#and in the end they simply didn't end up being one and the other and now he only has these things that he can barely move

[bebethsas]

"our love is carved in blood and stone. It is messy, and sometimes harsh, and primal, and I wouldn't want it any other way. I love you.

They can end my life, burn my body, tear my soul into atomic pieces, and scatter my remains to the four corners of the earth, and they still will never be able to destroy my love for you. Nothing--not death, not betrayal, not warcrimes or an acquired god-complex, not embittered battles, nothing--could make me stop loving you.

You could try to crush me, and I would welcome it. Embrace me, and I will melt into you. You are written into the fabric of my being; if they were to cut me open, they would find strands of your dna inseparably intertwined with mine, in every cell, because we were always the same. You are not my other half of a whole; I am you and you are me and we were always the sole 2 pieces cut from the same cloth, meant to rejoin into something greater than ourselves. I love you.

When I say 'I love you' I mean it in every sense and meaning and tone of the word. If you bled, I would feel it. If you ever felt despair, I would suffer it. If you ever mourned I would carry that burden alongside you, simple as breathing. We were never lonely, we just sat too far apart to see each other. Fate or destiny or pre-determined outcomes...they don't matter. I will choose you whether it's fate or of my own free will, every time. I love you.

When we make love, the stars sing and my blood fizzles with that song, b/c it's the ancient song of the universe and everything within it that started eons ago and never stopped. Since we are all made of stardust, we are like two stars colliding. Making love with you isn't an urge, or a craving, it's a need--a deep, unending need to bend the laws of matter and be as close to you as possible. I need you--we can worry about human needs later, right now I want to completely merge with you until it's impossible to tell us apart. I will worship you with my body and my devotion until the end of time, because not even death and reincarnation could break my infinite continuous love for you.

I know you; I see you. I see into every dusty crevice and crack beyond your polished mask, and I love it. I love all of it. I love you. My love for you is literally too big for my body.

I will love you on days when you are cranky or short-tempered, I will love you when you are sick, I will love you when you are careless and foolish and act frustratingly stupid. On the days when you burn our toast. On the days when you slam a door in my face. On the days when one of us said something stupid or careless or hurtful, and we argued about it for *hours*, so now one of us is sleeping on the couch (even though it's bad for both of our backs), and both of us are lonely and sad and miss the other, but aren't quite ready to swallow our pride and apologize. On the days when you either accidentally or purposefully finished off my leftovers without asking (yes, I know it was you, who else would it have been, the cat?? The cat doesn't have thumbs, how could she have opened the refrigerator?! ...yes, obviously you owe me a replacement now. ...I will accept payment in the form of you cooking my favorite.) (also, on the days when you also steal my bagel for the umpteenth time. It's cute that you think that I don't hear you sneaking up on me, then giggling triumphantly when you sneak away, your heist successful, and prize gripped between your teeth.) On the days when you save 'the last bite' for me, because you know it's my favorite. On the days when life is simply Too Much and one of us (or even both of us) needs to cry, and you hold me or I hold you or we hold each other, and that is Enough. On the day(s) when you don't keep your eyes on the road and we nearly crash, and yes we don't and we didn't, this time, but every time you do that you're gambling on our safety, and it scares me to death (it scares me so much that I demand that you SAFELY pull over just so I can hold you so tightly that I can feel your heartbeat through our clothes.) On the days when you can't bear to leave your bed, because the world is too harsh and cruel and unyielding to your beautiful soul today, and you either need indulgent doting or support to get up. On the days when you are possessed with a new idea and you talk so fast that I can barely understand you, but I still try to keep up because this is important to you (and important to me too). On the days when we are unfair to each other. On the days when we most strongly feel our mutual affection towards one another. Because you are my soul. And how can I not love my soul? I love you."

--(I'm sorry, I think I was temporarily possessed by Jayce for a hot minute or ten.)

the heart shaped locket with a portrait of my nemesis inside stays ON during sex

[tokoyamisstuff]

Hwang In-ho x gn Circle Guard! Reader

Why did it take 6 months until the Frontman gave 222's baby to his brother?

just a quick drabble from the top of my head, idk it's 2am leave me alone

"Take off your mask."

A shaky breath escapes your lips while doing as you were told, sweat still dripping from your forehead from earier labour.

Now that the games have ended and the protocol for erasing all evidence has been completed, you assumed it was about time for the usual: One last, passionate moment spent together before you and your superior would part ways for yet another year.

Almost automatically, you fondle with the zipper of your suit, about to present yourself for him like so many times before.

"No" he stops you immediately, raising his hand in a rather appeasing than commanding manner. "Don't."

Before you could even react, the man turned around, fondling with a piece of furniture you didn't recognize despite being invited to his quarters on the regulary.

And then, out of the black box no one would assume was a bassinet, he took the last thing you'd expect to see ever again.

"Is that-"

"Yes, it is" he answers the obvious, beckoning you over while cradling the newborn in his arms with a tenderness you weren't aware he was capable of.

For a while the two of you would remain like this, standing besides each other as you undeservingly watched in awe of this peaceful innocence born in the midst of sin and despair.

In-ho observes intently how your eyes light up when the baby's little fingers wrap around yours, feeling the corners of his mouth etch into a smile he had long since forsaken.

Many questions were burning on your tongue, most of them concerning the child's future, but also about the Frontman himself that remained an enigma to you even after all those years. Because as intimate as your relationship was, it was also strictly physical, and in all other aspects he prefered to keep a 'professional' distance.

"Did you ever want to have children?"

You blink up at him like a deer in the headlights, unsure whether it was a trick question. After all, he was never interested in your thoughts, or feelings in particular.

"I heard you volunteered to feed her" he inquires further, gently wrapping a blanket around the baby after placing it back into the bed.

Sure, you weren't opposed to the idea itself, but with the circumstances your life had developed, you never truly allowed yourself to even consider it.

"I'm a murderer" you state matter-of-factly, facing downwards in a mixture of shame and bewilderment. "I shouldn't involve myself with anyone."

"Same goes for me" he retorts in his usual callous tone, standing so close that the back of your hand barely touches his. "But I was told to deal with the baby as I see fit."

"So...have you decided yet what to do with it?"

The Frontman's features always seemed as much of a mask as the angular black shapes of his attire, although right now a hint of melancholy slipped right through. "I...have someone in mind. But not yet, not while it's still so dependent."

Before you could even think of a possible answer to continue the conversation, you felt his fingers intertwine with yours, eyes still locked on the baby stirring contently in it's sleep.

"You still live alone, right?" You nod. It's not a question, it's a fact. He knows even the most trivial details about your life outside of this job, and unbeknownst to you he's way more involved than he should be.

In-ho remains silent, chooses not to reveal what's going on in the inside, about how the current games reopened old wounds and got him to question simply everything.

"Just a few months" he squeezes your hand ever so slightly, gaze darting between you and the newborn with a fondness that almost startled you. "I need to settle some other things, so...I could use some help caring for the child."

It sounds like he tries to convince only himself, for the power imbalance between you two made that proposition more order than offer anyways.

Still, here was method to his madness, well aware that you both would inevitably taint this symbol of hope shall you get too attached for too long.

In-ho leans to your height, planting a lingering hiss to your temple before resting his forehead against yours. You crack a meek smile, since this brief imitation of normalcry was the first thing worth looking forwards to in an eternity.

"Alright, then let's...try to enjoy this while it lasts."

[starktonyx]

Are we out of the woods yet?

Pairing: John Walker x reader. Word count: 6.2k

Description: John Walker and you are nothing more than two idiots who can’t stand each other. But when a mission goes wrong and you fall through cracking ice, he does everything in his power to keep you alive.

Warnings/Tags: Enemies to ‘you saved my life, what are we now?’, hurt/comfort, drowning in frigid water, CPR, body heat. You might fall in love with him. Thunderbolts make a cheeky appearance.

Notes: This was the most voted option for my next fic, it’s uh … it’s a bit long, yeah 🤭. Enjoy 🫶🏼

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You'd lost a stupid bet to Yelena, so stupid you couldn't even remember what it was, but you were currently living the consequences of it.

Which meant being paired on a mission with none other than John Walker.

Yes, the myth, the legend, the annoying, all star american asshole.

You'd managed to avoid being paired with him for a while. After all, the last few missions you were together had ended in setbacks, for the simple reason you two just couldn't get along. We're talking about a history of missed targets, blown covers, a few stray bullets aimed in each other's general direction, and maybe ... one crashed jet.

So Bucky and Yelena avoided it at all costs when planning for missions.

That was until now, all because Yelena had gotten bored. A lost bet landed you back on another jet with him of all people.

Mission site was in the middle of a frozen forest, where sunlight hadn't touched the snowy ground in years. Even inside the jet, you could feel the cold creeping through the metal walls as you got closer to the drop point.

You were sent to retrieve intel from a highly guarded facility that had made enemies with Valentina. Maybe eliminate a few targets if it came to that. Quite standard, even easy if you actually knew how to work together as a team.

The worst part? Their security perimeter stretched for miles. Which meant you had to go through a rough landing between the trees, far away from the base, and then hike through thick snow and unforgiving cold just to get in there.

Any enhanced teammate would've been better than you. Either Bucky or Alexei ... maybe they just didn't want to stroll around for miles with Walker either.

Couldn't blame them.

So Yelena, influenced by Bob surely, thought it would be funny to send you. Now that was the worst part, doing all of it with him.

You didn't even know what it was about Walker that riled you up so badly. Maybe it was his superiority complex. Maybe it was his agressiveness when he didn't like the way you planned things. Or how he never took the blame when things went sideways, even when he'd done something reckless too. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the way he looked a little too good when he was pissed at you, those veins in his neck, chest heaving, strands of sweaty hair sticking to his forehead—stop.

Let's go back to 'You simply don't get along'.

It was easier to hate him than to name ...whatever the hell this was.

"Can you stop doing that? I'm trying to land this thing, or are you looking to crash another plane?" Walker snapped from the pilot seat, not even turning to look at you.

You stopped for a second, realizing you'd started pacing in the back of the jet. It was the only thing keeping your body warm, and your mouth shut.

Until he had to open his.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is the super soldier getting distracted?" you said sarcastically. "Maybe if you actually paid attention to the plane this time, you won’t crash another one."

"We crashed because you couldn't sit still for five seconds … like right now."

"Wow, you're right. I brought it down with my bad attitude. My apologies, Cap."

You noticed the way his posture tensed on the seat, knuckles immediately flexing on the controls ... why was he so easy to rile up?

And why the hell was that kinda ... No. Stop it.

John didn't know what it was about you that riled him up so bad either. Maybe it was the constant defiance, that bratty attitude he just couldn't allow. Maybe it was how you never followed his orders, even when he was right. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the way you kept running your mouth and he could only think about his mouth on yours to shut you up—no.

He just hated you, that was it.

"Just sit your ass down and put on your belt. We're about to land," he muttered, trying not to sound like he wanted to throw you out mid flight. "I don't know how bad it's gonna be landing into the woods."

You figured it was better to comply, not for him, but because the mission hadn't even started yet and part of the bet with Yelena was to finish the mission successfully, without killing each other in the process.

A lost bet was a lost bet, after all.

You plopped down into the copilot seat beside him, letting your eyes roll as you buckled in. John just side eyed you.

"Good girl," he muttered under his breath, but loud enough for you to hear.

You went upright in your sit, looking at him with disbelief. "What the hell did you just call me?"

All you saw was a half smirk on his face, but before you could unbuckle and force him to say it again, the jet landed harshly into the snowy woods, trees scraping against the reinforced windshield as the aircraft rolled for some distance until it came to an abrupt halt.

You groaned when your head knocked hard against the leather copilot seat. From the corner of your eye, you saw his head snap toward you.

"You okay?" he asked, already unbuckling his belt.

If you really looked into it, it sounded a bit off from someone who had made very clear how much he didn't care about you. But apparently he seemed to have forgotten that for a moment, as he walked over and knelt in front of your seat, fingers working quickly to unbuckle you as he scanned your face for any signs of a concussion.

And for a moment you believed the hit gave you one, because there was no way in hell this was real.

John Walker...being nice to you? Caring?

You blinked a few times at the sight of him crouched at your feet, heart thumping so loud on your chest you were sure he could hear it. John's eyebrows furrowed to your lack of response.

You considered faking the concussion so you could blame your dazed state to that and not to the fact that his large hands rested on your knees like he wasn’t the last person who wanted to touch you.

"I'm good," you finally replied, barely audible, but enough for him to let out a breath he was holding.

Your eyes dropped to your lap, and he was suddenly aware of the placement of his hands. He quickly cleared his throat, standing up to somehow pretend to shrug it off. He grabbed his shield from the floor and tightened it up in his arm, maybe a little too hard so he could control his own heartbeat.

"Okay then … time to go to work."

You cleared your throat too, nodding and trying to ignore the heat that flushed across your cheeks.

Must've been the landing... yeah, just that.

——

The rough landing seemed to had messed with the jet's communication system, leaving you unable to notify anyone back at the watchtower that you'd made it safely.

You barely got two steps outside before regretting every decision that led you to this point. The stupid bet with Yelena. Stupid Bob.

Actually, scratch that ... Yelena was taking the yelling for the both of them.

Even layered head to toe with Valentina's high tech tactical suit, the cold crept in through every seam and zipper. The forest around you was quiet, and too white, just frost covered pines and the sound of boots crunching the snow below you.

And... him.

He walked ahead of you, carrying the map completely unfazed by the freezing air, head high and posture perfect, with that ridiculous bent shield attached to his arm.

"Walker, why do you get the map?" you asked, not even trying to hide your irritation.

"Because I actually know how to read it," he replied without looking back.

You rolled your eyes. Honestly, you didn't even want the map, your crossed arms were staying glued to your chest for warmth. Picking a fight with him was just the most entertaining way to stay conscious.

You walked in silence for about fifteen minutes before you started talking again, not because you had anything relevant to say, but because it kept your jaw moving.

"How much longer?" you asked, not intending it to come out as whiny as it did, but the cold sinking in your bones was making your brain foggy.

"Can't keep up, already?" he mocked. "Want me to take out the Sentry I keep in my pocket? Maybe he can fly us there."

You inhaled sharply, resisting the sudden urge to stab him. No one would know ... right? Mission incident. Just an incident.

You shook your head, you still needed him to get out of there. That didn't mean you couldn't mess with him a little longer.

So you sniffled.

"You're so mean, John," you mumbled, voice laced with fake hurt.

He stopped in his tracks, shocked about two things. First, did you just call him John? And second ... were you sobbing?

He immediately spun around to check, and Jesus, not a single tear. Just a goddamn grin spreading across your face.

His was jaw tight as he turned away, clearly realizing he'd been played.

"You're impossible," he muttered, shaking his head as he began walking again. You laughed.

"I'm actually cold ... not that you'd get it Walker, you're biologically incapable of suffering."

"Can you just be quiet for two seconds?" He groaned. "Maybe shutting up will help you preserve some energy."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you huffed, "Are we saving that energy for all the arguing we're gonna do later?" you were panting now, hating the way your breaths came shorter from the lack of oxygen.

He stopped again, turned just enough to glance at you over his shoulder.

"You good back there, or do I need to carry you?"

There was a part of it that sounded like he actually gave a fuck, but most of it was just him being sarcastic. Or at least that's what you told yourself.

"Oh, please," you scoffed, trudging past him in the snow. "I'd rather get naked here in the cold than be carried by you." He let out a short, dry laugh, and continued trailing behind you.

Yes, fighting with you was entertaining to him too.

The two of you went deeper into the snowy woods for a while, until the trail curved into a clearing. There, a wide, frozen lake stretched in front of you, splitting the path you were supposed to get across. It was lightly dusted in snow, surface thin enough to be a problem but not so fragile you couldn't maybe cross it if you were careful.

If you were careful.

Walker stepped in front of you, eyes scanning the amount of space the lake covered. He cursed under his breath, realizing going around was not an option if he wanted to get this mission done before the night fell and you froze to death.

"I don't like the look of this." He muttered, shaking his head.

It didn't take long for him to get into his I-was-a-soldier-once persona, running through scenarios in his head until he chose the one he seemed to be satisfied with.

Surprise, it was always the same one.

"Okay ... you're gonna have to stay right behind me. I'll check the ice as I go, you step where I step, got it?" He turned to you, lifting his eyebrows expecting an answer while you looked at him with an annoyed expression.

Yes, you knew it was the safest way to do it, he just didn't have to sound so condescending about it.

"Yes ... got it Walker, thank you," you rolled your eyes, eager for him to just go so you could get this over with.

He sighed, and turned his back to you. He adjusted his shield on his arm and stretched his neck from side to side. You snorted, why was he so dramatic all the time?

"Let's go," he muttered, before testing the first step by tapping into the ice with his boot.

You made your way like that, he gave cautious long steps, first putting part of his weight to test it, then all of it, before he could step forward with you behind him. You kept yourself close to him, as much as you told yourself you didn't enjoy it, the broadness of his back covered you from the chill air and his body was so warm you could feel it through his suit.

You didn't notice when he came to an abrupt halt, lifting his right arm up as a 'stop sign' a second too late, causing you to collide against his back.

"What the– ouch!" You cursed when you crashed into him. He didn't even budge from his spot, it was like hitting a wall. A six foot two brick wall. "Do you mind warning me before stopping like that? you are literally made of concrete," you complained, rubbing your forehead.

"I literally signed it when I stopped," he furrowed his brows, pointing the hand he kept in the air. 

"You are supposed to sign it before you stop, soldier boy. Or how about you just talk like a normal human being?"

"Listen, I think this is a thinner section, so we have to walk through slower, s l o w e r, is it clear enough for you now?" he said, spelling the world 'slower' as he made a walking motion with his fingers on the palm of his hand.

God, stabbing him never sounded like a better idea.

"Jesus Walker, do you even hear yourself when you talk? Just because you're leading doesn't mean you have to be a dick about it." You were almost yelling, completely fuming at this point.

"If you don't like the way I lead," he snapped, gesturing sharply in front of him, "then by all means, go ahead, take the lead. Break the ice if you want. I won't catch you if you drown."

You narrowed your eyes at him.

He didn't expect you to actually move.

But you did. Because you'd rather drown out of spite than let him think he had the final word. So you squared your shoulders and strode right past him without hesitation.

His hand shot out to grab your shoulder. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm taking the lead," you shrugged, and he looked at you in disbelief.

"Are you serious right now–"

You yanked your shoulder from his grasp before he could finish. "Dead serious."

