. In another example of littlest brother imitating the biggest, Scott realised with a jolt that Alan had precisely mirrored his own habitual bedside position. Perched on the edge of the chair, leaning forward and to the right, the weight of his upper body supported by his right upper arm which tucked in alongside the pillow, head propped up by the right fist and left hand gently holding that of the patient. The only difference was that Alan had clearly slumped in his sleep and so his face was buried in the edge of Virgil’s pillow while his right hand fell limp over his own shoulder. He was going to get cramp if he stayed like that for long…

The urge to interfere was strong - to scoop his baby brother up in his arms and tuck him into his own bed, away from sights and sounds that might distress him. But Scott resisted. Just. He sent Alan into space on a regular basis, the kid had earned the right to watch over a sick brother the same as any of them.

The shirt fairy had visited here too, it seemed, and had left their bounty of neatly folded clothing piles arranged around Virgil’s sleeping head like a halo in some bizarre classical artwork. Scott spotted Alan’s t-shirt, a violently patterned item of Gordon’s and an equally-painful-to-the-eye-for-different-reasons one of John’s. There was something of Kayo’s and Grandma’s there too. Virgil was surrounded, guarded in a way, by all of them. But… Scott felt a stab of hurt in his gut as he realised… not something of his? Was he to be written out of existence entirely? He was about to storm out and hide himself away somewhere they couldn’t find or be bothered by him when he realised that the cover tucked tightly up to his brother’s chin wasn’t a duvet or blanket or any other bedding found in the infirmary. Virgil was snuggled up in Scott’s own fluffy blue hooded bathrobe, clearly pilfered from the back of his bedroom door.

Oh.

Oh right.

The wave of rejection panic receded and he felt a little silly. The whole being excluded and replaced by a hallucination thing was clearly getting to him.

Virgil was sleeping soundly, and the sound of his sleep was as loud as it ever was. At least that hadn’t changed… Alan despite being at close range was oblivious and Scott allowed himself a smirk at how they were all so accustomed to that particularly niche white noise.

He crept a little closer and his toes nudged the discarded sketchbook. Overcome with curiosity he knelt down and lifted it so that the moonlight from the window fell upon the most recent addition.

Virgil had depicted a storm.

The clouds were heavy and dark. A lightning bolt tore the sky in two from the top right to the bottom left where a carefully drawn silhouette of a fighter jet dived towards the ground, smoke and fire billowing from its tail. Scott’s stomach clenched as he realised it wasn’t intended to be lightning at all, but a streak of burning fuel. The violence and despair radiated off the page at him.

Scott knew that during his… absence… some top secret photographs had been leaked to the press and splashed alongside that same formal photograph of himself that had caused all the recent trouble. It was too much to hope that the sensational front pages hadn’t been seen by his younger brothers. Later, Scott had been required to comment on the same images at the war crimes tribunal. The high res arial photographs of the blackened and twisted cockpit of his plane had been unpleasant viewing even to someone who knew the pilot had escaped. It wasn’t surprising that this was the image conjured by a grieving artistic imagination who’d believed he hadn’t.

His hands shook a little as he fought back the nausea. It wasn’t much of a leap to put himself in his brother’s shoes… he’d had enough nightmares in which Thunderbird Two or one of the others had been in a similar condition. But every time that happened, Scott had woken up to realise it wasn’t real.

Virgil had woken every day for months to find that it was.

Scott couldn’t imagine how his little brother had kept it together as long as he had. If the roles had been reversed… he shuddered.

He lifted his left hand to brush a prickling of cold sweat from his brow and noticed the patch of light in the very top left of the drawing previously covered by his thumb. The black clouds had been erased leaving a spot of clear sky, in the middle of which was a tiny silhouette of a person dangling from a parachute.

Scott swallowed as, for a moment, he hung again in mid-air and watched his only way out of hostile territory smash into the earth in a ball of fire. It was as if Virgil had known.

HAD Virgil known, then?

Had he known THEN? Scott could almost believe it… that his closest brother would somehow know, despite all the evidence to the contrary, that he wasn’t dead.

Or maybe it was just that now the facts from the present were seeping back into his understanding of the past. Which must be a good sign.

He hoped it was a good sign.

Unable to tear his eyes from the drawing, it felt a little like time itself had been put on hold all around Scott in the same way the sound had. He suddenly realised that this was odd - the quietness almost oppressive in its emptiness. Then he realised what was missing:

The snoring had stopped.

