hana hashimoto damon wu choi jong-ho kim daejung

as night falls, he enjoys sitting amidst his whiskered companions, feeling the gentle brush of fur against his fingertips and the soft vibrations of purring against his chest. in reality, he is simply a boy who sees the world through the language of meows, and has created a haven where the darkness is dispelled by the radiant presence of his feline family.

one   glance   of   his   nightmare   spheres   told   a   lifetime   of   struggle   that   had   never   been   put   into   words;   impassiveness,   however,   jazzing   upon   his   scarred   lineaments   veiled   the   fragility   of   his   soul.   ❝   i'm   not   here   to   please   you.   ❞   guttural   were   his   vocals,   strangled   and   hoarsened   by   addiction,   towery   structure   tensed   by   each   personal   affront   thrown   at   him,   stepping   menacingly   close,   fury   tingling   the   tips   of   his   calloused   digits.   caging   her   betwixt   his   colossal   frame   and   the   barrier   behind,   he   leaned   down,   daring   to   force   her   into   looking   at   him,   smelling   him,   hearing   him   and   nothing   else;   his   visage   a   rock-solid   frame   of   implacable   neutrality.   ❝   but   you're   here   to   follow   my   commands   so   shut   the   fuck   up.   i'm   repulsive?   deal   with   it.   you're   stuck   with   me.   ❞   there   was   fire   coming   from   the   coffin   of   his   throat,   a   promise   that   she   would   pay   for   the   chaos   she   caused.   fuck   her,   however.   fuck   her   and   her   ruthless   disdain:   so   coldly,   so   straightly.

HER   NONCHALANT   GAIT   WAS   AT   ODDS   WITH   THE   PRO   TEM    credentials   that   were   given   to   her   and   there   was   a   casualness   to   her   stance   that   wasn't   quite   right   in   the   cloth   so   crisp   of   her   battle   suit   ⸻   he   had   heard   she   was   once   a   member   of   shield,   battling   by   coulson's   side,   a   fearless   comrade   that   would   guard   him   during   the   hardest   times.   a   valuable   item   [   for   hydra,   a   weapon   ]   for   shield,   that   yet   was   lost   when   she   opted   to   disintegrate   into   thin   air.   how   had   they   been   so   lucky   to   track   her   again?   there   were   queries   that   not   even   grant   had   the   responses   to   provide,   but   he   dared   to   be   that   intrigued,   dared   to   delve   into   her   mind   and   find   out   what   reposed   behind   the   facade   she   carried.   ❝   exactly   what   you   don't   have.   ❞   shield   was   his   ephemeral   home,   an   inn   to   comprehend   the   network   within...   only   to   ultimately   become   a   battlefield.   ❝   i   thought   coulson   had   taught   you   well   the   art   of   mantaining   your   militant   posture.   guess   i   was   wrong...?   ❞

HE   ALWAYS   HAD   A   SOUL-SMIRKING,   BORN   FROM   the   passion   of   finding   an   exciting   new   pathway,   from   holding   hands   with   his   sense   of   mischief,   from   embracing   his   feral   and   primal   side.   so   upon   having   the   other   opening   the   gates   to   an   ephemeral   moment   of   diablerie,   a   smirk   blossomed,   coming   from   creative   thinking,   from   royal   standard   of   genius   ⸻   a   smirk   that   was   an   announcement   or   sorts,   a   release   of   his   own   goofiness.   ❝   oh,   do   you?   impressive!   ❞   a   hand   was   thus   rested   upon   his   chest,   a   dramatic   play   with   an   equally   dramatic   timbre.   ❝   should   i   consider   that   an   excuse   to   see   me?   ❞   cerulean   spheres   glowed   with   refreshing   delight,   nurturing   the   smirk   jazzing   upon   his   tiers.   ❝   no   need   to   have   excuses,   though...   you   know,   it's   completely   comprehensible.   even   i   would   love   to   see   myself   all   the   time.   ❞

SHE   FELL   SILENT   IN   REVERENCE   TO   THE   ENAMORED   WORDS   coating   saccharine   vocals,   thoughts   falling   into   silken   thread,   staring   into   the   hues   of   what   she   deemed   divine.   there   she   was,   the   woman   that   encompassed   her   soul   and   carried   her   heart,   observing   her   [   with   a      beam   that   could   shred   her   into   a   million   loving   pieces   ]   as   if   her   feat   was   nothing;   as   if   she   did   not   walk   a   thousand   miles   to   hold   hana's   hand,   just   in   case   she   needed   it.   how   dare   she?   how   dare   she   invaded   her   kingdom   and   conquered   every   single   corner   of   it   before   sitting   upon   the   throne   that   was   hana's   alone?   how   dare   she   took   her   last   breath   away,   the   last   heartbeat,   the   last   straw   of   her   energy   and   replace   them   all   with   an   all-consuming   desire   to   have   her   again?   at   a   loss   of   words,   she   was   processing   the   enormity   of   her   presence,   looking   riveted,   looking   rapt   and    spellbound.   ❝   you're   absolutely   mad.   ❞   mad   as   she   was,   mayhap   ⸻   for   she   was   unconditionally   infatuated   and   intoxicated,   a   shameless   captive   by   the   beams   of   her   whole.   ❝   ... and   i   love   that.   ❞