You kept walking without testing your steps, John's eye twitched at the sound of your boots hitting the ice. At this point you had forgotten how cold you were, just from the anger at him alone.

"Oh great ... yeah, keep stomping like that. You want me to throw the shield too? Maybe help you break it faster?"

"No, Walker, I don't want your stupid taco shield. Besides, I'm lighter than you."

You kept your pace, ice creaking faintly beneath you, but you ignored it. You were almost halfway through. When his firm hand latched onto your forearm, rougher this time, stopping you in your tracks.

"Stop doing that!" he snapped, holding you firmer so you wouldn't let go. "You can't just walk off and–"

"God, stop stopping me!" you shouted back, twisting violently in his grip. "Let go of me, Walker!"

But this time, he wasn't gonna let you. You exhaled loudly, feeling helpless, so you stomped your foot on the thin ice. Great … you were letting John Walker make you throw a tantrum. He just got angrier at your reckless move.

"I gave you an order!" He finally snapped, making your eyes go wide in surprise to his audacity.

Where the hell does this man get off?

You just stood there in silence for a few seconds that felt like an eternity, his grip still firm on your forearm. Your brows furrowed, chest rising up and down from the confrontation. You swore your head was about to explode.

"You know what, Walker," you muttered, your voice was low because you felt that if you raised it any louder you were about to have a stroke. "Maybe if you used half of the brain inside your big stupid head you would realize you're not the boss of me."

He opened his mouth to talk, but nothing came out. His posture relaxed slightly, letting out a frustrated sigh.

"I'm just trying to keep you alive," he muttered, like he was trying to make you understand something he couldn't quite put into words.

You saw a flicker of something different in his eyes, making you lower your arm to stop resisting against his grip. You wanted to believe him, you really did. Flashes of the way he'd looked concerned about you back in the jet invaded your mind.

But no. You wouldn't give him the pleasure.

"I don't need you to do that," you whispered, and when you noticed a slight falter in his grip, you forcibly pulled yourself back.

The sound of cracking ice didn't even register to him until it was too late. You turned around to continue making your way, planning to ignore him the rest of the mission.

"Wait, stop—" he blurted out, reaching a hand to stop you, but you had already stepped forward.

The clear layer beneath your boots gave way in an instant.

Freezing water swallowed you whole as you lost sight on John, who stood on what was left of the ice on the surface.

It wasn't just cold, it was paralyzing.

Your breath got caught somewhere in your lungs, never making it out. You tried to swim up but everything was so heavy, your limbs, your thoughts ... the world. You could only watch as you were dragged from the light above.

This was it. Your last dumb mission, stuck with him of all people.

John's knees hit the ground hard, scrambling to the edge of the crack you'd fallen in, peering into the dark, freezing water. But he could see nothing.

"Shit—shit ... where are you?” he looked frantically, but there was no way he could get you out like that, the current had pulled you under.

He inmmediatly dropped the shield attached to his arm, the goddamn map, and didn't even think twice before diving in. The cold punched the air from his lungs, but he didn't care, he could take it. You couldn't.

His eyes went wide in the dark, searching through the blurry water for you. Minutes passed, but he refused to acknowledge how long it was taking him to find you, how his enhanced body was already pleading for oxygen.

But then, in the distance he saw something. A figure ... your body, sinking like it didn't belong to someone fighting for their life.

Maybe you weren't fighting anymore.

No. God please—no.

He got to you in three large strokes, grabbed you with one arm, and pushed up, only to be met with thick, unbroken ice above. He cursed, accidentally swallowing some water. He slammed his fist into it once, twice, he didn't know how many it took until it broke wide open, cracks stained with the blood of his hand.

It didn't matter, he would heal.

John bursted through the surface with you held tight to his chest, coughing, ignoring the cold sinking into his bones as he dragged you into a thicker part of the ice like his life depended on it.

Because it did. Because yours did. But you weren't breathing anymore.

"No no no ... hey, hey, come on–" he groaned, laying your head on his lap, gently tapping your cheek, but you didn’t open your eyes. "Fuck."

He cradled your head to place you flat on the ice, and kneeled beside you. You were still, too still, the image of your limp body broke something inside him he didn’t even know was there.

"Don't do this to me," he muttered, as he started CPR with just one blood stained hand so his strength wouldn't crack your ribs on top of everything else. "Come on. Come on, don't– not like this ... I didn't mean it dammit!"

He shook his head, wet hair splashing cold water everywhere, aggressively wiping his eyes with his free hand, before going down to blow oxygen into your mouth.

"Breathe .. please breathe. You're not–you're not allowed to go out like this, you hear me?"

He kept just kept going, didn't plan on giving up, not on you. Compress, oxygen. Compress, oxygen. Over and over.

Until you finally jerked under him.

Water burst from your mouth in a choking cough, body lurching forward, your hands reaching out to cling on something, anything.

John.

He exhaled like he hadn't since he saw you go under the water and immediately scooped you up against his chest, a large hand placed behind your head to steady you. You gasped as you shivered, and he just felt this excruciating pain in his chest.

"Okay ... okay. You're okay," he mumbled, more to himself than you. "You're going to be just fine."

He just stroked your hair, as he kept muttering 'you're okay' 'you're alive'. You coughed a few more times, clinging into the heat of his chest that escaped the wet fabric of his clothes. That's when you realized he was soaking and shaking too, he'd actually pulled you out.

"You ... you went after me," you blurted out.

John wanted to punch himself in that moment. Repeatedly. Why did he have to say all those things to you? He knew damn well he would go after you every time.

He held you tighter, and placed a kiss on your forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, voice cracking, something you never thought would hear from him, but man was he holding you like his life depended on it.

You wanted to say something else, but your teeth began chattering uncontrollably. You weakly pulled apart to look at him, maybe to let him know you felt your body giving out, maybe to look at him clearly one last time before your eyes began blurring more. And he saw it, he knew.

"No–no don't do that. Stay with me, alright? Listen to me! Just this once."

You're not the boss of me, Walker, you thought.

He finally stood up, pulling you up into his arms, one hand braced under your knees, the other across your back. "We're heading back to the jet. I need you to stay awake for me."

You just managed to nod, curling against his chest.

He left his shield behind, Val would get it back and if she didn't who cares. That wasn't important to him now, you were.

He miraculously managed to make it out the frozen lake without it breaking again, running right back into the forest path you'd already hiked through.

At this point, he didn't feel the cold anymore.

Didn't feel the bite of ice in his clothes, or the burning ache in his chest as he launched himself through the trees. You were trembling in his arms, he knew you were getting worse the longer he took to get you to shelter.

"Hey," John barked, louder than he meant to, like volume would anchor you to him. "C'mon. Say something, just keep talking."

You wanted to roll your eyes and laugh at him. He sounded way too desperate, for someone who couldnt stand you this morning. "You suck," you managed to blurt out, and you felt his laugh vibrate in his chest.

"Good girl," he replied, trying to get you mad at him like he'd done earlier in the jet, just so you talked to him.

Just so you stayed alive out of pure spite.

But you didn't fight him this time, you didn't want to anymore. He could boss you around all he wanted as long as you could feel the warmth of his body. As long as he kept running through the woods, holding you like you were the only thing that mattered to him.

"Eyes open. Stay with me." He groaned, when he didn't get the reaction he wanted. "Just a little longer, alright? Yell at me, go ahead, just keep saying shit. Insult my haircut. Tell me I ruined your day ... anything."

You made a noise, maybe a word, but it sounded wrong. Your head lolled against his shoulder and your lips were turning blue.

"Fuck," he hissed. "You're not dying on me."

The jet was on sight now, slightly buried in snow between the crashed pines. The second he reached the ramp, he stumbled up with you in his arms, kicking the door open. The inside was less cold than outside, but it was not enough.

He laid you gently on the copilot seat, and turned to the controls, desperately flipping switches to get the jet's heating system going, and fiddling with the comms settings to try to get to the team.

"Bucky? Yelena? Anybody, come in–" he barked, looking at you over his shoulder. "We need immediate extraction."

Nothing came back, the signal was still down.

"Goddammit." He slammed the control panel, a let out a string of curses under his breath.

He finally turned to your figure on the seat, and felt his whole chest cave in. You weren't moving anymore, just breathing shallow and slow. He could hear your heartbeat slowing down as you stared at him with half lidded eyes.

The jet had barely warmed up. It was like being inside a fucking freezer. There was no time, he knew what he needed to do.

"Fuck it."

He stripped off his gear quickly. The heat of his body had already dried off most of it. Still, he got rid of his tactical suit, gloves, the compression shirt he wore inside, until he was left in his underwear, body steaming against the crisp air.

He knelt by your chair, then hesitantly placed his hands on your soaked layers.

"Sorry ... I have to do this," he muttered, as his fingers found your suit's zipper. "I know you hate me. I know this is the last thing you want ... but I need you to live more than I need your permission right now."

His hands were careful. Gentle, even as they worked fast. He took off all layers, except for your underwear. His jaw clenched the whole time as he tried to keep his eyes from looking more than necessary.

He then lifted you off the seat so he could sit instead, placing you on his lap. He pulled you as close as he could, chest to chest, arms wrapped around your freezing body trying to trap as much heat as he could between you. He tilted your face gently, tucking it under his chin.

And God, he was warm.

By this point you had stopped shivering, but he knew it meant you were just at the worst stage of it. Your lips were blue, skin worryingly lifeless, and you couldn't quite figure out what was going on anymore.

"I got you," he whispered, kissing your head like he did when he got you out of the water. But that time you'd gotten back to him. Right now you were drifting away. "I've got you. You're gonna be okay."

"John?" His name came out unsure. Like you didn't remember he was even with you. Like you didn't remember you never called him John.

"Yeah it's me ... it's Walker. You hate my guts, remember? ... come on, stay with me," he held you tighter, wishing there was a way to give you all the serum going through his veins, even if it was him dying instead of you. "I didn't mean it. Any of it. You can punch me when you get better. I'll let you."

His hands tan through your back, your arms, rubbing warmth into your skin, trying to coax you back.

"I'll carry you through another mile of snow. I'll lose all the bets to Yelena if it means you get to yell at me one more time."

He didn't know what he was saying anymore. And it's not like you were hearing him anyways, time got strange after that.

You drifted in and out, sometimes aware of his arms around you, sometimes lost in the static of your own head. But slowly, like fog clearing, your mind began to catch up with your body. You felt heat all around you, like you were wrapped in something solid and safe.

And... bare.

Your cheek was pressed to bare skin.

John Walker's skin.

You blinked against the soft rise and fall of his chest, his heart thumping under your ear.

"...you're warm," you whispered, barely audible.

For a moment, he thought he’d imagined it. But you shifted in his grip enough to let him know that you were there, that you were real again.

Thanks to him.

"You're alive," he exhaled. His hand instinctively cupped the back of your head, fingers threading carefully through damp strands. "Jesus ... you're alive."

"You sound surprised," you rasped, lips ghosting a smirk.

"I watched you fall through the ice." His voice cracked on the word fall. "Yeah ... I'm fucking surprised."

"I can tell ... your heart is racing," you mumbled, voice coming out hoarse from your dry throat.

The adrenaline was still screaming through his bloodstream. He wanted to play it off, crack a joke, maybe roll his eyes and say yeah, thanks for ruining the mission, but none of that came out.

"Yeah ... well," he breathed out. "You scared the hell out of me."

There. He said it. Fuck it.

"I thought you hated me,"

"I tried to.. . God knows, you make it easy."

That made you huff a shaky laugh. He ignored the way his heart skipped to that. You were laughing again. Alive. In his arms.

"You're not exactly sunshine yourself, John."

John. His name sounded so pretty coming out your lips when you were not dying.

"I know."

That was probably the first conversation that didn't end with you wanting to punch him in the face. Something had shifted.

Maybe almost dying was all it took.

It was like the cold had finally frozen the part of your brain that hated John Walker. Or the heat of his body had melted the part of you that still tried to pretend you did.

You nestled your face closer to his neck, trying to soak in the impossible warmth of his skin. "I didn't mean it either ... you know. All the times I said you were insufferable."

He didn't say anything.

"I mean, you are ... but–" You exhaled. "I think I just didn't want to deal with whatever this was."

You felt his fingers twitch against your back, still careful, like you weren't almost naked in his arms.

"Yeah," he said. "Same."

John looked down at you, still cradled to him like glass. You were watching him now, really watching him, and not with the usual disgust behind your eyes. This time it was something... gentler.

And he was close. Too close. You could feel the heat of him everywhere, arms still locked around you like you belonged there. And his gaze had stopped hiding whatever had been buried under all those arguments and insults.

He tilted his head, eyes flickering down to your lips for a second too long. That's when something snapped inside you. You surged forward before your brain could catch up.

It wasn't cute, not at first. It was cold dry lips, desperate touches, and months of pent up tension crashing together. But then he softened, his hand cradled your face like you were something fragile, and yours clung to his neck like maybe if you held tighter, this wouldn't end.

But it did, because he pulled apart, like he was still holding himself back. He shook his head.

"I want you alive first ... fully conscious," he whispered against your lips. "Not ... not like this."

Of course he wasn't sure if this was real. If this was just some kind of 'thanks for saving me' type kiss. Like tomorrow you would wake up and remember you hated him, and he wasn't sure if he could take that.

You shook your head, you have never known what you wanted more than in this moment. Maybe it was the adrenaline wearing off. Maybe it was the brush with death.

"No," you shook your head. "Ive never felt more alive ... and I'm not wasting another second."

John opened his mouth to argue, but you kissed him before he could. You took all the strenght left in your body to kiss him deeper, until it was less about the anger, the insecurities, and more about everything else you hadn't said yet.

And you showed him, with your hands running through his hair, with your tongue playing with his, that this kiss wasn't a just a thank you, it was an apology ... a finally. Because you still didn’t know what the hell this was, but neither of you wanted to fight it anymore.

You pulled back breathless, but you were still so close that you could feel his chest rising and falling against yours. And then ... you both laughed.

Awkwardly. Like you didn’t know what to do with each other now.

"...What on earth was that?" you whispered, smiling through the adrenaline crash.

"I ...I don't know," he muttered, a little dazed.

You knew you should be panicking, overthinking. You should be denying everything that just happened. Yet still, you're both laughing again, naturally, like you didn't spend the last months wanting to stab each other.

Something loosened inside you, and you closed your eyes. His warmth, John was so damn cozy and soft ... almost unreasonably so.

Until he oppened his mouth again. Because he was still John Walker after all.

"So... what was that about you rather being naked around here than letting me carry you?" He allowed himself to tease you, because he could now.

Because everything you said in your stupid argument came true. You just didn't expect him to rub it in. You opened your mouth in surprise, hitting his chest, but this time it was playful.

"Haha, very funny. What was that about you not going after me if I drowned?" you snarked back.

He chuckled, and god ... it felt so easy now. He didn't have to say something mean back this time, too many months wasted on that.

So he just leaned in and crashed his lips against you.

Because you were cold. Because you were warm. Because your lips were right there and he just saved your life. And he was sick of pretending he hated the sound of your voice.

This time what interrupted your little make out you was the voice of someone else.

"... h-hello? ... guys come in. We got your message, Walker. Already on our way. Are you both okay?"

Yelena's voice coming out the jet’s comms made your tongues freeze mid kiss. You split apart like teenagers caught making out in a janitors closet.

You were suddenly aware of your very compromising position ... almost naked.

"Oh my god ... oh my god, John," you panicked, looking at the pile of wet clothes on the floor. "She's not even gonna let us explain it to her."

"Just ... don't answer yet," he hissed. "Give me a second to ... it's just my face, I can't—" He turned away from you.

"Are you blushing?" You chuckled through your panic.

"No ... It's the cold, shut up."

"Guys, do you copy? Hellooo ... this is Yelena … I swear to God if you two are dead, I'm going to be very upset."

You scrambled upright, before she thought about accessing the jets cameras or video calling, and tapped the console to talk to her.

"This is Walker and uh ... me," you said, voice slightly breathless. "We're alive, mission compromised. But we're... okay."

There was a pause, and you thought maybe you saved your asses.

"Why do you sound like you've been making out?"

You didn't answer inmediatly.

"Hold on ..." she hurried, and you panicked.

A white light flickered, signaling image was coming through. A fucking video call.

Before you could launch towards the control deck to cut the communication, a hollogram showed the inside of another jet, and Yelena's face. Or more accurately, Yelena's extremely judgmental face. Her eyes went wide, jaw almost falling to the floor.

"What the fuck are you guys doing?"

John cursed under his breath and reached blindly to get his tactical shirt, laying it over your shoulders to cover what was left of your dignity. Bob's voice came in behind her.

"Wait, wait ... move, lemme see—holy shit,” he covered his mouth with both hands, in half amusement, half disbelief.

Ava shoved herself into frame next, squinting. "Are you guys... naked?"

Bucky just peeked his head in, horrified. "They are."

You covered your face with both hands, muffling a mortified groan. John just tipped his head back and let out the most dramatic sigh of his life.

"I swear to god," he muttered. "We weren't ... we're not—it was hypothermia!"

"And your solution was...?" Yelena teased.

"Body heat, Belova," he snapped, rolling his eyes. "It's called first aid, look it up."

"Well ... clearly you got aided." Ava smirked at you.

Bob's voice chimed in again. "I bet that's not the only thing he—"

"BOB."

Yelena mouthed a sorry to the camera after shutting him up, and gently pushed him to the side. Ava disappeared next to them. Even off frame you could still hear their muffled laughs.

Bucky just scanned your face through the screen. "You okay?"

You nodded, because you were. You finally were. "He's really warm."

John cleared his throat.

"We need evac. She's stable now but still cold. Jet heating wasn't enough, I did the only thing I could."

"Copy that," Bucky nodded, biting his cheek to not say anything. "Reaching your coordinates, just please... put your shirts back on before we get there."