Scott looked up in alarm to find a pair of inscrutable brown eyes looking silently down at him. So familiar, so beloved yet somehow also unfamiliar, unnaturally dispassionate. Virgil had never looked at him that way and it stripped all the courage from Scott’s bones as he struggled to maintain eye contact with his best friend. He had absolutely no idea what to do. His whisper when it came was barely audible:

“Hi short stuff… I missed you.”

💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙

[yeoja-dream]

Intertwined

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Pairing: BTS OT7 X Reader 

Genre: Fantasy, Magic, Eventual Smut, Plot, slight slow burn

Characters: Vampire!BTS, Elf!Reader

Content Warning: none 

Word Count: 4.3k

You finally wake when the rays of the late morning sun warm your face and hurt your eyes. You sat up groggily, rubbing the sleep from them with balled fists. Unwillingly, the events of last night flood your barely continuous mind. The memories have you kicking at your sheets with frustration. 

“What was his issue anyway?” You complained out loud. Maybe you’d never get to know. At least I get to say I’ve both instructed and kissed a member of BTS, you attempted to reason. The thought brings you little comfort. 

While you set something fragrant to boil on the stove, you checked your phone, finally, scrolling through dozens of missed notifications due to your late slumber. Habitually, you checked for new work emails, the top of which gave you immediate pause. “SUBJECT: I’m sorry. SENDER: KIM SEOKJIN. You’ve got to be kidding me.” You laughed incredulously. 

Dear Y/N, 

Firstly, I would like to apologize for contacting you via your work email. In my rush to leave last night, I forgot to exchange more proper means of contact. I would also like to apologize for my behavior. I understand that it must have been, in a word, confusing. If you would be kind enough, I would greatly appreciate the chance to explain myself properly in person. The issue is more complicated than I have a great understanding of, so I would also like to bring Namjoon who has a better understanding of the circumstances. However, I wouldn’t want to impose or make you feel like you were being ganged up on. 

Please understand we will take no further action with you, and should to ignore this correspondence we will take it as your disinterest in the subject matter and we will leave you alone. 

Best, 

Kim Seokjin 

“Jeez, this guy is uptight.” You mumbled, reading the message in totality. You sighed, sitting back in your rickety kitchen chair. Confusing is an understatement. You thought to yourself. But you also couldn’t deny that curiosity clawed at your insides. You sipped your hot, spiced cider, the taste giving you comfort and confidence. Something is telling me to hear them out, Dad. You thought to yourself. I just hope the cinnamon is enough.

Dear Kim Seokjin,

Sending emails is cumbersome, so here is my cellphone number. Text me whenever you’d like. 

Thank you for apologizing. I will decide whether or not I accept it after our meeting. It may be sudden, but I took the day off of work today. If today does not work, you can make arrangements with me after the studio closes every day at 10 pm. 

Best, 

Y/N

You type the email and hit send before you can overthink it too much. What makes a man go from ready to take you on the floor to running out the door you couldn’t fathom, but you certainly looked forward to finding out. 

It was about 2 hours later your phone buzzed with a notification, a text this time. 

Hello, this is Jin. We all have schedules this morning, but Namjoon and I will be finished around 5 pm. Is it alright if I go ahead and make dinner reservations? Is there any place you like in particular?

Dinner reservations? You mused to yourself. That sounded formal, more formal than you were comfortable with. Dinner reservations were for dates, of which this meeting was certainly not. 

Dinner is fine, but there is no need for reservations. I’m in the mood for Mediterranean tonight, so you can meet me at Olive and Thyme at 7. You replied. 

Your phone buzzed again soon after sending. 

Olive and Thyme at 7. We will be there. Thank you. 

At that you tossed your phone to the other side of the couch, settling back into the cushions, zoning out to whatever insane dating reality TV show was on. Speculation is going to get me nowhere. You reminded yourself. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a while since you had a reason to get dressed up, you realized as you curled your freshly washed and dried hair. Except the concert you had attended just 2 days prior, you could list the occasions you had to dress up for in the last 20 years on one hand. The thought makes you sad. 

Your theme is cute but casual, you reminded yourself as you selected your pair of favorite high-waisted jeans, a plain crop top to match, and a light jacket to go over. There was also no need to go overboard with makeup, a little bit of skin tone-flattering eyeshadow, mascara, and a pink lipgloss would be plenty. 