[deadwizardsoci]

i bet the "till was completely fine with everything ivan did and reciprocates his feelings fully, he was just surprised when he was kissed which is why he reacted the way he did" alnst fans clutched their pearls watching karma (if those fans have any media literacy like at all)

i absolutely love my miscommunication tropes. delicious.

i saw someone say that till started to love-admire mizi because they were friends and had a good bond together while, in contrast, his bond with ivan had always been somewhat of a rollercoaster, and i 100% agree with that. ivans inability of expressing his feelings in a healthy way and tills obvious rebellious nature aswell as impulsivity resulted in useless and meaningless fights. then, all of a sudden they were all buddy buddy and hanging out like friends do. it was all obviously incredibly confusing for till, seeing as he bases and diminishes his feelings on someone from what their general relationship looks like (like we see him doing with mizi). obviously, he wouldn't know how to classify his and ivans bond, because as i said some days there was affection, some days there wasnt. because of ivans lack of social awareness, there were some obviously uncomfortable elements in their time together aswell, even if they werent being hostile with one another at the given moment.

this in no way goes to say ivan is "the bad one". all of his issues, aswell as tills, result from a lack of understanding of basic human emotions and needs. having grown up as literal pets for a species that is nowhere close to relating to their issues (and even if they were, unwilling to get all touchy and vulnerable with them and solely treating them as nothing more than what they see them as— entertainment), they'd certainly have trouble dealing with it when their complex emotions inevitably surface. they live and grow with no validation of their feelings, no instructions, nothing, therefore, how could we blame either one for how their relationship turned out?

i personally think till did reciprocate ivans love, maybe even as fiercely as him, but while he tried showing it and, as seen in karma, quite literally pushed his love down till's throat, till decided to keep the distance because he couldn't understand it, didn't know how to deal with it. this of course also doesn't mean he was fine with being kissed. he still didnt know what his feelings for ivan looked like (he had no time to even process them as they'd been so complicated for so long, and he obviously avoids being vulnerable, even within himself), he was in an extremely sensitive place, grieving mizi and on top of it all was the natural panic and fret of his fight or flight to stay alive in such a situation, where death is looking you straight in the eye.

perhaps it was hard to realise seeing as the music and his lyrics kept going, but till's exhaustion (a natural grieving response) overcame him and he eventually gives up. he knows he could die. he knows he will die. but he is simply too exhausted to continue.

ivan notices, and goes over to him not because he sees an opportunity to get revenge, but to lower his own score so till can win either way. he sacrifices himself for his sake. he goes over and forcefully kisses him, even as till pulls away, he keeps going, making the audience think he wants to hurt him. he goes as far as putting his hands on his neck to give the impression he's being strangled aswell, and in the end, his sacrifice is worth. he's not doing it because he wants to, he's doing it so till can win because he loves him.

also would like to say, for the other side of the fandom thats like "ivan is a monster! he made till uncomfortable and wanted to hurt him because he was rejected!", NO BUDDY. ivan's hands are shaking as he goes on to grab him, he's even pressing on the sides of his neck, not forwardly blocking his airway, and even if you missed all of that, HE QUITE LITERALLY GOES ON TO STARE AT THE SCORE AS HE DOES IT. he braces himself to be shot and PULLS AWAY FROM THE KISS AS TO NOT HURT TILL ASWELL. he lets go the very moment blood spills from his mouth, at peace with the thought that till survives. and yeah, obviously till is grabbing at his own neck after 😭 while not fatal, the discomfort was still there, and mixed with the previous panic, it was much more intense.

then, gazing down at ivans body, he understands what his intention truly was.

in the next round, till avenges ivan by trying his best to beat luka. we can see this from his physical desperation, both in body language and expression

he is also on his mind CONSTANTLY. he is grieving a love he didn't even realise he had until it was too late. he quite literally hallucinates luka as ivan the whole time, finally understanding how he loved him.

wild that i have to make this post. its so clear. everything is SO clear. if you paid slightly more attention you could tell so too 😭😭😭

[the-actual-literal-worst]

Actually, the fun thing is that I can choose to never shut up, so here's some fun (read, actually horrible) things that happened in my old dance program (both the private studio, and in high school arts class). - Me and another trans dancer approached our choreographer with some costume issues and she jumped the gate with "they're unisex costumes, what's the problem?" and when we specified that wouldn't be able to bind underneath them (the straps would've shown), she unblinkingly said "Oh, just use ace bandages- they're strapless and nude!" ya know... the thing that literally every intro to binding safety guide tells you not to fucking do because of rib and tissue damage?...(this was also advice she had given to the girls who complained about not being comfortable not being able to wear a bra on stage) - We took a girl (no older than 10) into our studio after she was kicked out of a more classically focused one across town. Apparently, the other studio had refused to let her take their classes because she was "too fat to make a good dancer". That poor girl was CRUSHED and she and her mother were so hesitant reaching out to us because the chance we would be just as cruel (the one thing we really had going as a studio was that we didn't tolerate body shaming). - A friend of mine, who worked part time teaching at our studio, got caught vaping AT SCHOOL (a separate entity entirely), and LOST HIS JOB because "the kids he taught were getting old enough to be in school with him, and he proved he couldn't be a good role model for them." There wasn't a criminal charge, he simply got suspended and couldn't make it to class, so our choreographer found out- and he lost his job over his "delinquent lifestyle". - Another one of the student teachers (who was 13 at the time), was teaching the younger classes (3-7 year olds) UNSUPERVISED when she broke BOTH her feet at the same time in a botched leap during class. She was screaming and crying in pain, the kids were screaming and crying in fear, and the closest teacher was supposed to be half a mile down the road in a DIFFERENT building. They got very lucky that one of the adult teachers was at the main studio in between classes, or else the only option would've been for unaccompanied primary schoolers to run through town and get help from someone who knew what to do. This was a "quirky" story we all told/got told. Something we laughed at, and used to scare kids into learning the proper way to land their leaps. They even kept her recital picture from that year on the wall- of her posing in her wheelchair, smiling like nothing was wrong. And this was just the dance program. We had a joint musical theatre class that features highlights such as: - One of our directors telling me that if I didn't put effort into creating an accent that was less "regional" that I'd never find work (absolutely crazy thing to say to a high schooler taking an elective course.) - That same director, upon seeing one girls self harm scars, simply commenting "you better have that covered before the show". - Sexual harassment that ended in MULTIPLE long term teachers being fired And this is frankly the tip of the iceberg. This is just some of the stuff about TEACHERS, I've got a million more stories about students- and I promise: anyone else in a performing arts program could meet or beat these in a heartbeat. And I cannot stress enough how much you just think it's all normal while it's happening. Now that I'm out the other side I can look at it all and go... hmm... maybe this wasn't the nurturing environment we thought it was...

the ballerina to tradwife pipeline must be studied

[gav-san]

Cook Wanted, Crisis Found: 1/2

Main Masterlist Here

One Piece Masterlist

Two-shot: Prime!Silvers Rayleigh x reader Length: 7 K+ Rating: 16+ (Language & Slight sexual content)

All Gol D. Roger wanted was a decent cook. Unfortunately, you fed them once. Now you’re emotionally held hostage by the most chaotic crew on the sea, being aggressively courted by a half-shirted war criminal with excellent manners and terrible timing. Rayleigh doesn’t just flirt. He haunts your kitchen like a respectful poltergeist, makes eye contact like it’s foreplay, and threatens anyone who compliments your hands.

You guys see in the latest OP SBS that Rogder didn't have a cook? Congrats, you are now the cook.

@thatanonymouschocolate

“I Asked for a Cook, Not a Crisis” —as told by the Pirate King, who is clearly not in control anymore

The first time you met them, you thought they were a plague.

Not metaphorically. Not dramatically. A genuine, loud-mouthed, sunburnt infestation with too much gold and zero sense of portion control. The kind of pirates who walked like the world was theirs by default, and anyone not handing them a drink was an obstacle.

They arrived in the middle of the lunch rush, clattering down the dock like the worst kind of omen. You caught the sound of them first: boots on splintered wood, laughter far too confident for a group that had evidently just rolled off a ship. They smelled like the sea, sweat, smoke, and freshly acquired trouble.

Your stall wasn’t much. No sign. No clever name painted on driftwood. No chalkboard menu with quaint little sketches. Just a rusted stove, a chipped wok, and your cutting glare, which you used as both weapon and deterrent. You weren’t running a restaurant so much as defending a sacred outpost of sanity. And then they showed up.

The one in the straw hat—Roger, though you didn’t know it yet—flashed a grin like a man who thought charm could substitute for manners. He leaned across the counter and tried to flirt, completely undeterred by your dead-eyed stare.

Scopper Gaban followed suit, slinging his arms onto the counter and asking, with all the self-satisfaction of a man who’d never been hit with a ladle, whether you were on the menu.

A red-haired child knocked over an entire pot of soup in his enthusiasm, scrambling to apologize while slipping on spilled broth and yelling about how it wasn’t his fault.

The blue-haired one took a single bite, declared the seasoning overrated, then immediately choked on a rogue pepper flake and turned an impressive shade of crimson. You stood there, arms crossed, watching him wheeze with complete disinterest.

You didn’t say a word. Just kept stirring, your ladle scraping the bottom of the wok in slow, steady circles, like a countdown to something unfortunate.

And while the others filled the space with noise and ego, one man said nothing at all.

He sat at the far end of your stall, elbows resting on the counter, and ate like he had been starving for something specific and had finally found it. No commentary. No swagger. No smug remark.

Just silence, and eyes that didn’t leave you once.

He didn’t smile. He didn’t flirt. He didn’t ask for anything.

He simply ate, slow and careful, like the food you’d made deserved reverence. Like you did.

And when he looked up, it wasn’t with surprise or delight. It was with something heavier, like recognition. Like he was seeing something he hadn’t realized he’d been missing.

You should have kicked them all out. Should have dumped the pot, closed up early, and let them find someone else to bother.

Instead, you slid another bowl toward the quiet one.

He called himself Rayleigh.

You should have known better than to appreciate a pirate. But gods, you looked.

Tall and broad, weathered skin weathered by sun and salt, golden hair falling over sharp eyes like something out of a myth. He wore his confidence like it had been custom-stitched to his bones, every movement unhurried, every breath measured. Swagger poured into sinew and sin.

His voice hadn’t even touched your ears yet, and already your knees were whispering mutiny.

He leaned close once, reaching for a spice jar above your head. His arm brushed your back in passing. The contact was brief, almost careless, but your soul immediately exited your body and filed for early retirement. You didn’t even pretend to be composed. Just stood there, blinked once, and tried to remember what your own name was.

Then he called you “sweetheart.”

You nearly dropped the cleaver.

Your brain hiccupped so hard it forgot how to form opinions. It was less a reaction and more a full-body short circuit, the kind of internal meltdown that made you question if years of self-discipline could be unraveled by one word in that tone from that man.

And the worst part?

He didn’t even seem to be trying.

Rayleigh just ate. Quietly. Slowly. Every bite unhurried. Like the food in front of him was sacred. Like he wasn’t just refueling after a fight or soaking up rum with starch, but discovering something rare. Something real.

He didn’t say thank you. Didn’t praise the flavor. Didn’t lick his lips and wink like the others.

He just looked up when he was finished, eyes lingering on you, and in that moment, the world seemed to tilt slightly off its axis.

He stared like a man might look at a storm rolling in over open sea. A storm he’d already decided to walk into. Calm. Certain. Almost grateful. As if he knew exactly what it would cost him and had made peace with it.

You told yourself you weren’t flustered, and that your hands that didn’t tremble a little when you turned back to the stove. That you weren’t tracking the sound of his breath behind you with every move you made.

You should have known then. Should have locked the spice cabinet, packed up your knives, and vanished before anything could slip beneath your skin.

But instead?

You fed them.

And that was the first mistake.

The next time they showed up, they were half-dead.

They staggered in just after dusk, trailing blood and seawater, limping like they had fought the ocean and lost. Clothing torn, weapons missing, one of them missing a boot. They smelled like smoke and brine and something far too close to cannon powder. You weren’t sure who was supporting who, or if they were all just leaning on each other out of stubborn pride.

Roger was shouting something incoherent about Marines, sea kings, and a completely unnecessary bet involving dynamite and a pack of wild dogs. Buggy was pale and wheezing, clutching his side like he was holding in his own liver. Shanks looked like he’d fallen off a cliff. Twice.

You didn’t ask.

You just sighed, kicked open the door to the back of your stall, and started dragging them in by the collar one at a time. You swore the entire time. Loudly. Fluently. With real creativity. Muttered something about pirates being the worst kind of customer and demanded to know if anyone had filed a damn insurance policy. No one answered.

You threw them onto spare cushions, slapped bandages over whatever was bleeding the worst, and brewed a broth so potent it might have been considered medicinal in certain parts of the world and outright illegal in others. You shoved ladles of it between cracked lips and threatened to strangle anyone who complained about the salt.

Rayleigh was the last one through the door.

He leaned against the frame like he wasn’t entirely sure it was real. His shirt was soaked through with blood, half of it his, the rest probably someone else’s. He had a deep cut along his ribs, a fading bruise across his jaw, and the same calm expression he always wore. Like none of this was urgent, like pain had agreed to wait until he was done with whatever he had to finish.

You cursed under your breath and caught him just before he slumped to the floor.

It took effort to drag him across the threshold. He didn’t resist, only blinked at you through the haze, unfocused and slow. You dropped him onto a pile of laundry that hadn’t made it to the basin yet and crouched beside him, already reaching for clean bandages and your strongest antiseptic.

The steam from the broth curled in the air between you. Rayleigh turned his head slightly, eyes half-lidded, and looked at you like he couldn’t quite believe you were real.

“My sea-blessed angel,” he whispered, voice warm and wrecked. Then his eyes rolled back, and he passed out in your laundry like he had just found heaven.

You sat back on your heels and stared at him.

And then, instead of shoving him outside or pouring cold water over his head, you exhaled slowly, pressed a hand to your temple, and muttered a curse you hadn’t used in years.

You didn’t kick him out. You didn’t even try.

That, as you would later learn, was your second mistake.

He woke the next morning to the scent of citrus soap and the low clatter of pans from the front of the stall. The light filtering through the warped wooden slats was soft and golden, catching on the fresh bandage wrapped snug across his shoulder.

Then your foot nudged his ribs.

He blinked up at you, still groggy with sleep and blood loss, and watched as you dropped a hunk of bread into his hands without ceremony.

“Eat,” you said, voice flat. You looked like you hadn’t slept, hair tied up, sleeves rolled, apron already stained from a morning’s worth of effort. You didn’t wait for a response, just turned and walked away.

Took his time, too, like the food owed him something personal.

Then he wiped his mouth, looked up at you with that smug, sea-worn grin, and said:

“So, you spoken for or did I show up right on schedule?”

That smile did something awful to your spine. You felt it crack straight through your resolve like pressure on thin ice. You cursed yourself, turned away, and made the mistake of speaking.

“I’m not interested in pirates.”

Rayleigh didn’t miss a beat. “Liar.”

You scowled. “I like smart men.”

He took another bite and shrugged lazily. “Darling, I’m the reason maps have warnings.”

You hated how that made you pause. Hated that your heart skipped, just once. He wasn’t even trying, and he still knocked the wind out of you with a single sentence and that half-lidded grin.

He was the worst kind of man: sun-gold and storm-silver, sharp-eyed and slow-moving, like the floorboards were lucky to have him. He didn’t walk so much as saunter. Leaned on doorframes like they owed him rent. Stared at you like he was letting you in on a secret just by breathing in your direction.

He didn’t talk often, but when he did, it was in that velvet-wrapped drawl, the kind of voice that made you want to spill a drink just to shut it up. Or maybe to hear more.

Once, he passed behind you to reach for the spice rack. Didn’t say a word. Didn’t touch you.

But you felt him.

The shift of air. The warmth of his arm just behind yours. The slow certainty of someone who knew exactly how close he could get without crossing a line. You burned the rice, and then glared at the scorched bottom of the pan like it had personally betrayed you.

Later, he called you “sweetheart” in passing, his voice soft and wicked, as if he were whispering something.

Your knees betrayed you. They actually did the thing.

You told yourself it was just the voice. Just the swagger. Just the smell of rum and sea wind and the kind of bad decisions that involved midnight walks, stolen kisses, and regrettable mornings.

You weren’t going to fall for him.

You weren’t.

You may have admitted, once, very privately, that you might sit on his lap. Hypothetically. For scientific reasons. But only with limits.

And then, that afternoon, he walked by shirtless again.

You dropped your knife, cursed under your breath, and seriously considered throwing the entire stove into the harbor.

He glanced over his shoulder and smiled.

Of course he did.

Roger just wanted to eat.

That was it. That was the whole goal.

A good, solid cook. Someone who wouldn’t poison the crew. At least not on purpose. Someone who understood the difference between salt and sugar, unlike Buggy, whose last attempt at stew had turned into a war crime in liquid form. Someone who wouldn’t serve the same bizarre, spotted fish four days in a row and claim it was gourmet just because it “tasted fine grilled,” as Shanks so valiantly insisted.

Someone like you.

He showed up one morning grinning like the sun was in on his joke, boots loud on the planks, hands on his hips in that ridiculous Captain Pose you’d come to associate with either disaster or persuasion. Or both.

“Join the crew,” he said, beaming. “We’ll give you treasure. Fame. A room with a locking door so men stop trying to sneak into your hammock.”

Rayleigh, standing just behind him, immediately turned away and pretended to be highly interested in a barrel. He wasn’t subtle about it. In fact, he somehow managed to radiate guilt without changing expression, posture, or tone.

You looked between the two of them.

Then narrowed your eyes.

“I already told you,” you said, wiping your hands on a dishcloth and leveling a flat look at Roger. “I’m not a pirate.”

Roger opened his mouth.

You cut him off with a raised finger. “And before you say whatever reckless, golden-hearted nonsense you’ve got chambered in there, let me clarify. I cook. I keep my head down. I like quiet. And I don’t want to be kidnapped by lunatics who chase sea kings for fun, and apparently, how to bandage a wound without using someone’s shirt.”

“That was one time,” Shanks mumbled behind him.

“Twice,” you corrected without looking. “You used Buggy’s cape the second time.”

Buggy’s voice shrieked from offscreen. “You said you liked that cape!”

“I lied.”

Roger laughed as if it were the best day of his life. “You’d fit right in!”

You stared at Roger for a long, unimpressed moment. He didn’t flinch. Just kept smiling like the sheer force of his enthusiasm might eventually wear you down.

It wouldn’t.

Probably.

And yet, somewhere in the quieter part of your brain, your eyes had already flicked toward the spice rack. Just once. Just long enough to wonder if it would travel well. Most of the jars were sealed tightly, but the cinnamon always leaked. You could fix that. Maybe.

“You’re worse than a pirate,” Scopper muttered around a mouthful, clutching one of your fried rice balls with both hands like it was sacred. “You made food taste like feelings. I cried twice.”

“That sounds like a personal problem,” you replied, folding your arms.

Scopper took another bite and muttered something reverent under his breath.

From the corner of the stall, Shanks chimed in through a mouthful of dumplings. “But what if we make it your problem? Like, permanently?”

You turned your glare on him, slow and deliberate.

He blinked, swallowed, and offered a grin so wide it was nearly apologetic. Nearly.

You didn’t answer right away. Just wiped your hands on your apron and looked at the half-devoured chaos of your lunch service, the ridiculous crew sitting elbow-to-elbow at your counter like they’d always belonged there.

You should have said no again.

Should have kicked them all out and barred the door.

Instead, you reached behind you and adjusted the spice rack. Just a little. Just in case.

After that, the crew continued to come back. Not every day. Not with announcements or fanfare. Just every so often, like a tide returning in its own time. Sometimes it was Roger, booming with laughter and trying to barter sea stories for seconds. Sometimes it was Shanks and Buggy, bickering their way through your lunch line. Sometimes it was Scopper, grumbling about something you had no context for while devouring half your stock.

But more often than not, it was Rayleigh.

He never said much. Just showed up near closing, pulled up a stool at the far edge of your stall, and sat there. Quiet as sea mist. He’d watch the wind for a while, gaze trailing out over the harbor like he was tracking something far beyond it. Then, eventually, his eyes would drift back to you.

He never asked for anything.

Sometimes he cleaned. Silently wiped down tables, stacked bowls, and swept where you couldn’t reach. Once, when your hands were trembling from exhaustion, he took the knife from you with a touch so light it didn’t feel real, and chopped the vegetables without a word.

He even took over the stove once, when you were too tired to argue. He’d watched you enough times to know the basics. Or so you thought.

He burned a rice ball so thoroughly that it resembled a fossil.

You raised an eyebrow. He stared at the blackened husk in his hand for a long moment, then turned and bowed his head in shame like he had dishonored the gods themselves.

The laugh that escaped you was loud, sharp, and completely unguarded.

It startled even you.

Rayleigh looked up as if that sound had broken something open inside him. He didn’t smile, not quite, but there was a shift. A softening in the lines around his eyes, a flicker of something quieter than joy but deeper than amusement.

From that day forward, he never tried to cook again. But he stayed longer.

That was how it was with Rayleigh. No declarations. No promises. Just presence.

And maybe a little jealousy.

It wasn’t intentional. You hadn’t flirted. The merchant had only winked. Just a passing compliment about your hands while paying for lunch, something about how they looked too soft for kitchen work.

Rayleigh hadn’t spoken. Hadn’t interrupted.

He had simply appeared behind the man. Silent. Solid. Eyes unreadable.

The merchant took one look at him, went pale, stuttered something incoherent, and practically sprinted down the dock like he’d seen a ghost in broad daylight.

You turned, arms crossed, and narrowed your eyes at Rayleigh.

“Was that necessary?”

He tilted his head, utterly calm. “They’re mine.”

There was a beat of silence.

“…My hands?”

He didn’t clarify.

He just turned away, reached for a rag, and began wiping down the counter like he hadn’t just claimed ownership of your limbs and scared a grown man out of his shoes.

You stood there, staring at his back, half-annoyed and half-flushed, and realized with quiet horror that you didn’t mind it nearly as much as you should have.

One morning, you decided to wear one of your favorite shirts.

It wasn’t a statement. Not a plan. Just a choice made halfway through wiping your forehead on your sleeve for the third time before noon. The kitchen was sweltering, the stove was relentless, and your usual apron felt like a wool blanket soaked in steam. So you reached for something lighter. Breezier. A sleeveless, low-cut shirt that clung in all the places heat liked to settle. It wasn’t scandalous. Just comfortable. Practical. Your own little mercy.

Rayleigh did not handle it well.

He bumped into three walls before noon. Missed a step on the stairs and nearly took out a barrel. Forgot how to ask for tea halfway through the sentence and had to restart twice. At one point, he turned to say something, looked directly at your chest, and went completely silent.

Ten full seconds passed.

Then he blinked. His eyes darted away like he’d been caught in a crime scene photo. And then, without meeting your gaze, he mumbled a soft, “Apologies, love,” to your sternum like it was a sentient creature he had just deeply offended.

You stared at him in disbelief.

Then you handed him a drink to shut him up.

He took it gingerly, fingers brushing yours, and stared down at the cup in his hands like it was something sacred. Something far more than citrus and ice. As if you’d just proposed. Or wrote him poetry. Or handed him a deed to a quiet little cottage on the sea.

All because you wore a shirt.

You told yourself not to read into it. Not to linger on the way his hands tightened just slightly around the glass. Not to notice the way he hovered near the stove that day, silent and watchful, like he couldn’t decide if you were real or dangerous.

You told yourself it was just the heat.

But he never took his eyes off you for long.

Even when he tried to be subtle, even when he turned his back, you could feel it. The quiet awareness, the magnetic pull of his gaze like a tide tugging at your ankles. And he bumped into one more wall before dinner. Didn’t even try to explain it.

You figured the two of you could use a little breathing room. If a glimpse of cleavage was enough to compromise the composure of one of the most infamous pirates on the sea, perhaps some temporary distance would help recalibrate whatever strange, unspoken thing was blooming between you.

You weren’t even gone.

Just slipped into the next market stall over for half an hour to help a friend clean and season a fresh catch. It wasn’t anything dramatic. You were still within shouting distance, still in view if someone had bothered to lean out far enough.

And yet, when you stepped back into the main thoroughfare, Rayleigh looked like a man who had survived three wars, a personal betrayal, and seven days of nothing but hardtack and spiritual erosion.

He turned toward you with a sharp breath, shirt halfway unbuttoned, hair a wreck from where he’d raked his fingers through it too many times, pupils wide like he’d seen God and she had refused to season anything.

“Where were you?” he asked hoarsely, like he hadn’t been sure you’d ever return.

You blinked. “Helping a friend. Living a normal life. Cooking, once again.”

Rayleigh exhaled so hard his shoulders dropped. He looked genuinely relieved.

“Thank the stars,” he muttered. “I almost had to eat something Buggy cooked.”

From somewhere across the deck, Buggy screamed, “IT WAS JUST SPAGHETTI!”

“IT WAS SWEET,” Shanks hissed, clinging to the hem of your apron like a starving child. “LIKE. ACTUAL. DESSERT. SPAGHETTI.”

You didn’t ask for clarification. You didn’t want it. The horror in Shanks’ eyes told you everything you needed to know.

Later that night, just after the lanterns had been dimmed and the waves had quieted into their usual lull, Rayleigh knocked on your doorframe. He leaned against it like he wasn’t entirely sure how to stand anymore.

His shirt was still open. His hair was still a mess. He looked like he’d been dragged backward through a wind tunnel of domestic chaos and existential dread.

“I will literally wash every dish on the Oro Jackson with my tongue if you join.”

You stared at him.

He blinked. “Okay. Maybe not with my tongue. That’s… not sanitary. But—look.”

He stepped into the light, looking tired and profoundly sincere.

“They’re trying to replace you with me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And how’d that go?”

He held up a scorched pan with both hands, as if it were damning evidence. Something black and grainy clung to the inside like the remains of a failed summoning circle.

“We had to bury it,” Rayleigh said again, holding the scorched pan like it was a war memorial. His voice was grim. Quiet. The kind of solemn usually reserved for funerals or broken swords.

Before you could respond, Roger appeared beside him like a human avalanche of good intentions and poor impulse control.

He was holding three things.

A friendship bracelet, frayed and crooked, made of mismatched string and probably tears.

A crew application form that looked suspiciously hand-drawn and entirely unofficial, signed by what appeared to be half the ship in various levels of spelling competency.

And a crayon portrait, bright, clumsy, and endearingly awful, labeled in oversized lettering: Best Cook Ever (pls don’t leave us).

Rayleigh stood beside him, arms crossed, still shirtless, radiating dignity as if this entire scene wasn’t unfolding next to a glitter-glued drawing of you holding a spoon.

“If you don’t join,” he said, voice flat and heavy, “I will die.”

You stared.

“Possibly dramatically,” he added. “Possibly on purpose.”

You squinted at him. “You’ve survived the Grand Line. Sea Kings. God Valley. An actual volcano.”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “But not without your cooking.”

You frowned. “That’s not a compliment.”

Rayleigh tilted his head, that slow smirk just beginning to curl at the corner of his mouth. “It’s a threat.”

There was a beat of silence.

You blinked.

He smiled.

Somewhere behind you, Shanks tripped over a mop bucket while trying to rewrite the last line of the crew song to include your name.

You exhaled slowly. Not quite a groan. Not quite a sigh. Something between surrender and acceptance.

Because this wasn’t a crew.

It was a goddamn circus.

And somehow, without your permission, they’d made you the main act.

You sighed. “I’ll think about it. Maybe.”

Rayleigh’s grin nearly split his face. Roger threw the bracelet like confetti.

Technically, you said maybe to joining them.

Not yes. Not yet. Not even close.

Just a vague, tired murmur at the end of a long day, muttered more out of exhaustion than intent. You’d been wiping down the stall when Roger caught you off guard, elbow propped on your counter, voice soft and far too hopeful for a man wanted on every sea.

Maybe, you said. Perhaps you’d think about it. Maybe you’d consider sailing with them. Maybe you’d figure it out tomorrow, after a night of sleep and some time to weigh what it would mean to leave behind the one small corner of peace you’d built for yourself.

You had meant to take your time.

They didn’t wait.

They took your maybe as a yes, a declaration, a done deal.

And so you woke the next morning not in your cot. Not in your stall. Not to the familiar creak of the shutters or the hiss of your stove warming up.

You woke up on a ship.

Their ship.

The Oro Jackson.

You sat up slowly, blinking in disbelief, surrounded by the unmistakable scent of sea air and aged timber. The room swayed gently beneath you, hammocks creaked somewhere nearby, and seagulls cried in the distance.

There were sacks of flour stacked neatly near the wall. Your spice rack had been bolted to a shelf with what looked like hand-carved brackets. Your knives were lined up in a row, gleaming and familiar. And your best apron (washed, pressed, and folded) sat neatly beside a tin of your favorite tea leaves, tucked into the corner like a quiet apology.

Someone had even left you a cup of warm sake.

When you stormed above deck to confront Roger, he greeted you with a wave and a grin like this was all perfectly reasonable.

“You belong with us,” he called, as if that explained everything.

You stared at him, stunned. Furious. Confused.

He beamed harder.

And when you turned, slowly, toward Rayleigh, your breath caught in your throat.

He didn’t grin. He didn’t speak.

He just looked at you.

Softly. Steadily. Like you were already home. Like this had always been the end of the road, and all your resistance had been nothing more than a scenic detour.

You should have yelled. Should have demanded they turn the ship around, dock immediately, carry every damn sack of flour back to your stall by hand.

But instead, you stood there in the morning light, the wind pulling gently at your shirt, and didn’t say a word.

And, well… they had brought your knives.

They had packed your spices, folded your apron. Tucked your good ladle into your satchel like it might be needed on the road. You’d told yourself it was practical. A precaution. A habit.

But maybe it had been hope.

Maybe it had been instinct.

Or maybe it had always been him.

Roger stood at the helm, one hand on the wheel, grinning like a man who had just won a game no one else knew was being played. He waved when he saw you on deck, beaming, as if you hadn’t just woken up to find your entire life shifted under your feet.

And Rayleigh?

He was already watching.

Leaning against the mast with a calm that didn’t quite reach his eyes, arms at his sides, shirt half-unbuttoned from the morning sun. He didn’t smile. Didn’t move. Just stood there, quiet and waiting, gaze steady and unreadable.

Like he’d been waiting for you to open your eyes and finally see the truth that had always been there. Not a choice, not a trick. Just something old and simple. Something that fits.

Slow. Certain. Already home.

You stared back.

And you didn’t say no.

Because, if you were honest… The decision had already been made the moment you looked up and saw him in your kitchen, eating your food like it meant something.

Maybe it wasn’t a kidnapping.

Not really.

Maybe it was fate.

Or, worse.

Maybe it was Rayleigh.

That smug, maddening bastard with a voice like honey and a smirk that promised back pain, bad decisions, and a long, glittering trail of beautiful regrets. The kind of man who didn’t steal hearts so much as unlace them slowly, carefully, with velvet hands and wandering eyes. Then pretended he hadn’t done a thing.

The kind of man who made surrender feel like your idea.

So you did the only thing you knew how to do.

You turned on your heel, marched into the kitchen, and started to cook.

Your hands found rhythm in the familiar: chopping, stirring, seasoning. The motions were grounding, automatic, built into your bones. The scent of simmering broth rose around you, thick with spices and something a little like pride.

Rayleigh was nearby.

Suspiciously still.

Too still.

You heard him sigh behind you. Deep. Long. Heavy with something that was definitely not culinary despair.

Then silence again.

And then, another look. You could feel it, that slow, deliberate glance.

Because he was middle-aged, not dead.

You tried to ignore him. Truly, you did. Focused on the stew, the pot, the way the spices bloomed in the heat. But Rayleigh was still standing there. Quiet. Too quiet.

That was never a good sign.

When Rayleigh was that still, it meant one of three things: he was calculating, remembering, or fantasizing. Possibly all three.

You glanced over your shoulder.

He wasn’t moving. Just watching you, arms folded across his chest, one brow slightly drawn like he was thinking very hard about something he shouldn’t be thinking about in the galley.

Your ladle slowed in the pot.

His eyes didn’t leave you.

Neither of you spoke.

And beneath all of it—the soft hiss of the stove, the gentle creak of the ship, the low, steady bubbling of the broth—there was heat that had nothing to do with fire.

You recognized that look.

It wasn’t curiosity. It wasn’t idle thought.

Rayleigh wasn’t thinking about navigation. He wasn’t calculating coordinates or weather patterns or where they’d be by sunrise.

He didn’t blink.

His jaw tensed, ever so slightly.

And just like that, you knew: he was losing the battle with his imagination.

You let the silence stretch, then glanced over your shoulder with one brow raised, ladle paused mid-stir.

“Rayleigh?”

He snapped out of it fast. Too fast.

Looked startled. Looked guilty. Shrugged like the answer didn’t matter, like he hadn’t just mentally undressed you six different ways and married the idea for good measure.

You rolled your eyes and turned back to the pot.

Kept stirring.

And the next morning, your name was on the crew ledger.

Scrawled in someone’s best attempt at fancy handwriting, ink still drying, written directly beneath the official line for the quartermaster.

It read: Ship’s Goddess, Culinary Class. DO NOT ANGER HER.

Right where Rayleigh insisted it belonged.

Roger claimed it was a joke. Shanks swore it was a sign of respect. Buggy tried to add “Also immune to mutiny laws” until you threatened to feed him to a sea king with one hand tied behind your back.

But the truth was more straightforward. You cooked.

Not just food. Real food. Edible. Hot. Properly seasoned. Something with texture and flavor and love in it, even if you’d denied the last part.

You had made the stew.

And nobody cried. Well, Buggy cried a little, but that was more from emotion than spice.

You didn’t flinch when Gaban called you sugarcakes for the third time in a row. You didn’t bat an eye when Roger stole the entire tray of dumplings, shouted about divine revelation, and proposed to your curry. You just cooked, sighed, and kept moving, the same way you always had.

And for Roger, that was it. That was the win. The victory. The final proof that bringing you aboard had been the right call.

Until he looked up mid-meal and saw Rayleigh staring at your chest like it held the coordinates to Laugh Tale.

Not subtly.

Not briefly.

Roger dropped his spoon.

Rayleigh didn’t even notice.

He just kept looking, like your neckline was whispering secrets, like your collarbone had started a treasure hunt, and he was already halfway to drawing the map.

Roger cleared his throat. Loudly.

Rayleigh didn’t blink.

Shanks leaned in and whispered, “Should we… stop him?”

Roger just sighed, long and defeated. “He’s too far gone.”

And you?

You kept ladling soup.

Because someone had to.

It started with a look.

You were reaching for a spice jar. Nothing scandalous. Nothing theatrical. Just stretching toward the top shelf like any normal person trying to make dinner on a ship full of unsupervised pirates.

Your shirt rode up slightly.

Rayleigh choked on air.

You turned, jar in hand, eyebrows raised. “Are you dying, or just perving?”

He coughed once. Tried to recover. Failed. “Both,” he rasped. “Respectfully.”

You stared. Rayleigh looked away, as if the basil had personally betrayed him.

Rayleigh, for all his composure, had a mental list.

Not a vague idea.

Not a loose collection of thoughts.

A list.

Cataloged. Prioritized. Updated nightly.

If she trips and falls into my arms, marry her.

If she kisses me over soup, retire immediately.

If she moans while taste-testing: abandon all morals, sail directly into temptation.

If Gaban flirts again: duel to the death, consequences be damned.

He also had a backup hammock built.

You’d never seen it.

No one had.

It lived somewhere deep in the storage hold, hidden behind barrels of rum and denial. Carefully tied. Weatherproofed. Reinforced.

He called it The Matrimonial Option.

He’d told Roger once, offhandedly, during a storm.

“I’m not a complicated man,” he’d said. “I just need her, a skillet, and one flat surface big enough to build a life on.”

Roger had taken a long sip of his drink.

Then muttered, “Shouldn’t you be going a little slower?” before walking into the rain.

Rayleigh hadn’t answered.

He was too busy carving your initials into the frame of the spare hammock.

Captain’s Log: Subject: First Mate is Down Cataclysmically

Symptoms include:

– Eye contact paralysis

– Selective hearing when boobs are present

– Full-body flinch response every time she says his name in that sweet voice

– Butter knife threats at Gaban levels of violence

Roger stared down at the page, then slammed the logbook shut like it had personally insulted his leadership.

“This is stupid,” he muttered.

Gaban leaned back in his chair, arms folded, sipping something with far too much rum and even more judgment. “He’s in love,” he said, entirely too smug.

“He’s in lust,” Roger shot back.

Behind them, footsteps echoed across the deck. Rayleigh passed by in a loose shirt and sharper frown, one hand outstretched to shield your body from a gust of sea wind like it might bruise you. He didn’t even break stride.

Roger watched him go, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “See? That. That right there.”

Gaban raised his drink. “Still in love.”

Roger shook his head. “He’s just in it for the boobs.”

There was a pause.

Gaban tilted his head thoughtfully. “I mean… they are pretty nice boobs.”

Roger hesitated. “Yeah. They are.”

Both men nodded, solemn.

“But someone’s gotta tell him to stop staring,” Roger said after a beat.

Gaban took another sip. “You.”

“No, you.”

“Not a chance. He’s been sharpening that cutlass.”

Roger stared at him.

Gaban shrugged again. “I like my limbs.”

There was another silence.