Of course, you didn’t forget about your ears. You’d had the pointy pains in the ass your whole life, and as such, you had discovered dozens of ways to hide them away. Your hair was down today, so pinning them back with a dab of spirit gum on the back side of each was more than enough coverage. 

You stood back, admiring your handiwork in a standing mirror in your bedroom. Cute and casual, you decided. It was while looking at your reflection, that you also realized how remarkably well you had been taking things. Just two days ago, you were a faceless fan in a sea of other fans. You were meant to enjoy a fun performance and return to your daily life, and yet impossibly, not but 24 hours later, the oldest of BTS was running out of your dance studio after a steamy make-out session, and now supposedly wanted to meet up to discuss something cryptic. It was absurd, anyone would agree. Even in your most delusional of fantasies you couldn’t have dreamed up something more ridiculous. Maybe that was what was keeping you calm, sane. Maybe this was all just a crazy dream. 

The time to leave fast approached, and with those lingering questions you found yourself in the back of an Uber on your way to destiny. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The interior of the restaurant was dated in its decor and sparsely populated, even when it was time for the dinner rush. You were the first one there, the aromatic smell of spices and wine hit you like a wall causing your stomach to clench painfully in hunger. The hostess was a small, mousey woman, who upon your request, sat you in one of the booths on the far side corner of the restaurant, more privacy, you figured. 

Quickly the cool-headedness you were able to maintain from the safety of your home gives away to waves upon waves of anxiety. Bouncing your legs and chewing your nails was all you could do to relieve some of the pent-up nervousness as the seconds felt like hours. You cursed yourself silently for needing to arrive early. 

Your suffering is somewhat short-lived, however, and as the clock hit 7:00 on the dot, the bells on the entrance door chimed as two handsome, well-groomed men walked in. It was easy to identify the pair as your evening guests. 

They were nicely dressed in outfits not dissimilar to your own. They too spotted you easily, and with a swagger in their walks that made you need to look away, they both slid next to one another in the seats opposite to you. It was weird, though. Having both THE Kim Seokjin AND Kim Namjoon sitting across from you should make you feel 10x more anxious than you had before, and yet, slowly, you felt the tension in your shoulders come to dissipate, and when you really focused, the buzzy, electrical feeling from the previous night was becoming more and more prominent. 

“Thank you for meeting us,” Jin took the lead. “This is Namjoon.” 

You cracked a smile. “I know.” 

“Well, I didn’t want to presume…” Jin trailed off embarrassed. You didn’t think you had ever seen Jin get embarrassed before, it was cute. 

“Hi,” Namjoon said, offering his hand to you. You took it, and before you could greet him back, the very same warm, tingly sensation zipped up your hand and down your spine. Your smile quickly faded as you found yourself needing to grip the table to reorient yourself. 

“Woah…” you breathed, shaking your head to clear some of the building haze. 

The two boys looked at each other, then back to you. 

“We’re going to talk about that, actually,” Namjoon said. “But first let's put our orders in.” 

It was easy enough to flag down a waitress and place your orders. Small talk was easy to pass the time until your meals were served.

“So…” you began, picking at your salad. “Every time I touch you guys I get a weird feeling, whenever I am around you guys I get a different weird feeling, and at least Jin was acting weird around me.” 

The pair sat back in the booths and sighed, before looking to one another. 

“I’ll start,” Namjoon said. “What do you know about soulmates?” 

“Basically what everyone else knows.” You stated. “One true love and all that. Although…” you trailed off. You triggered a memory, distant at first but grows with clarity when you concentrate on it. 

“Daddy, what’s a soulmate?” You asked, book in hand, curled up in your reading nook in his laboratory. 

“Well I suppose that depends on who you ask,” He said, not pausing from his work. “If you ask most people, I think they would tell you that it was someone they love a lot, or maybe someone who they feel like they’ve known for longer than they’ve actually known them.” 

“Hmm.” You responded. “What if I don’t ask most people?” 

“Hm?” Your dad asked, confused. 

“Well, you said if I asked most people, that they would say all that. What if I don’t ask most people.” 

“Ah,” He said, holding up two liquids seemingly comparing them. “Well, some other people would tell you that soulmates are different than just people you love a lot. They would tell you that souls are real, and when a soul is created, it is created alongside another. Usually, they are created in pairs, but it's not unheard of for them to be created in groups larger than that. Each soul is placed in a different vessel, but it will always pine for the soul it was created with.” 