From across the deck, Rayleigh paused mid-step and glanced over at you again. The same look. Soft. Starstruck. Catastrophically doomed.

Roger sighed so hard it became a prayer.

Rayleigh was doing his best not to be a lech. Women didn’t like that, so it was of the utmost importance that he showcased his other skills to entice a mate.

Truly. With every ounce of discipline honed over decades at sea, he was trying.

And you were talking about something important, probably even urgent. But he couldn’t focus. Not when your shirt had all the structural integrity of a loose sail in a storm. 

Who designed that thing? Was it legal? Was it certified to be worn in the presence of emotionally compromised first mates?

He rubbed the bridge of his nose like he could massage the filth out of his brain.

It didn’t work.

You leaned forward.

The neckline shifted.

He looked away so fast that his chair tilted. One leg lifted off the floor before he righted it with a grunt, fingers tightening on the armrests like he was bracing for impact.

You, oblivious or not, continued. You were holding a map, damn it. A map. Pointing to wind currents and pressure zones, and how the Grand Line bent physics over a table and made it beg.

And he was staring at the topographical miracle of your chest.

Not even intentionally. That was the worst part.

It just… pulled his eyes. Like gravity. Or divine punishment. He tried to focus on the latitude line. He really did.

But all his brain could think was: Those aren’t just mountains on the map.

He coughed violently, trying to cover the sound of his soul short-circuiting.

You paused mid-sentence.

And caught him.

You didn’t say anything.

You just looked at him. One brow lifted, hand on your hip, the other still holding the map like it was a fan in a play, and you were definitely using it as a weapon now. A prop. A trap.

Rayleigh stared at the ceiling. Then the floor. Then closed his eyes like a condemned man making peace with the gallows.

“Sweetheart,” he said slowly, voice low and rough, scraped raw from the weight of restraint, “I have fought emperors. I have out-drunk fleets. I have escaped execution naked and barefoot in the snow.”

He opened his eyes.

“But if you don’t put a different shirt on, I am going to sin so profoundly the sea will split down the middle just to avoid watching.”

You smiled.

Didn’t move.

You were doing it on purpose.

Absolute menace.

It didn’t take long for word to spread across the Grand Line.

You had legendary tits and could make a stew that made hardened pirates weep like children.

Naturally, this was a problem.

Not for you, of course. You were fine. Thriving, even. But for everyone else—specifically, anyone with the misfortune of standing too close, staring too long, or daring to compliment the way you stirred a pot—life had become significantly more dangerous.

Because Rayleigh had entered what the crew was now referring to, in hushed tones, as feral husband mode.

It had started subtly.

A glance here. A hand resting at the small of your back when another captain passed a little too slowly. A smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes when a merchant offered you a “free sample.”

But subtle didn’t last.

Not when he realized other men were looking at you the same way he looked at dessert, like you were a rare indulgence, warm and soft and just waiting to be devoured.

One poor bastard in Water 7 asked for your recipe and your measurements in the same sentence.

Rayleigh didn’t speak.

He just handed the man a spoon.

Then took it back.

And bent it in half.

With one hand.

You hadn’t even noticed the offense. You were too busy yelling at Shanks for stealing dumplings again.

But Rayleigh?

Rayleigh was watching the world like a man prepared to kill for love and soup in equal measure.

And heaven help whoever thought they could separate the two.

Exhibit A: Buggy

“Wow,” Buggy said brightly, leaning across the table with the most respectful expression his face could manage, “you’ve got a great—”

Clink.

Rayleigh didn’t even look up from his map. He simply reached out and placed his sword on the table. Calm. Precise. A gentle tap of steel against wood. The kind of motion that didn’t scream threat so much as whisper it with murderous confidence.

Buggy froze mid-sentence.

“…smile,” he finished weakly.

Rayleigh raised one eyebrow. Slowly. Deliberately.

Buggy backed away with the careful movements of a man realizing he had just complimented the moon in front of a werewolf. And the werewolf was holding a blade.

Exhibit B: Gaban (Again)

“I’m just saying,” Gaban mused, leaning lazily against the ship’s railing as you bent over a basket of spices nearby, “if she wanted to lean over me like that in the kitchen, I wouldn’t mind.”

He grinned to himself. It was a very self-satisfied kind of grin.

Rayleigh appeared behind him like a spirit summoned by lust and poor timing.

“Funny,” he said, tone pleasant, almost conversational. “I was just thinking you looked flammable today.”

Gaban turned.

Saw the look in Rayleigh’s eyes.

And promptly excused himself to go fall off the ship on purpose.

Exhibit C: A Bounty Hunter Who Looked for Too Long

He didn’t say anything.

Didn’t whistle. Didn’t catcall. Didn’t utter a word.

He just stared. A little too long. A little too low. While you were hauling in a crate, bouncing slightly from the effort, sleeves rolled up, neck glistening with sweat and sea spray.

Rayleigh didn’t make a sound.

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t warn.

He just picked the man up and dropped him into the ocean like a sack of potatoes that had committed a felony.

Splash.

Roger leaned over the railing, tankard in hand, and shouted cheerfully, “She’s taken, mate!”

Rayleigh didn’t look away from the water. “She’s mi—ours.”

You, five feet away, still holding the crate: “I’m literally right here. Do I get a vote?”

Rayleigh: “No.”

You: “Rude.”

Rayleigh: “Correct.”

And then he handed you a clean rag for the sweat on your brow, kissed your cheek like a man unbothered by legal definitions of ownership, and went right back to charting a course like he hadn’t just waterboarded a stranger with possessiveness.

The Grand Line got the message.

[jjkarmy091]

Know too much- Jungkook

Genre: Romance; angst; slow burn; friends2lovers; Warnings: strong language; mentions of death; mention of r*pe; eventual smut Wordcount: 15k Ps- English is not my first language so I'm sorry for any mistakes! I always try my best! Not proofread

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This gonna be divided in two part because it has gotten too long

You always loved the idea of love: the romance, the effort, the cumplicity: everything related to it- but one thing it never occured you was the jealousy you'd feel.

You finished high school in 2015 and decided to take a sabbatical year where you'd do whatever you wanted: you had some part time jobs, had gone to parties your closest friends, but you got tired and wanted more so when you found out the application period for college exams was going to open you didn't hesitate. Truth is you were always a very homely person, barely leaving your house, not because your parents wouldn't let you, they kept insisting for you to go have some funa and clear your head, but you didn't like that type of enviroment. Instead, you'd rather stay home reading or watching movies than going out until it started affecting your mental health, isolating you from everything and everyone. That was the main reason why your parents told you to take a full year for you to enjoy yourself. You only had a few close friends, but the ones you had were worth 10 of them. Not to gush, but you were lucky with the people around you. When high school ended, your best friend Rosé would go out and insisted on taking you with her. That's how your story with Jungkook began.

You and him met in mid-February 2016. Rosé was talking to a guy named Tae, you'd see the pictures she usually posted on Instagram of the two of them and another guy with a rather peculiar style. In one of those pictures you saw he was all in black, with some necklaces bigger than him (almost) and very thin, however, his eyes were what caught your attention the most. Despite all the black he wore, his bambi brown eyes gave him a very sweet and innocent appearence. Rosé always insisted on you to go out with her and her new group of friends. For some reason she wanted to introduce you to them, even though you always said you had no interest in it until you were so tired of hearing her talk about the same thing over and over again, you agreed to go with her and those "so new" friends.

You and Rosé went to a well known pub in the city, being the first ones to get there, asking for two cokes with lemon and ice. Maybe fifteen minutes later you notice two guys coming in and looking around, they were both tall, one with curly light brown hair while the other had very dark hair and bambi eyes. That's when you realized it was him, the guy you had identified before, however, this time without the all-black outfit. Instead he had a plain white shirt and ripped jeans and a pair of earrings. You had to admit he was extremely handsome, thin but muscular, everyone could tell he was into exercising or had started going to the gym. The first to arrive at the table and introduce himself was Tae, a super communicative and outgoing guy, you could see how comfortable he was with people, just as Rosé. Behind him came his friend, who introduced himself as Jungkook, however, unlike Tae, he was someone more quiet and reserved, like you. Tae sat down next to Rosé after greeting you, forcing Jungkook to sit next to you.

As time passed it was palpable the chemistry between Tae and Rosé as they talked and leaned over each other, gently and discreetly caressing each other's leg, hand or shoulder. After a while they said they would go for a smoke, leaving you and Jungkook alone. It couldn't have been more awkward between you two at first. He was shy and so were you, there was simply no conversation between you other than an exchange of glances here and there. You were about to get up to meet the others outside when he spoke.

"If I were you I wouldn't go."

"Why not?"

"They're probably sucking each others tongue at this very moment." you made a disgusted face

"Whewwww gross. You think?"

"Ohh believe me I'm sure of it" He laughed and damn you for noticing how pretty his smile was. You didn't know if he had braces or veneers before but fuck - what a perfect and white smile he had- You swear if you had that kind of smile you'd never stop using it.

"I'm Y/n by the way. I didn't get the chance to properly introduce myself before"

"Nice to meet you Y/n"

You had a feeling he was gonna give you trouble

and he did

You blamed that bunny smile of his.

After that night, you and Jungkook became super friends. In fact, he ended up taking you home since Tae and Rosé left together. Along the way, you ended up talking even more and getting to know each other better: you knew he was 23 years old, had studied art and that he now worked in a graphics store while taking a tattoo artist course. You told him you were 19 and turned 20 in the summer. You also shared your intentions on going to college that same year to study education since you loved children and your biggest dream was to be a kindergarten teacher. You also ended up discovering you had a lot of things in common, you had to admit it was worth going out with your best friend that specific day because the boys were super fun and nice people to hang with and you really enjoyed interacting with them. Rosé and Tae started dating shortly after that day, so it was inevitable that you wouldn't see Jungkook more often, making him a big part of your life.

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June 2016

The week of your university exams arrived and you were very nervous, at this point you were afraid you would get there and forget even your name. On the days you had exams, Jungkook always remembered to send you a message of support and that relieved a lot of the pressure you felt. After the fourth and final exam, you finally breathed a sigh of relief, feeling like you could enjoy summer as you should.

As you were leaving school, you heard someone call your name. You looked back and saw Jungkook walking towards you, however, you realized he wasn't alone. Beside him was Maddie, a girl who had been in your class, but failed due to excessive absences and had to repeat the year again. You were happy to hear she managed to finish it, you heard some rumors about her being absent at the time because of an abortion she had. It was never confirmed or at least you never heard anything about it again. Honestly you never thought you'd see her doing the admission exams, since she didn't really like to study either. You were happy yet quite surprised to see him with her.

When you saw the two of them you tried to look away, picking up your phone as if you were replying to a text, but from the corner of your eye you saw Maddie giving a kiss on the corner of Jungkook's lips while he smiled, having his arm around her waist, with his hand resting on her ass. You don't know why, but that made your stomach twist. Then you saw her whisper something in his ear, to which he nodded and they each went their separate ways, her into school and him closer to where you were.

"Hello smarty pants. How was the last exam? Ready to enjoy summer the right way?"

"Stop it" you laughed. " It was good I guess. I don't think I have to worry about it, the worst part was the math exam. What are you doing here anyway? Stalking much?" Jungkook put an arm around your shoulders

"Not even! Honestly I didn't know you studied here. I recognized your figure when I came to drop Maddie off. I'm sure you've crossed paths before, right? She's a year older than you and doing finals aswell"

"Ohh yeah I know her, she was in my class and she's just a couple months older than me but who's counting. Didn't know you had a girlfriend" You pulled away from him so that the arm previously around your shoulders fell away. "I don't want any problems with her, I heard she has a temper" He brought you close to him again.

"What girlfriend? I don't have a girlfriend, I'm single and ready to mingle. I'm sure you'd know if I had one. You really think I'd be hanging out with all of you instead of my girl? I'm not stupid Y/n- I love you guys but I'd never choose hanging with my friends over my girl every night" You looked at him confused. "Then what are you?"

"We are just friends."

"That didn't look like friends to me"

"We met on a party I went with some friends, we hit off and have been fooling around since then."

"Ohhhh that type of friends, got it" you were silent for a moment until you spoke again. "never pegged you as that kind of guy" Jungkook made an offended face "Wow. Why are you saying that like it's the worst thing in the world?"

"Sorry I didn't mean it like that. What I meant was that since I met you I always had the idea that you were more of a serious type? I dn't know how to put it in words, justI didn't think you'd be the type to have friends with benefits. I don't know how to explain it- why are we even talking about this? Wheeew. "

"I'm shy at first, not blind Y/n. I'm human and like everyone else I have needs. Just because I don't want any kind of relationship right now doesn't mean I'm trash with them. I'm focused on enjoying my life but I don't have to be naive when it comes to sex and girls. I know what they want and they know what I want, it's easy" He said it jokingly, but you felt attacked. "and we are talking about it because you brought it up. Are you gonna tell me you've never done the same?" The only thing you said to him was "shut up" along with a punch in the arm, which definitely hurt youmore than it did to him.

How much has this guy grown physically in a short space of time?

The week had finally come to an end and Friday night arrived and you, Rosé, Tae and Jungkook were in the usual spot, having the usual conversations. They were sharing what they were going to do over the weekend, while you, on the other hand, were tired and sad. You had a fight with your mother so you were quieter tonight. It was rare for it to happen but when it did, it sucked. She is the type who never thinks before saying things and when she realizes it the damage is already done. Remember when people say words are more painful than a slap? that's you. You always considered your mother as your best friend, you knew you could count on her for everything and honestly if it wasn't for her supporting you after your first boyfriend treated you like shit just because you didn't feel comfortable initiating something sexual with him when you were 16, you don't know if you would have made it this far.

It was regular for you and Josh to go to your house or his after school, to study together and have some fun as a typical young couple who are at the beginning of their sexual discovery, however, you still didn't feel ready to go all the way. Of course you had already done other types of foreplay, but not the act itself. You had been dating for 6 months and at first he was super respectful but then he was increasingly pressuring you to do it, always implying if you didn't want to it was because you didn't really like him. You had already learned how to deal with it as he always ended up respecting your wishes until that one day.

You had just arrived home and your parents were still at work as usual. You had prepared some snacks and were in the living room watching tv until he started getting closer to you and give you little kisses on the neck and that was alright because there was nothing new, however, he started to be rougher, more aggressive and started to hurt you in the process. When you realized everything, you started to panick and begging him to stop, but he wouldn't. You did everything you could to get out of his grip, yet he was stronger and heavier than you so all your attempts were in vain. You just remember crying and trying to scream, asking him to stop and him kissing you everywhere and touching you in places you didn't want.

You know it was a miracle when you hear a key being inserted into the door and see your mother come in. Both your parents usually didn't get home until 8 or 9 at night, if not later. Your mother was a nurse and your father was a businessman so their schedules were difficult to know sometimes. When your mom saw you in that state she immediately went to help you and that's the last you can remember. Your therapist had said sometimes our brain blocks our traumatic memories as a protective mechanism and that's what happened to you. Since that moment you haven't been able to get involved with anyone on a more intimate level. You had a lot of support from your parents and if they were protective before, they became even more so after what happened.

Fortunately, and with therapy, you were gradually able to overcome this trauma, being able to live your life like before again, with a lot of help from Rosé too. That's why whenever you fought with your mother, especially over stupid things, you ended up feeling somewhat guilty and ungrateful. While you were listening to your friends talking, your phone started ringing and you looked at the screen and saw "mummy". Standing up you told them you were going to answer a call and went out to talk to her. At the end of the call you were calmer and she even apologized to you. Surprising, I know. When you were getting ready to go back you felt someone's presence behind you and turned around, coming across a worried Jungkook.

"Is everything okay?"

"Ohh yeah everything's fine. My mom called me and I couldn't hear anything inside" Jungkook sat down on a little stair near the entrace mentioning for you to do the same.

"I noticed you're very quiet today and that's not you. What's wrong?"

"I had a huge fight with my mom today. It's rare when we fight but when it happens it's bad and it was over something so ridiculous. Now she called me to apologize and ask if I was alright and said she would always support me no matter what I decided to do and yeah that definitely made me feel better. Thanks for noticing Kook"

"No problem, smartass. We are friends and if you are unwell of course I will be concerned. Next time talk to me, maybe it will relieve you, you don't have to bear everything alone, you know that right?"

"I know you do, but thank you anyway." There was a pause and then you looked at him again and wrinkled your nose "I'm glad Rosé bugged me over and over again to hang out with you guys, it was probably one of the best decisions I've ever made in my life."

"I wish I had met you sooner, you know. In a way I think my life would have taken a 360 degree turn for the better if that had happened before." As he said this, his voice was so serious and soft at the same time it sent shivers down your spine. At that moment there was something between you and him that you couldn't describe, but you knew it was comforting, those words had made you feel shy, so you moved closer to him and laid your head on his shoulder.

"You may not believe it, but I believe things happen when and how they have to happen and if we only met now it is for a reason. Perhaps if we had met before we wouldn't get along as well as we do now. It's all in good time Kookie, even if we think it isn't." Jungkook grabbed your hand and intertwined it with yours, laying his head on top of yours. After that, neither of you spoke again, staying there feeling the gentle wind on your faces. You loved being like this with him, close to him, protected by him, because you knew that for you and your heart that was already a little more than just friendship.

After that day you didn't see Jungkook for some days, something about him being too busy managing his personal and professional life according to Tae's words. He, you and Rosé were having a great time. Together you would go to the pub every night, going to the city's famous nightclub aswell. Not that you were a club girl, you were more for them than for yourself, yet you can't deny you ended up having a good time. You found yourself missing Jungkook a lot more you thought you would, wondering what had him all caugh up that he couldn't even hang with you anymore.

Would it be Maddie or someone new?

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July 2016

Three weeks later and your birthday was finally here and you were super excited. You always loved celebrating birthdays, the coexistence, the surprises, everything about it excited you and this year wouldn't be different. You had gone to your grandparents house for the weekend with your parents. They lived two hours away from you so whenever you went to visit them you made sure to enjoy every second. During the days you were there, you always talked to Rosé, who told you how things were going with Tae and in a way also gave you updates on Jungkook. Apparently he had gone to a tattoo artists' conference abroad and forgot to activate his data so he could talk to everyone, losing his phone midway his trip. You were happy to know the reason for his disappearance was entirely professional.