“Woah…” You respond in awe. “What happens when you meet your soulmate?” 

“They say when you meet your soulmate, you’ll just know.” He said, notating something down in his journal. “Your soul calls out to theirs, long lost lover and friends reuniting after millennia. You burn and ache for the other until your souls are finally tied in a tying ritual. The tying ritual gives you a bond that you can communicate simple ideas or feelings over.”  

“Wow! What kind of ritual do you have to do?” You asked, curiously. 

“Oh well,” he paused from his work, looking away. “It is a bit too complicated for you now, but when you get older I will explain.”

“Do I have a soulmate?” 

“Of course, you have a soul don’t you?” 

“Ew. I don’t want a soulmate, Daddy.” 

He laughed at you, walking over to you to pat your head. 

“I’m afraid there are just some things in life that we cannot control, Pumpkin. Besides, I’m not going to be around forever, and it makes me feel better that you’ll have someone to keep you company someday.”

“Nooo!” you whined. “Who else is going to make strawberry rhubarb pie with dinosaurs? You have to stay around forever, okay Daddy?” 

He laughed at you again, kissing the top of your forehead before returning to his work. “Sure thing, princess.” 

You shake your head bringing you back to the present as the memory flicked by. “Souls are created alongside other souls and put inside of people who then spend their whole lives looking for each other and once you find the person you just know and you can tie the souls together and they’ll be happily ever after.” You summarized from your memory. 

“Pretty much,” Namjoon said. “I was worried you were completely unaware. Have you ever met anyone you felt that way about?” 

“Like just knowing? Not really.” You admitted with a shrug. You had loved before, certainly, but you guessed that soul mates were something bigger, much more profound. Someone you loved and knew deeper than summer romances and puppy love. 

“We have,” Jin spoke up this time. 

“Oh,” You said, eyebrows coming together in confusion. 

“But I kissed you, you must be now wondering,” Jin said. You nodded slowly in response. 

“When you are near me, what sensations do you feel?” He asked. 

You took a moment to gather your thoughts. “I feel like there is a current running through me, and the more I spend time with you and the closer in proximity to you I get, the stronger the feeling gets. My brain gets dizzy and hazy like I’ve had a few glasses of wine, and yet my acuity is still razor sharp. And when I touch you, it feels… weird.” You confessed. When I touch you it feels really good and it makes me want to touch you endlessly you added in your mind. 

They shared a knowing glance before Namjoon spoke. “THAT is the feeling. THAT is knowing.” 

“Huh?” You asked, cocking an eyebrow. “I thought knowing was more of an abstract concept, like wow it feels like I have known this person my whole life, I think I want to marry them someday.” 

“In the movies, absolutely,” Namjoon agreed. “But those feelings are your soul, physically calling out to ours.” 

“You’re kidding.” You said, unbelieving. 

“Let me ask you this then,” Namjoon begins. “Yesterday when you were kissing Jin hyung, I bet it felt so, incredibly right, right?” 

You looked at Jin. If you could be honest with yourself, you wanted to climb over this table and kiss him again. Maybe then he’d bend you over the table and take you right here, Namjoon’s hands on you helping bring you to completion- you cut yourself off before the thought can continue further. 

Namjoon looked at you knowingly. 

“So if I am to believe that what you are saying is correct, I am the soul mate to both of you.” You asked, matter of fact. 

“We are suggesting that you are all of our soulmates,” Jin stated, looking at you seriously. 

“As in, all 7 of you.” You asked again matter-of-factly.

They nodded in response. 

You laughed, exasperated. “Bring out the cameras because this is un-fucking-believable. This has to be a joke.” 

The serious expression on both of the boys’ faces says otherwise.

“I know this must be a lot to take in,” Jin said honestly. “It was a lot for me as well. And the others.” 

“What?” You asked, confused again. 

They share a look and Namjoon nods encouragingly before Jin speaks again. 

“We are actually all mated to each other, all 7 of us.” 

“Wow,” you breathed. “You guys are as close as you portray online.” 

The pair chuckle at that. 

“Me and Yoongi found each other first and from there we found different members at different times. Every member struggled with it in different ways, so you probably aren’t alone in anything you’re feeling right now.” Namjoon said. 

“You said mated. What does it mean to be mated?” 

“Oh, it just means that we marked each other.” Namjoon rolled up his sleeves, showing off two gashes, dark in coloration one next to the other. “We all have one. You can either accept the pairing and become marked, or reject it and become a single soul.” 

“What is the marking process?” You ask.

“You don’t know?” Namjoon asks, before putting on a serious face. “In short it is a bonding ritual involving sex.” 

You flushed red at that notion. “So if I wanted to be marked by each of you I would have to…” You trailed off, imagery and fantasy flooding your brain causing you to snap your knees closed. Namjoon looked away, swallowing hard. 

“Yes,” Jin states plainly. “But there is a rejection process as well. None of us are familiar with it, but if that is the choice you’d want to make we’d happily assist you with that.” 

“We should be a little more clear with you as well,” Namjoon looks at you again. “You have full choice and freedom in this case, but ultimately, now that you have found your soulmates, the empty, hollow feeling you will have when we are apart, and the buzzy electric feeling when we are together will become more and more unbearable as time goes on and if you don’t make your choice at all, it will drive you mad.” 

“How long do I have to decide?” 

“A few days, a week at maximum.” He answered earnestly. 

“You are right this is a lot to take in.” You sighed heavily. “With all due respect, I know you based on some well-edited clips and your music. You are all attractive as hell don’t get me wrong, but I don’t know you, and intertwining your life with someone you have an entirely parasocial relationship with is, in a word, insane. And for you guys too, you don’t even know me. 

“That is true, but we didn’t know any of the members that well when we went through the mating ritual,” Namjoon said with a shrug. “Besides, did you really think the universe was so unkind as to leave you without a way to break the bond? People can change, become abusive and cruel, and with or without your partner's consent you can break the mating bond at any time.”

That brought you some comfort. At least there was an ejection seat if the shit hit the fan. 

“This is a lot to process,” you stated, rubbing your temples in frustration.

“I am the oldest, but I was the fourth to join,” Jin started. “When I found out I was pretty upset, I had a solid lifestyle going for me that I didn’t intend to give up.” 

“How did you overcome that?” You asked.

“It was Namjoon that convinced me,” he said, gesturing at the younger man. “He asked me to get to know them. That the divines or the universe or fate had good intentions and I would be sorry if I didn’t at least try.” 

“I was a bit heavy-handed and naive,” Namjoon cut in, embarrassed. 

“At any rate,” Jin continued, “I resolved to give it a month. I wanted to date them, get to know them, you know?” He laughed. “I think I barely made it a week. Something about the all-consuming pull of your soul is hard to resist.” 

“I bet…” was all you were able to mumble in response. “I feel bad,” You confessed. “About the whole getting-to-know-you thing.” 

“What do you mean?” Namjoon asked. 

“I think it’s fairly obvious that I am a fan,” you began, “and while I can’t claim to know you, I would certainly argue that I know each of you just a little more than you know me.” 

“We have forever to get to know you,” Jin said with a wink. Namjoon elbowed him in response. 

“For starters, I’m sure you understand that our public personas are different than our public ones,” Namjoon began “But put more politely, Jin is correct. In the way that some humans go through with arranged marriages that sometimes work out, sometimes something bigger than us calls us to make a leap of faith and trust that it works out.” 

“That sounds like we are putting pressure on the situation. I think I speak for both of us when I say we meant to simply arm you with the most amount of information we can provide. Besides, on the getting-to-know-you front, we know more than you might think,” Jin said.

“Do tell.” You stated, raising an eyebrow. “It appears you somehow found out who I was, and further that I was a dance teacher.”

“I know you’re hiding some cute ears under all that hair,” Jin said with a lilt. 

You instinctively reached up to make sure they were still in place. “How could you possibly…” you mumbled. 

“The truth is,” Namjoon started, lowering his voice. “We aren’t exactly human either, and our, shall we call it, conditions, allow us to sense the energy of different creatures.” 

“So you’ve known the whole time?” You asked, flabbergasted. 

“Pretty much,” Jin stated. 

“Sorry, that's just like, probably my biggest secret and it is just out there so I’m a little off-put. Not that it’s your fault just, in conjunction with everything…” You trailed off. 

“We thought it important that you also knew,” Namjoon said. “That we are vampires.” 

“Vampires?” You repeated. “All of you?” 

“Yes,” He replied. 

“No wonder you are all so unearthly attractive,” you mumbled under your breath. 