You got back on Wednesday night a little before dinner time. You had just finished packing all your things when you heard someone knock on your bedroom door. Opening the door, you're met with a super excited Rosé "I missed you so much". She may look tough, but deep down you know she's a softie. You knew her presence there wasn't for nothing. According to her she was on a mission to get you to hang out with the group a bit. Initially you refused, saying you were too tired, but she knows how to persuade people very well and before you knew it, you were all dressed up and ready to walk out the door.

When you arrived at your usual spot you saw the usual table, occupied by the usual people, only this time there was one more person: a girl more or less your height and with dark, long hair. Honestly, her features were identical to yours, the only difference was the style of clothing she wore to show off her beautifully sculpted body. You didn't have that body, you were a little fuller than her, with more hips and your legs touched - your biggest insecurity. She took the seat next to Jungkook, where you usually sat. Rosé didn't notice your sudden change in behavior, perhaps because she was already focused on her boyfriend who was pointing to the seat next to him. When the others finally noticed your presence, both Jungkook and the mysterious girl next to him looked back and for a second you forgot how to walk. Shit. It's only been three weeks since you last saw him, but he looked different: stronger, more defined, more tattooed and even more handsome. He changed his haircut too and added two more earrings to the one he already had. Your eyes met for a few minutes, until you reached the table saying hi to everyone

"Y/n finally you give us an opportunity to see your pretty face" Tae said wrapping one arm around Rosé's chair. "I thought you were mad at us and were going to pull a Jungkook stunt."

"As if Tae, as if. It's only been five days since you last saw me, there's no need for you to miss me that much. Besides, you knew where I was and I was always contactable," you said, walking around the table. You noticed Jungkook had opened a space between him and Tae, perhaps for you to sit there, however, you grabbed a chair and pulled it next to Rosé. You saw Jungkook frowning.

"Yeah you're right. Regarding that, Jungkook is the master champ without a doubt, disappeared without saying anything and when he returned he brought a friendly surprise with him." Tae was teasing Jungkook but didn't get any reaction from him. You shrugged, opening the can of Coke Zero you ordered and pouring it into the glass with ice and lemon. "Expected" was all you said about it before the mood grew tense. Jungkook was still quiet, despite the girl next to him laughing at what was being said. The rest of the time was spent talking about plans for the rest of the summer and what to do before college started until Rosé mentioned your birthday.

"So as you guys know our Y/n's birthday is tomorrow and we have to celebrate properly, so tomorrow get ready to party all night long. There are no exceptions, so don't even remember to make plans for tomorrow, you hear Y/n? I'm going to be extremely upset" Rosé made you pinky swear you wouldn't bail at your own party. Around eleven p.m you left the pub where you were, ready to go home. Rosé and Tae were going home together and Jungkook was also supposed to go with the girl whose name you didn't know yet. You had two options: either you'd go with your best friend and her boyfriend or you'd for a walk alone. Obviously you chose the second option. Don't get the wrong impression, you loved to see them happy but you weren't going to submit yourself to that humiliation and even though she said they were going to take you home, you preferred to walk. It was your initial plan until Jungkook spoke to you for the first time that night.

"I can take you home Y/n. I have my car and Catherine lives nearby, we'll drop her quickly and then I'll drop you off safely" So that was her name- Catherine- how fancy you wanted to say. You declined the offer, saying you wanted to walk but Rosé insisted on what a good idea it was and how she felt more at ease knowing Jungkook was the one taking you, claiming she knew who to kill if something happened to you leaving you no choice but to hop on the car with him and fancy Catherine.

She went in the front seat while you got in the back. You heard them talk but you weren't interested in understanding what they were saying just in case you heard something you shouldn't. Instead you were focused in the view outside and how calm it seemed to be, with the light breeze passing over your skin. Five minutes later you felt the car stop and saw fancy Cathy kiss Jungkook on the cheek, says she would see him tomorrow, opened the door and left without saying anything to you. After all why would she? You didn't speak to her once or even tried to talk to her so you couldn't judge. She got out, yet the car remained stopped. At first you thought he was waiting for her to get inside but there was no sign of her anymore. You looked at Jungkook and he was already staring at you through the rearview mirror. "What?"

"I'm waiting for you to move to the front seat. Isn't that how it usually is?"

"I'm good, wasn't planning to move from here for a ten minute ride anyway." You have to admit that sounded harsher than it was supposed to. He didn't respond, but the car remained still. You heard him sigh. "If you don't move to the front then I'm the one who's going to the back" You mocked him

"You wouldn't do that, especially in front of fancy Cathy's house"

"Wanna bet?" Jungkook started by taking off his seatbelt and when he was about to open the door you got out and sat in the front seat. He grinned. "See? You moved pretty fast" you simply gave him your middle finger. "Soooo... fancy Cathy? Is that what we're calling her now?"

"I thought the name was very fancy, hence the nickname. Does it bother you?"

"Not me. Seems like it bothers you much more than it bothers me." You laughed "Keep dreaming" Jungkook drove just a few meters until he stopped the car in a small, empty park, turned off the car and looked at you, this time with a look that affected your entire body. "What's going on?" You gave him a confused look. "You're acting weird"

"I'm acting weird? You were the one disappearing on everyone and when you came back you spoke to everyone but me. Just figured you were occupied"

"That was my bad and I already apologized for that mistake. I had a last minute conference, it was work related I couldn't just say no. Then I lost my phone and all the contacts, it sucked to be honest, thank you for asking. When I saw Tae and Rosé again, you were already out of town, figured I'd wait for you to come back and tell you about my bad luck myself but then you didn't even spare me a glance"

"Well I'm sorry. Didn't want to get you in trouble"

"Catherine and I are just friends. She's new in town and just started working on the same store where I tattoo. We went to the conference together plus our boss, we ended up bonding" You scoffed at him

"I can imagine" Jungkook rolled his eyes. "Anyway, how long will we be here looking at nothing? It's midnight and I wanna re-" You couldn't finish the sentence because you saw Jungkook pick up a mini cupcake with a candle on top and grab a lighter.

"Happy birthday smarty pants"

The night of your birthday was starting off really nice.

You and your friends had dinner at one of your favourite restaurants. Jungkook, Tae and Rosé gave you an hotel gift card for two people for 5 nights. Then you guys head off for Seven Rings nightclub, where the majority of teenagers would go. That night you swore to only have fun, so you danced, drank and had cigarettes stolen from Jungkook, who was very displeased and gave them to you after a lot of insistence. You weren't a smoker but when you drank you felt the urge to taste that bitter cigarette taste.

You were on your fourth Sex on the beach and had to admit the jumpsuit Rosé had given you two years ago made you feel pretty sexy and confident. You had rarely used it and thought your birthday was a special day to do so. When you showed up, your friends jaw dropped and for a moment you think you saw Jungkook adjust his pants, or maybe it was just the three beers you had earlier taking effect. Either way, you were feeling amazing and after so many drinks you couldn't care less about your surroundings. Tae was the designated driver, which meant everyone else, including you, were drunk.

Right now you're on the dance floor with Rosé while Tae and Jungkook had gone to get a drink. You were so focused on the music that you only noticed a pair of hands around your waist when someone turned you around and came face to face with you. Jungkook had a cocktail in his hand while the other was on you, pressing you against him. He looked divine: black pants and plaid shirt slightly open and tight to his body, with some of his new tattoos on display and hair longer than usual. You can't deny he was a charming and sexy man and you couldn't judge the fact that all the women ate him up with their eyes, it's not like you've never done that either, like yesterday, when he dropped you off and you went to your room, grabbed your vibrator and started pleasing yourself thinking about him. You can't recall having such a strong orgasm before. Now he was dancing so close to you you could feel his breath hit your nose and you were sure he could feel your heart beat fast too. You could smell the perfume he 'stole' from you a while back too.

"If no one has told you yet let me be the first to say you look extremely sexy today"

"Well thank you loverboy. I tried my best today, after all it's not everyday you have an opportunity to celebrate another year of life" Jungkook approached your face even more, just to whisper in your ear "I'm glad to have an opportunity this year and I hope to have many more in the coming years as well."

"Ohh Kookie if I didn't know any better I'd say you were flirting with me" You knew the conversation had to end but you didn't expect him to keep up with your game.

"Who told you I'm not?" He was looking at you so intensely and you were so close to each other the only thing you could look at was his lips. You got closer and closer and when your lips were about to touch someone pulled him away. Behind him was Fancy Cathy in a top that showed almost everything and a skirt that looked more like panties. For such a fancy name, her clothing choices left a lot to be desired.

Jungkook was a little stunned, but managed to say something to her, turning his attention to you again with hopeful eyes. You know what he intended, but you couldn't. You had a plan for yourself and you couldn't get away from it, besides, he was one of your best friends, getting involved would ruin everything and he had already said he wasn't looking for something serious or a long-term relationship. You knew his focus was on enjoying life and having as many hook ups as possible. He tried to pull you close again but you stepped away a little and took a deep breath, excusing yourself to catch some air. He followed you "Y/n wait" - he reached for your arm as you turned around to face him again "talk to me!"

"There is nothing to talk about Jungkook this is wrong! I'm drunk and so are you, we'd wake tomorrow regretting our actions and would make things awkward between us. Let's face it, we'd never work out"

"Why? How'd you know that if you don't give yourself a chance to figure it out?" you hurt him and you could tell by his voice

"How do I know? just by what you told me Jungkook. I don't wanna be one of the many friends you fool around with whenever you feel like it and move on from when you're bored. That's you, not me"

"That's what you think of me hum? Good to know. Sorry for reading it all wrong." he started to turn around but looked at you again "You're right in one thing though, we'd never work out wanna know why? Because I wouldn't be able to handle such a prude like you. And just so you know, the only reason I went out with you on the first day was because Rosé and Tae convinced me. You didn't get along with anyone and your best friend would get so worried about you that Tae wanted to fuck her without having to worry about you calling her all the time"

Suddenly everything slowed down, the words, the people, the music- everything- Is that why she always insisted for you to go out with them and meet other people? because you were a burden? You didn't realize you were alone outside, nor that you sat on a chair looking into the darkness with tears streaming down your eyes, much less did you remember Rosé approaching you. Everything was blank

"Y/n? hey girl, are you feeling okay? Jungkook went inside saying he messed up. What happened?" You tried to say something but nothing would come out, only tears. The shock of those words left you completely speechless and the only thing you wanted was to get out of there. Rosé was joined by Tae, who looked at you with panic and concerned eyes, tried to get close to you but you pushed him and he didn't force it. When you felt calmer, you got up without talking to any of them and went to the bathroom. There, you cleaned the mess on your face and texted your dad if he could come and pick you up. You got an answer within 2 minutes telling you to wait for him outside the club. You left the bathroom and went to the girl who keeps the coats and bags and handed over your ID to get your belongings back when Rosé found you again. "Y/n talk to me, what's wrong with you? What did Jungkook say to make this upset?"

"What did he say? What you never had the courage to tell me. I already understood everything Rosé. Don't worry, it's okay, I'm tired and I want to go home, my father is already on his way so there's no need to worry about my whereabouts. Enjoy it with your friends" As you headed towards the exit, you looked at the counter and you were sure it was Jungkook ordering a drink with Fancy Cathy by his side. Son of a bitch - he ruined your night, turned your head into mush and still comes out on top.

Motherfucker

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The next day you woke up with a massive headache. Your phone had ran out of battery and you didn't even bother to plug it. You made it load up, opened the windows and went to take a shower. Your parents had already gone to work, meaning you were on your own. Your father was very worried about you last night, but you said everything was fine, that your period started and you were in pain and uncomfortable. You don't know if he believed it, but it helped for him not to bring up the subject again.

30 minutes after a nice shower, you wrapped yourself on your towel and got dressed. You glanced at your phone and saw dozens of messages from Rosé and Tae, but nothing from Jungkook. You figured he was too busy fooling around with fancy Cathy to acknowledge the shit he said yesterday. You ignored them all, put your headphones on and decided to tidy up your room, which was a mess. Next week you'd know the answers from the colleges you applied to and if everything went well you'd be far away by the end of September.

4 days passed after that day

Every now and then you'd receive a text from Rosé mostly. From Tae you received two the day after the incident saying "whatever Jungkook said, I'm sorry" and "please don't push us away. Rosé and I are worried about you" None of them ever mentioned Jungkook, nor had he tried to contact you after that. One of those times, you replied to Rosé saying you needed some space and wanted to be alone. Despite everything, she was still your best friend and it wasn't her fault, but Jungkook's words echoed in your head over and over again.

Monday.

You had finally left your house after being locked up for days. Your mother was working at the animal shelter she used to volunteer and asked you to stop by the grocery store to pick up a few things she needed. 3 p.m and you were wearing black shorts and a gray tshirt and your hair was loose, freshly washed. You had your headphones on and were completely relaxed in Walmart when you saw a familiar figure. You tried to turn around without anyone noticing you, but it was impossible because you immediately felt a hand on your arm. When you turn around, you come face to face with a worried and sad Rosé.

"Please don't run away Y/n. You're killing me with worry and you've distanced yourself from me and I don't even know why." At that moment you felt a pang of guilt- she was right - despite everything, the mess was between you and Jungkook, not anyone else. You bought what you needed and the two of you went for a drink nearby. Even without any need, you were nervous.

"I miss you bestie. What the hell happened that night? I spoke with Jungkook and the only thing he said was how he fucked up and how sorry he was. He disappeared too, Tae has been with him but refuses to let me know what the hell happened and I just feel lost."

The events of that night pass through your memory for the thousandth time. "Jungkook and I were dancing. We were both kinda drunk, he flirted with me and I flirted back, friendly teasing. Then we started getting closer and closer until we were interrupted by the friend who went with us the other day. She messed with Jungkook and I think it dawned on me what was about to happen and I panicked" suddenly you felt tears prying your eyes but you kept talking. "I started thinking about my future plans, our friendship, our goals… about how he behaves when it comes to girls- I don't know, I was afraid of I don't even know what honestly. I ended up telling him I needed some air and he followed me, we argued. I told him we were both drunk and were confusing things and we would regret our actions the next day and it wasn't going to work out between us. He freaked out, but I was honest Rosé. After Josh I never got along with any other male, I don't see things the way he sees them, how he handles female friendships- I was an idiot but so was he"- You took a deep breath- "In the end he agreed we would never work out because he couldn't be with a prude like me and that he only started hanging out with me because you guys had convinced him. Not to mention that Tae was fed up with you constantly being worried about me that you couldn't even fuck, something like that. After half of those words I couldn't think straight and I just wanted to run away from there so I went to the bathroom and asked my dad to pick me up. The end."

Rosé's expression was pure shock. "Y/n that's.... That's not true. I mean yeah me and Tae wanted to introduce you to him but only because we thought you guys would hit off pretty good and in fact you did! It had nothing to do with us fucking- anyway. I am speachless. Peanut, I'm so sorry for this mess, I didn't realize any of that, if only I had seen it coming." Rosé grabbed your hand and squeezed it - "I didn't even notice Jungkook was drinking- I heard him say he'd only be up to water and juice- which is not an excuse- I- Fuck!" she stopped talking for a bit " I spoke with him after you left, he was panicking, saying he messed everything up with you, how he didn't mean to say what he did. Tae went with him to catch some air while I stayed with Catherine, we dropped him home and then he vanished aswell" She didn't say anything else and you weren't interested in knowing more about him either. You know you overreacted that day, but that didn't justify the angry words that came out of his mouth. If you knew, you would never have gone to that damn nightclub.

You and Rosé continued to sit there and after you calmed down, she changed the subject. You already missed being with her like this: with no stress, without worries. Shortly after, you returned home, but not before promising her you wouldn't vanish again without first giving an explanation. Truth to be told, she was always more rational than you.

The rest of the days flew by. You never saw Jungkook again and you also chose not to cross paths with Tae, perhaps out of shame of what he might have heard and what he might know. The good part was that you started doing more for yourself: you joined the gym, you committed to reading more and soon you'd know where you were going to study. You were excited as hell, after everything, you just wanted to get out of that city, meet new people, focus on something other than how Jungkook made you feel that night and how little he cared about you.

He wasn't a bad person and he never gave you reasons to be mad at him and maybe you overreacted that night and were a bit off limits with what you said, but the way you'd see him with different girls would always make you feel tensed up and weird. How could he be with so many girls at the same time? You knew he had a type: all the girls he had been with were so similar to you that you didn't want to be just one more of his conquest.

You were now 19 and still a virgin, always extremely shy and never felt comfortable with guys after Josh so that topic was something you were sensitive about. No one knew other than Rosé-who was way more experienced than you- however she never pressured you into anything, on the opposite, she always encouraged you over the person who was your first, since she had a terrible experience in this aspect. Intimicy was something you found difficult to have with someone else and maybe that's the main reason it'd confuse you how Jungkook could be with so many people at the same time and for them to be alright, you'd never understand that.

Ohhh Jungkook

He never reached out or would cross patches with you either. Whenever you'd hang out with Rosé and Tae he'd never show up. There was this one time you think you saw him at the same place as you but you panicked so much you didn't get the courage to see if it was really him or not. When you looked back again he wasn't there anymore - maybe it was a mirage- you missed him so much, despite everything, he meant so much for you, he understood you like no other and would always support you no matter what. You never thought your friendship or whatever existed between you would break over something so silly

It had been two weeks since that day. You already knew where you were going to study, in fact college wasn't too far away - 1 hour by car and 30minutes by train, which you could catch sometimes, even though you decided to stay in the dorms, only going back home from time to time. Everything was outlined. Among your hobbies, you had also gotten a part-time job at a cafe that allowed you to earn some money until you went to college. You would only start taking things in mid or late September to start classes in the beginning of October. You were excited - new place, new people - everything meant to be perfect - but you should know not everything goes as we would like and you would be proof of that very soon.

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September 2016

It was the last week before your classes started and you moved permanently. Together with your parents, you had already gone to visit the room where you'd be staying, taking some things there. Today was also your last day at work, so to celebrate you, Rosé, Tae and some of your co-workers: Jade, Leigh and Jackson went out for dinner, followed by a movie session of the latest horror film that had come out: M3gan 2.0. You were excited and at the same time nervous and nostalgic. You had never left the protective wings of your parents, or even gone to a place where you didn't know anyone. Within a week you were on your own and it was making you anxious, even though you know it's part of the moving process.

You had just finished dinner at McDonald's and were about to buy tickets for the 9 p.m. session, but you needed to go to the bathroom first, which happened to be in the same hallway as the cinema entrance, telling Rosé to buy your ticket while you were there. Two minutes later you were done, washed your hands, checked your makeup and headed towards your friends, when suddenly you felt your phone vibrate inside your bag and you looked down at it, trying to find it. It was only seconds, but that was all it took for you to go against someone

"God I'm sorry. I was distracted and didn't see - " Words failed you as you looked up and saw a face you were all too familiar with. In front of you was Jungkook, with the same bambi eyes and the same piercing in the corner of his mouth, but more robust, even more tattooed and sexy as fuck. After your birthday in July, you never spoke again, you only knew he was now working full time at the tattoo shop and how he'd go out with Tae from time to time, but nothing more- you wouldn't ask and Rosé wouldn't tell you either.

You avoided to know about him or see something on his social media because it hurt how casual he moved on like you didn't matter when you were still stuck on that moment. Every time you thought about those words, the cold look, the lack of interest he had in at least admitting he fucked up, cut you in thin layers 'til this day. Maybe if you guys had spoken, today you could remain friends and put that mistake behind you.

Jungkook's face was tense at the sight of you, pale. You could see he wasn't expecting to see you there and didn't know how to react at your presence. The atmosphere was so heavy you just wanted to disappear from there, so you adjusted your bag, bowed and were ready to move until you heard his voice. It was just then that you noticed yourself holding back tears. "I'm sorry". You were confused and he could tell by your face. You took a deep breath.

"You don't need to apologize, I was the one who accidentally bumped against you." He just looked at you. He didn't know how to respond, there was no way, he knew he had fucked up with those ignorant words that only came out because he was angry, he knew he shouldn't have let you go without making the effort to talk to you, but he didn't have balls to do it, he was rude and used arguments he knew would hurt you and he felt so guilty and ashamed he didn't know how to face you after. When he woke up the next morning he realized the shit he had done, yet it was too late and he was too selfish to take the first step. In his head he'd be fine, you were just someone who had crossed his path and he let go.

Until it wasn't fine... at all

He found himself writing to you a million times and deleting after, every day he'd look over your social media to see what were you up to and every day he'd run past your house, telling himself that it was just a short road to his house, deep down using it as an excuse to see if he would cross paths with you. He would ask Tae about you, however he never gave much away, their friendship was also shaky after the way he used his and Rosé's names to unfairly attack you created some distance and only recently things have started to feel normal again. Now, seeing you in front of him, so beautiful, yet so broken was grinding him inside because he knew he was the one who had taken away the shine you once radiated. He had to say something

"I already know that you managed to get where you wanted. Congratulations Y/n, I'm glad you got what you wanted from the beggining."

"Thank you" you turned your head to look for some of your friends and coming face to face with Jackson waiting for you. "I have to go, I have people waiting for me." when you were ready to return to your group you felt Jungkook's hand on your wrist.

"I know I'm the last person you want to see in front of you and I know it's too late and you probably hate me. Not that it's much help, but I want you to know that I also hate myself for that day. Besides losing someone very important to me I also ruined a special day for you and I'm sorry Y/n, for everything." you felt your face getting wet and with your sleeve you wiped the tears rolling down your cheeks. "

Not that it changes anything but thank you for this, I really appreciate those words." You couldn't say anything else, so you mumbled a "Sorry, I really have to go" and quickened your pace. Today was supposed to be a day where your only concern was to have fun, not end the night crying. At another time you knew Jungkook would be your support. In another time you knew your last days in the city would be with him, but on this very moment you only felt sadness invading your entire being because it wasn't possible. Damn, you just wanted to be in his comfort, between his arms and his warmth, he was the person who made you feel the safest and now you were completely unprotected. You missed him but right now there was no way you could reconnect with each other and maybe that was the best

For now

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October 3rd 2016

First day of school and you were a nervous wreck. A much bigger school than you were used to, with so many different things. You were trying to find the first classroom when a girl bumped into you, someone a little taller than you, light brown hair that almost reached her butt, hazel brown eyes.

"Hello- Hi- sorry, didn't see where I was going." She looked nervous, just like you.

"Hi, it's okay, it happens. First day?"

"Yes and to make it better I don't know anyone or know how and where to find the classroom and I'm going to be late. Did you see how big this is? It's easy to get lost here." You both laughed.

"I know what you're saying. I got into Education - my goal is to be a kindergarden teacher, yours?"

"Oh my God same! does that mean we're in the same class? I'm Alexa by the way."

"Y/n, nice to meet you. So let's go find this classroom or what?"

Alexa was very nice and committed, as well as calm. During the day you also met two more girls: Ivy and Jess. Both Alexa and Jess lived in the city, but you and Ivy, since you were from far away, had rooms close to college and the best thing was that you both actually stayed in the same dorm. That day, when you spoke to your mother and told her you had made new friends and that one of them was luckily your roommate you noticed the calmness in her voice. By the end of the week you already knew college inside out, as well as the buses and trains you had to take.

It didn't take long until Friday arrived and you were waiting for the bus near your dorm. You were going back home to see your parents, since they almost made you promise you would go home at least two or three times a month. When the bus arrived, you chose a seat and put on your headphones to drown out the noise around you until you caught yourself looking at a boy who in turn was already looking at you. You smiled and looked away embarrassed. About five minutes later you felt a tap on your shoulder

"Excuse me, can I sit here?" A blond guy with honey color eyes and a perfect smile planted in his face said. He wasn't very tall, around 1.70m but damn was he attractive. Since you couldn't formulate a verbal response, you just nodded and he smiled and sat down next to you. At first he didn't say anything, but then he started talking to you about college life and how difficult it could be. You found out he had been here for a year, but had switch majors to Economics, so he was repeating his first year again although he had already completed some subjects due to his previous major. The conversation between you was so interesting that before you knew it, you had arrived at the train station.

You thought you wouldn't see him again so soon, but you were surprised to see him get on the same train: curiously, you discovered you lived in neighboring towns, ten minutes apart by car. During your conversation, he seemed interesting and humble and above all, he was going through a complicated process since he had just lost his grandmother a week ago. You had never experienced the pain of such a loss, so you sympathized with his pain, just imagining losing someone so close to you gave you chills. He left before you, so before he got to his stop he asked for your social media and added each other. In your opinion it was still too early for you to give him your number and you didn't even know if you would see him again, but the truth is that you were curious about him.

When you got home, there was a message from him on Facebook and then you started talking every day. At first, you didn't mention it to your mother or Rosé, but both of them noticed your phone wouldn't stop vibrating and you ended up confessing you were meeting someone. Your mother was shocked, but Rosé was a little apprehensive.

"I thought you would be happy to see me talking to someone of the opposite sex" you said jokingly. She sighed.

"And I am, baby. I guess deep down I thought you and Jungkook would turn things around and get over what happened before and get close again. You were perfect together." Since that little encounter a month ago, you haven't seen or spoken to him again. Of course at first you compared Jungkook to Peter, they were the opposite of each other and you missed Jungkook's craziness, but it was time to move on.

"Ohh c'mon Rosé, it was never like that and you know it. We got along so well because I was the only one who could resist his charms from the very beginning. I knew everything about him, the good and the dirt, the girlfriends, conquests, flings, you name it. It never went beyond that, don't be silly." She scoffed

"Ohh Y/n please, you're the idiot one, that guy almost got boners every time you'd walk by. He'd look at you and his eyes would literally lit up, whenever you'd speak he'd be the most attentive one, even if it was the dumbest shit ever! That's why Tae and I were so sure something would happen between you two. I know he felt something for you and it wasn't just friendship."

"If he felt something then why didn't he ever say anything? Why was he always with a different girl? Why did he say he just wanted to enjoy life without thinking about serious relationships? I think you two are the ones who traveled too far and saw things where they didn't exist."

"Because both you and him are stubborn as hell and he knew about your goals and that you were leaving soon or maybe out of fear just like you. It may not seem like it Y/n, but he's more serious than you think and he's very intense. It saddens me that's all, I think you would make a wonderful couple." You didn't say anything else. First you didn't know what to say and second you weren't interested, not anymore.

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November 2016

You and Peter talked every day and ironically you ended up seeing each other every day either on the bus or when he'd go see you when you finished classes or vice versa. At this point you had already exchanged numbers and were officially dating, life was going well and you were finally starting to be happy again, but nothing lasts forever and what was one of your biggest fears would come true way too soon.

Classes were starting to take a heavy toll on you: lots of work for more than 10 different subjects, group and individual projects and and you were getting into a nervous spiral, time seemed to be running out. It was wednesday, around 7 p.m and you were so envolved on your homework about child development that it took you a while to notice someone was calling you. Looking over to your phone you saw a call from your dad.

"Hey dad, what's up?" It was rare for him tocall you; it was usually your mother.

"Hey honey, how are you?" He had an apprehensive tone.

"I'm fine but you don't seem so well dad, what's going on?" He avoided answering at first and you stopped what you were doing and started walking around the room.

"Baby we need to talk. First of all I want you to try and stay calm, okay? It's about your mother…" The rest of his words were whispers, everything became a blur and before you knew it, you were packing a small bag and heading to the bus stop as fast as you could. From what you could gather from your father's words, your mother wasn't feeling well and started throwing up a lot. At first, they thought it was indigestion, but then she started to feel strong back pain and had difficulty breathing and keeping her balance and he took her to the hospital at her request. She was someone who hated the smell of hospitals so for her to ask to go there was already a red flag.

While you waited to reach your destination, you sent a quick text to Peter saying your mother had felt unwell and you had to leave in a hurry to be close to your dad. A journey that took 30 minutes was taking ages and you could only imagine the worst case scenarios. When you arrived at the station, you took the first taxi you saw and went straight to the hospital where you found your father sitting with his head in his hands.

"Dad- dad, how is mom? Have they said anything? I'm here now, sorry it took so long."

"Your mother is doing tests, I don't know anything yet, baby. Don't apologize, everything will be fine, let's try to stay calm." And you waited for minutes, hours, you couldn't even tell the difference anymore.

11:13 pm

Neither you nor your father had eaten and the pain of not knowing anything was killing you. Suddenly you saw a nurse walking towards you and stood up.

"Marie Evans' family?"

"Yes it's us."

"We've just finished all the tests and have confirmed the diagnosis. Mrs. Evans has advanced pancreatitis and is currently on medication. We're waiting for her condition to improve so we can transfer her to a better ward. You can come with me, give her a kiss and collect her belongings, please." You were the first entering the room where your mother was. She had all kinds of devices connected to her: both inside and out, you had never seen anything like it and immediately started crying.

"Please don't cry baby, it's okay, I'll be fine. I want you to remain calm and never give up on your goals. It's late my love, go home with your father, get some rest and don't forget you have classes tomorrow. I love you very much, you're my dream come true. Both you and your father are my life and I'll always take care of you." Her words were weak and you could see the effort she was making to say them.

You kissed her forehead and told her you loved her. Your father came in shortly after and you said goodbye to her along with her belongings: cell phone, glasses and wedding ring. All of this is the sum total of a human being and the memories they carry. They kept your number in case there was any change in her condition. That night you slept in your father's bed, you couldn't go to your room alone, needless to say you didn't sleep at all that night.

8 a.m and your father called the hospital to find out about your mother's condition and they told him everything was normal. After these words you were able to rest a little until you woke up to the sound of your phone ringing and the number of the hospital you had saved earlier.

10 a.m and you got the worst news. Your mother wasn't responding to the treatment and her organs were failing and if you wanted to say goodbye to her you had to go there immediately, because they didn't know how long she would be able to resist. The world fell apart and everything went numb.

10:45a.m you and you dad were at the hospita. You had dark circles under your eyes and you still hadn't stopped crying while your father tried to stay calm. You arrived at the hospital and the first thing you did was to go to the reception to find something out. Apparently she had been transferred to the ICU and a nurse was coming to guide you. The way there was dark and morbid, you had never felt this emptiness and cold inside you before.

11:22 a.m. a nurse came to you again and looked at you with such sad eyes that she approached you with a glass of water.

"Do you want to go in and say goodbye to her one last time?" You said yes and put on those protective suits, gloves and masks. When you got to her side, you couldn't take it anymore and fell on your knees next to her bed, crying desperately.

"I can't, please get me out of here, I can't." she was pale and cold, breathing with the help of a ventilator that would soon stop working. It wasn't her anymore, it was just a body. The nurse helped you out while your father stayed there a little longer. The last thing you remember was fainting in the nurse's arms.

12:08 p.m - after regaining consciousness, your father took you out to get some air and the two of you sat on a bench.

"We have to eat something, sweetheart."

"I know, dad."

"Shall we go?" You shook your head, but neither of you moved to the cafeteria, but instead to the waiting room where a doctor came to you minutes later.

"I'm sorry to inform you, but her condition is deteriorating significantly. We can't guarantee how long it will take: it could be hours or it could be a matter of minutes. I'm so sorry."

1.45 p.m and you were still waiting sitting on those sad and lifeless blue chairs. As much as you could, you informed your closest family so that they could be prepared for anything. You were so young, but with such a huge responsibility you wondered how long you'd be albe to hold on. The same nurse who helped you a few hours ago came back to you.

"Do you want to try going in one more time?" You nodded and went back in with your father. This was the last time you were going to see your mother, you had to say goodbye somehow, no matter how much it would cost you. You approached her and took her cold hand. "I know you've been waiting to go, mom. I'm sorry for keeping you locked up here. I know you did everything you could and that you'll always keep an eye out for us. You can go, mom, we'll be fine. Go in peace, just don't forget that I love you very much and I'm sorry I couldn't save you."

2.30 p.m and the doctor responsable for your mother called you and your father into a private room, telling you to sit down. You understood everything. As soon as he said, "I'm sorry," you lowered your head to cry. "We don't understand what happened or why she stopped responding to treatment, but her condition was always very delicate. She never stabilized normally and had very intense peaks. As nurse Adams explained, the situation got worse in the early hours of the morning and to avoid even more suffering we had to put her into a coma." He spoke, but you didn't understand anything.

You were empty inside. You didn't even remember leaving the hospital, all you knew was when you left those diabolical doors, Peter, Rosé, Tae and Jungkook were waiting for you, with tears on their faces. You didn't think much and ran out: not to your best friend, nor to your boyfriend, but to the person who hurt you a while ago: Jungkook: he was the one you needed right now. Jungkook hugged you so tightly that luckily you didn't lose your breath. You cried against his chest and he cried silently for you, affirming that everything was going to be okay and from that moment on nothing would take you both apart.

Two weeks have passed

It's been two long weeks since you lost your mother and you just went back to college. Between organizing the funeral and managing to stay on your feet, at the same time being the only pillar of support for your father who was also trying to cope with the pain of an unexpected loss.

After the funeral, you isolated yourself more at home, trying to find a way to move on. You've been receiving texts from your friends giving you strength, although they're giving you the space they know you need. This whole situation has helped you and Jungkook to end up getting a little closer too, he'd show up at your door with food or suplies Rosé would tell him you needed and he'd buy. Other times he'd cook for you and make you company while your dad had to go work.

You and Jungkook agreed to put things behind and be friends, but never went back to the way they were before, plus now you were with Peter and he was also getting to know someone who frequented his tattoo store often. It's a good thing you moved on, because he did too. You both moved on and learnt from past mistakes and you were just grateful for having him in your life again, slowly going back to normal.

Now about Peter, he has been with you and supporting you a lot too. The fact he also went through the loss of his grandmother not long ago made him more familiar with all these new feelings on your side, making it easier to talk to him. On one occasion, you even told him you weren't going to do anything to end your life, but if it happened you wouldn't care. You still couldn't accept you had lost the person who gave you affection and comfort even if the world was against you. On top of that, you stayed with your father who, like you, was in pieces and dealing with college, paper works and internships was driving you crazy.

A few months passed and you were now in June and almost done with the last semester of your first year of college. On one hand, you felt time had passed quickly, but on the other, you felt that it hadn't passed quickly enough. Your relationship with Peter continued to go well, as did your friendship with Rosé and Tae. As for Jungkook, even though you were on good terms it was never the same as before and as time passed you'd only speak from time to time.

When you returned home you made a point of meeting them all. On one of those meetings, you took Peter with you and to your surprise, when you got close to your friends, Jungkook was also there with his girlfriend- Yes it was official- In one of your visits you heard Tae say Jungkook had made his relationship with Sophia official. At first, you thought it would be like the other times, but when Tae mentioned they had been seeing each other for months, you kept quiet. She had managed to change Jungkook's mind in a matter of months. Now seeing her in person you couldn't deny how gorgeous she was: brunette, tall, honey brown eyes with some tattoos on her body, older than him and richer, a deadly combination. Both attractive and perfect for each other. You already noticed Jungkook has a type since all the girls you saw him with had the same features.

How ironic

It was awkward at first and you thanked the heavens that Peter wasn't shy like you. He was outgoing and talkative, always had something to talk about and when he didn't he would invent something. Sophia was also chatty and seemed like a good girl deep down. When she wasn't talking, she was snuggled up to Jungkook and sometimes you noticed her eyes darting between you and Jungkook. You just smiled.

She smiled back.

Nothing lasts forever

What you thought was the best thing that ever happened to you turned into a huge nightmare. You were currently on vacation and wouldn't be back to college until October. You had been with Peter for 9 months now and although everything was perfect at first, you were now starting to have second thoughts. A while ago, you noticed his behavior changing and you met a more controlling, manipulative and demanding Peter. You were constantly receiving texts from him asking what were you doing and where you were and if you didn't answer within 5 minutes, he'd flip. When you were studying for your final exams back in May/ June, you weren't paying so much attention to your phone and your father or roomate would show up next to you with his phone in his hand saying Peter was on the other line to talk to you. Of course, this always led to a lot of arguments.

You hated the fact he thought you had to be there for him the entire time. Then he started to pick on you what you wore: either because it was too short and showed off your curves or because it was too colorful and caught others attention. And finally he got to the point where he also started to get mad when you were out with Rosé and Tae. They didn't like him that much and when these situations started to happen, they hated him even more. Your father had also told you he wasn't the man for you. Yes, your own father thought he was childish and stupid and only accepted him because it was your choice. Embarassing how he saw it before you.

He just didn't pick on Jungkook because he didn't know you two used to be that close hence you'd never mention him before, although that had started to change recently. Truth be told, your mother's death had served as a tool for you and Jungkook to get closer again. It had started with small texts here and there asking if you were okay and how you were managing all of it. Little by little you started hanging out with the group again and although it was weird at first, little by little it started to feel like the old days. Until this one day when you had gone to Target to buy some things and in the same aisle you saw Jungkook. At first he didn't see you, but when he looked up he recognized you and came over to you, talked for a while and when you were about to say goodbye he invited you for a coffee. You were embarrassed to admit time with Jungkook had passed so quickly and you didn't even noticed it, something you didn't feel with Peter, whenever you were with him you wanted to leave.