They both chuckle at that. 

“When we meet a soulmate, sometimes something darker, more carnal comes out. Vampires, once they are connected with their mates, can only feed off of them. All other blood becomes a virulent poison, so everything in a vampire’s body commands them to claim and mark their mate as soon as possible. Prevents their only food source from walking away.” Namjoon stated. 

“That’s why I kissed you suddenly in the studio,” Jin explained. “It’s not that I didn’t want to already, but I had resolved to not make any physical contact with you until all of this had been laid out, but the way you were looking up at me, the feeling of your hand on my body, your smell in that warm, closed room…” he trailed off before clearing this throat. “It was too much to bear. It brought out that dark side and well, you were there. I’m sorry for doing that without giving you the proper context.” 

“It’s fine,” You admitted. “Truthfully, I wanted you to kiss me, and I enjoyed it.” I wanted you to do more, you thought to yourself. “I was more hurt and confused when you, superhumanly I am now realizing, left with barely a word.” 

Jin’s expression was nothing if not apologetic. “I realize that must have been upsetting, and again I’m sorry for that too.” 

“But wait,” You began, tilting your head to the side. “If you are all vampires and are mated to each other, then do you drink each other’s blood? Do you even have blood in your body to drink? And if a vampire can only feed from their soulmate once they’re found, what happens if rejection occurs?” 

“Yes and no,” Jin said. “It is actually a myth that vampires don’t have blood. The vampire toxin mutates the blood of the person being turned and makes it so it's the only way for the new body to get energy. Problem is, vampiric blood isn’t very nutritious and it takes forever to regenerate by itself, so we have to supplement with animal blood usually. It's barely edible, and not that much more nutritious but it's better than being dead.” 

“Fascinating,” You said. “The universe really fucked you all over making you all mates and vampires then, huh.” 

“Tell me about it,” said Namjoon. 

“Well, what about my other question?” You asked. 

They exchanged uncomfortable looks. 

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Namjoon said gravely. 

“I thought we were being honest with each other?” You asked, feeling slightly frustrated. 

“We are, it’s just…” Namjoon sighed. “It would add stress to a stressful and confusing situation and I don’t want you to worry about it.” 

“Well, now I am worried!” You exclaimed. 

A few beats of silence passed between you all. 

“Just tell her, Joon,” Jin said. 

Namjoon sighed at that. “When a vampire is rejected, or when a vampire’s bond is severed, the vampire dies. Jin mentioned that we can subsist on animal blood for nutrition, but what he didn’t mention, is that the consumption of energy is also part of what vampires consume when they eat blood, and once you find your soulmate, it is only their energy you can subsist off of.” 

“So you’re saying…” You trail off, flabbergasted, before starting again. “You’re saying should I choose to reject you all, I am dooming you to starve to death and die.” 

“You understand why I was reluctant to tell you.” 

You put your head in your hands, head spinning with the information dump of the last hour. How could it be in just 48 hours you went from a passing fan to suddenly, apparently, being the deciding factor whether or not BTS dies? It was too much to handle, and with the added pressure, you felt like your head was going to explode. 

“I need time.” You managed to say. 

“Perfectly understandable,” The pair agreed. 

“I have to go, I think,” You said, starting to stand up. “It was lovely to meet you but being so close is messing with my mind a little.” 

“By all means,” Namjoon said. “Don’t worry about the check, it’s the least we can do.” 

“Okay, thank you.” You said, standing fully now. “You have my phone number, text me any time, I guess. Bye.” You began somewhat robotically walking away from the two men who had just turned your life upside down, out of the restaurant, and into the cool early night air. 

You walked for hours, the outside had always been a place of meditation and peace for you. Your mind swam, full of questions and concerns. On one side, your heart soared at the chance to be with BTS, by all appearances they were hot, funny, kind, and interesting people that just about anyone would sell their grandma to be with. On the other side, you worried. About how you didn’t really know them personally, how they didn’t know you, how stupid and impractical it was to make a life promise to someone you barely knew let alone 7 someones, and most importantly, it concerned you how loudly something deep within you called for you to accept them. Now, there was the added pressure of not killing them. If only you were here, you sighed inwardly. You’d tell me what I should do. 

Somehow, you found yourself full, your feet sore, and no closer to a conclusion. You collapsed on your bed, exhausted, sleep finding you and carrying you off as soon as your eyes closed.