From that day on, you and Jungkook had started hanging out and talking more. He said his girlfriend didn't care and wasn't jealous, that she also went out with her friends. On the other hand, you hid these little hang outs with Jungkook from Peter because you knew it would cause unnecessary mess. You often confided in Jungkook about your relationship, that it wasn't working out and you didn't know how to get out of it, because he had helped you so much and you were feeling ungrateful for even thinking about ending it.

Peter was also your first, even though he was an idiot about it. You were honest with him about everything related to sex and he always respected you on that. One day you were at his house and were making out and things were evolving very quickly until he stopped and suggested for you to go to the bathtub. When you asked him why, he simply replied "Since it's your first time, you're going to bleed and to avoid dirtying the sheets it's better to go to the bathtub, because it's easier to clean"

When you heard that, you instantly lost your excitement and felt ridiculous. You slapped him so hard your hand left a mark on his face, and left. Stupidly, you ended up forgiving him a couple weeks later, after a lot of work on his part. A short time later, he prepared a romantic dinner and that's when you lost your virginity, however, it wasn't what you expected at all- he was insensitive and rough. He taught you how to suck his dick but didn't want to eat you out because it was "disgusting." He didn't wait until you were wet enough to start the act, which ended up hurting you terribly. It lasted 2 minutes and then he got dressed and went out for a smoke. You swore to yourself if sex was always like this, you'd never want to have it again.

It was the first and last time you did it

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September 1st, 2017

It was Jungkook's birthday and your group of friends had planned to go out. You and Peter were going through (another) rough time so you didn't even invite him. You had planned to go to St. Pierre, a nearby restaurant with affordable prices and excellent food. You, Rosé and Tae were already there when Jungkook arrived with Sophia, holding hands and smiling. Every now and then you forgot that he was a committed guy. They greeted everyone and sat next to each other. My goodness, they were really perfect together, you could tell there was stability in their relationship by the way they acted, the way they spoke and you felt sad for a moment. Damn, you had been through so much and you hadn't even had any luck in love. You got so lost in your thoughts that you only realized it when you felt a light kick and realized it was Jungkook calling your attention, with a worried look while the others remained excited in their conversation. You smiled at him and nodded to assure him you were fine.

After dinner, you went to a bar. Although you were enjoying the atmosphere, you couldn't help but feel a little out of place. Everyone was in couples and happy while you were alone, feeling like you didn't belong. Everyone was dancing and you informed Rosé you were going for a drink, ordered something and went to get some air on the terrace. You picked up your phone and found a ton of texts from Peter - you didn't reply to any of them.

"Is everything okay?" You were surprised to see Jungkook next to you, also with a drink in his hand.

"You scared me Jk" you laughed "Yes, everything's fine, it was very hot inside and the night is amazing so I came here for a bit" He leaned on the railing and rested his arms on it

"You're acting weird. As much as you want to hide it I know you pretty well, I know when something isn't right. Is it Peter?" You sighed and imitated his position.

"That too. I'm tired and I don't even know why. I see everyone around me having fun, living life and being truly happy and I wonder what I did wrong to not be able to enjoy things without feeling bad or guilty for just living. Fuck, look at me. A place full of couples and here I am alone because my boyfriend only does shit and we are more often mad at each other than we are actually happy." You hadn't realized, but the distance between your body and his had gotten smaller. How? No idea. He had turned around and was now leaning his back against the railing, his arms still resting on it, looking at you.

"Sometimes things aren't as they seem. People are actors and those around them only see what they want them to see. I know this first hand" You were going to ask what he meant by that, but stopped when you felt his hand on your shoulder "Break up with him Y/n. If he doesn't make you happy, if he doesn't do you any good leave him. You deserve much more than living with someone who is always criticizing and hurting you."

"Jungkook I..." you couldn't finish your sentence because behind you you heard a throat rumbling and that's when you remembered: Sophia. You quickly turned around to see a confused Rosé.

"You were taking too long so I came to see if everything was okay. Jungkook, Sophia was looking for you, she just went to the bathroom to touch up her makeup." Jungkook nodded and without saying anything looked at you, then at Rosé and went inside. Few seconds later she spoke

"What are you doing peanut? He's dating! As unhappy as you are, don't involve other people. It took a lot for Jungkook to finally meet someone decent and Sophia is actually a good girl and is good for him. Don't ruin your friendship like last time, please."

"Are you crazy? Rosé, you know I'd never do anything to hurt him, who do you think I am? What a shitty thing to say" however you knew what she meant and you couldn't get mad at her because deep down she said what you really felt: Jungkook made you nervous and confused and when you were with him you couldn't help but feel special, to the point to forget he had a girlfriend, a serious relationship and you had someone too, even if it's bad. Sophia was good to Jungkook, they were great together and everyone noticed, even you. That doesn't mean you didn't feel a pang of jealousy: everything you wanted was there, but far far away from you.

You had reached your limit

Once again you and Peter were having a huge argument, this time because you were wearing shorts and a black shirt that were a little too tight for your body. Your father always told you were better than that and you knew he was right and it was time to do something to change that.

There were two weeks left until you started your second year of college and you decided to take advantage of this time with your father and go visit your grandparents. For Peter, it was a tragedy you hadn't taken him and even more so when you refused to go on vacation with him to visit your family. In the end, you were just gaining a little more courage to end things. After Jungkook's birthday, you had met up one more time, two days later at the usual place. All your friends were there and you ended up mentioning that since it was almost time for you to return to college life, you were going to enjoy the rest of your time in your grandparents house. Everyone said they were going to miss you but Jungkook asked how long you were going to be away. Rosé and Tae tried to change the subject as they noticed Sophia's gaze on him and then on you. It was a simple question, but it created some tension there. You didn't see fury in her eyes nor could you grasp what kind of feelings that look conveyed.

You were the first to leave, insisting you still had things to pack and organize before leaving and you hugged them all one by one. When it was Jungkook's turn you smiled, there was no need to say anything. He also hugged you tightly, caressing the back of your head and thanked you for being part of his life again. Finally it was Sophia's turn and she had half smile on her lips and opened her arms to say goodbye. You approached her "Thank you for taking care of Jungkook and for doing so much for him" she looked at you with a smile and hugged you even tighter.

She really was a good vibe and if he was happy then so were you

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It's been 3 days since you got to you grandparents house and you felt like home. In here you felt a huge presence of your mom lingering around. Your first night there you cried with your grandmother, you could have lost a mother but she lost a daughter and it was being infernal for everyone. One thing you noticed about grief was that it felt like a rollercoaster: You could be fine for days, maybe weeks and then one day you'd wake up and couldn't get out of bed. It also helped define your relationship with Peter. You weren't happy and he was becoming increasingly toxic, so you decided to put an end to the relationship. You thought you would feel bad, but you discovered in the end the only feeling you felt was relief. Although you know he will ask you for another chance and will run into you at college, things will work out better this way, at least for you.

It was the third night and you received a text from Jungkook asking how were you and you still hadn't answered. As time went by, you began to realize Jungkook didn't belong in your past and seeing him with Sophia broke your heart little by little and although you were happy that he was okay, you knew this whole situation was partly your fault. If you hadn't been a coward and run away that night, maybe the girl in his arms right now would be you and not her. You were in the middle of whether to answer or not when you moved your finger and it accidentally clicked the call button. You mentally facepalmed yourself and were about to hang up when he answered. Fuck

"H- hi. I'm sorry I didn't mean to call."

"Ohh" silence "It's okay, I'm glad you did though, how are you?" You did pause on that question. You weren't okay at all, but you didn't want to be talking about it with him.

"I'm fine I guess. You?" you heard a dry laugh on the other side

"You're a terrible liar smarty pants, you know that right?" You mentally hit yourself "you can be honest with me, I've told you that so many times. You don't have to pretend with me"

"I'm trying to be okay but it takes time you know. I love being here with my grandparents and my dad, yet I have too many memories of my mom and it's drowning me. That and… well, I broke up with Peter" you heard a throat clearing.

"Did- did you really break up? Did he do something to you?"

"Yes, we broke up. There was no way back, the way he sees life and the way I see it are completely different. Besides, he was becoming more and more possessive and manipulative and I wasn't well anymore. I let myself be out of convenience maybe. Stupid, I know, but I felt alone and he understood how I felt about the loss of my mother and… I don't know- I think it was more because of that, because deep down I always knew we had no future together."

"We need to do a lot of shit to finally see what we have in front of us and find the right person"

"You're speaking for yourself aren't you? for someone who didn't want any kind of serious connection to anybody, you and Sophia are getting along really well." a brief pause "I'm really happy for you guys, everyone can tell you're happy and I have to thank her. Somehow she managed to change something in you, that's a huge deal already. I'm glad you found someone who motivate you to take risks and settle down." There was a brief silence until Jungkook said

"Yes, I think so. There are people who come into our lives to show us something, right?"

"Exactly. Like me and Peter," you laughed, "he definitely came into my life to show me that bad things never come alone. That and the fact now I'm even more sure of what I don't want in my life. Anyway, sorry to bother you so late at night, it really was an accident and I don't want to interfere in your life, it's better to hang up before Sophie gets upset."

"She won't, don't worry. Besides, I'm glad you called. Enjoy your time at your grandparents' and don't forget to give signs of life from time to time in your busy student life." You said goodbye and hung up the phone. It was in those moments you realized how much you missed Jungkook, because only he knew the right way to calm you down and cheer you up. Even if you don't want to admit it, you envy Sophia. She was able to change his view on relationships and you end up imagining what could have happened if you had been the one to give him that opportunity. Back then you were still very childish and had a lot to live and learn in life and Jungkook had a lot of growth to do too, even though there's always that "what if" question thing. "What if things were different?" Now Jungkook already had his other half

And how sad you felt about that

Taglist: @fangirl9990 @httpsmei @petroogorodnik @diptylkrtk @beattiestreet @troublemaker02 @magicalnachocreator @littleflowerpond @bhonbhon @smoljimjim @leftcolorcreation @whoa-jo

[andcars]

FOGGY LENS ━━ DR3

﹙ 3 ﹚ ─────── we're making bad movies

money problems lead you to being casted in a bad softcore porn movie. the director is hot though, which is a pro

relationship(s) director!daniel ricciardo/you tags porn with plot, age gap, dominant daniel ricciardo, sex fantasies as dirty talk, praise kink, unprotected sex, cunnilingus wc 2.1k

MASTERLIST ⠀REQUEST ME ⠀ TAGLIST⠀ PATREON GUIDE

radio "comments and reblogs are much appreciated!" i wanted to write a fic like this so long since i watched this ted nivison video on halloween movies. one of them was literally just some homoerotic porno named 666: teen warlock. holy fuck. the entire director's imdb was just porn. i wanted to make daniel that kind of pervert (and to makeup for my last daniel softcore porn fic.. woops)

▶︎ ❝ knock me out ❞ miyavi, mikky ekko

WHEN YOU FIRST SAW THE SCRIPT, YOU DIDN'T THINK MUCH OF IT. It sounded like a classic B-tier movie, something almost homemade. Maybe the budget of a thousand dollars or so—you're not quite sure how much money goes into filming shit like this.  What is obvious though, after getting the full script, was that you felt like a pornstar. 

The little booklet is in your hands as you exit the Uber. The location site is in a large mansion, most likely rented. You plan on storming inside, slapping the director on the face, and doing some scenes just to get the pay. One of the scenes require you to be mind controlled by the villain who has some crush on you, for fuck's sake. This is fetish softcore porn with witches and wizards. 

You ring the doorbell endlessly, clicking it relentlessly.

It opens a moment later. "Yes?" 

Shit. Is he an actor? 

The man who opened the door was a tall man, way older than you, and exactly your type. His brown curls sat atop his head, just hiding underneath his cap. You almost pity the man. How does a man who could pass off as a supermodel end up acting with a script like this?

You gather yourself together before you are simply in awe at him, "Uh—is this the filming for… Teen Warlock?" 

"Yes, yes.” He opens the door wider, "You must be the actor for Candy." 

Yeah, your dumbass character's name is Candy. You're not surprised if her last name was Lustlove or something stupid. 

"Yeah, are you an actor?" 

He laughs, stepping aside, “Come in. I'll be the one directing you." 

This man is the pervert? 

"I'm really happy you took on the role," he says, leading you from hallway to hallway. "When I saw your audition, I thought that you were the perfect girl for the job." You think that there was no one else who even auditioned for this character; maybe someone did, then ran for the hills after reading the full script. 

One of the bedrooms became a makeshift changing room. He says, "Let's get you started, hm?"

Despite the awkward script, awkward acting, and just the overall vibes with the other actors, Daniel—the director's name—was nice. He was the kind of nice that didn't feel like there was an ulterior motive. You're now asking if he was the one who wrote the script. No way this sweet man is the pervert with a kink for mind controlling women? That just didn't feel right. 

"Hey, Ms. Candy," he greets you on your second week of filming. The other actors are dressing—since all of them were told not to wear shirts, of course—and staying away from the scene.

You stayed because he was approaching you. "Hi, Mr. Director." Daniel laughs at your response, handing you a cold water bottle. 

"Did a great job today. I know it was a bit difficult with the script change, but uh, we had to adjust with our given budget."

The movie isn't being made with millions of dollars, everyone knows that. "It's fine. I'm sure you had trouble having to rewrite the scene"

He looks at you like you've grown two other heads. " Oh, I don't write it. I'm following the script like you guys."

"Oh." Does that make you feel better? "So, I guess you're just gonna direct this softcore porn movie?"

Daniel laughs like you've told him the funniest joke. It's surprising how he didn't lash out on you simply calling his movie a porno. " Well, " he starts instead," I'll tell you tomorrow what I really should be doing on set."

Well, that's fucking worrying. 

When you came in the next day, Daniel was late. That's bad because no one can start without him. It's reminding you of what he said yesterday—was he just telling you that just to ditch all of you? You haven't even been fully fucking paid. Holy fuck. 

Before you can arrive, Daniel comes through the entranceway. He's towing someone else behind him. "Oh, hey Ms Candy," he smiles, "sorry I was late, got held up in traffic getting my friend. Say hi to—" you smile at him and shake his hands. 

He separates from him and you're following him to the setting, "So," you say, "what do you really do?" 

Daniel hums like he doesn't know what you're talking about. You roll your eyes as he just enters the actors' dressing room. "Come on, what's with the anticipation? Are you gonna tell me you don't direct movies, you direct art—oh my God!" 

You don't expect Daniel to just undress in front of you. Turning around, you hear him chuckle behind you. " It's okay. You've seen the other actors pretty naked anyway. "

" I—no... It's not the same." You wonder if Daniel is out of his mind right now; that, or he's going to fuck you. " What are you doing? "

"I’m dressing for my role,” his fucking what? "You can turn around now."

When you look at him again, he's wearing a white polo and a red satin robe. He's holding something in his hands that you assume to be a small rhino's horn. "One more thing," he looks into the mirror and attaches the little thing on his forehead, "and I'm done." 

"You're an actor?"

"Yeah. I've just been covering for my friend to direct. I'm the big evil villain," he laughs. 

"Looking like that, I don't think anyone would mistake you as anything else," you joke. Daniel smiles at you like he doesn’t know you want him to bend you over looking like that; minus the horn thing. You drown the thoughts, “Jeez. I thought you were the one who wrote the script." 

He raises an eyebrow, leaning against the clothing rack, “Why? Any judgment?" 

Judgment is almost an underwhelming word for what you feel about it. You shrug, “It’s… well, I think you know what it looks like.”

"I don't know,” he looks at you with a slight pout, "I think it's perfectly normal for all of our actors to be half nude and you in a bimbo get-up half the time.”

Both of you laugh. You see how Daniel’s eyes go to the door behind you and back to you again. “We won't be filming for another hour or so," he tells you, "You think you're ready for your next scene?”

His tone and grin reveal his true intention. You're not one to waste an opportunity. So you ask, “Gonna direct the scene or act in it with me?" 

Daniel is not subtle as he smiles, “I think I can practice both." 

You think only a minute passes when Daniel is between your legs. Thank him that the stupid horn is gone because if not, it would be poking against your clit as he eats you out. You're tugging on his curls as he thrusts his tongue in and out of you robotically. He thumbs at your clit, at a medium pace as he circles around it gently.

“Fuck, Daniel," you moan, toes curling and twitching as you feel yourself embarassingly close to orgasm. You can feel it building up inside of you. The feeling rises, and you're writhing against his mouth. He doesn't care as he pressed you down by the stomach with one hand. Trying to get you as still as possible, he eats you out like you're meant to be devoured.

Clenching down hard, you wrap your legs around his neck. “G-gonna cum," you whine, tears practically brimming in your eyes, “‘m gonna cum, gonna, gonna—!" 

Like a bad dream, Daniel pulls away. You're panting into nothing as your pussy pulses. He puts his thumb just on your clit and it feels so sensitive that you feel like you can cum just with his touch there. Daniel sees your reaction to him and only kisses your chest, the blouse torn open for his convenience.

“You look so pretty, Candy," he growls, the name falling off almost naturally in his mouth. “Tasted so sweet too, why didn't you ever tell me you taste as good as you look?" 

He sweet-talks you as he unbuckles his belt. The robe still hangs from his shoulders as he pulls his slacks down. You can see the bulge in his boxers and he doesn't hesitate to put your hand against it—”Feel that?" he moans, eyes staring directly at you—”Got me so fucking hard. Don't care how unprofessional it is, I was so turned on just watching you.

“Got off in the bathroom so much, you know?" He admits. “You wanna be subtle about it, but I know you're looking at me more than you want to. You wanna see what it feels like to act in a scene with me. You wanna see how I look without a shirt, telling you what to do, and watching you submit to my every whim. Doesn’t matter that I’m older than you, huh?” you moan in response, “you’re just begging for me to put a hand on you.”

To think that the man with the bright smile, the one you thought to be the least perverted, knows your every thought is crazy. It doesn't matter now. You pull him by the neck and tell him, “Fuck me," because shame is out of the window. “Fuck me, Daniel. Stop talking to me and just fuck me." 

You seem to be in great shape for a pep talk. Daniel grins at you, lopsided, a bit too innocent, and he pulls your legs up to his shoulders. He positions himself almost impatiently. You can't blame him; you’re more impatient than him. That, though, doesn't make you cry out less as he starts to push inches inside of you.

The stretch is great, but you’re nothing if not welcoming to it. Daniel has his eyebrows furrowed as he looks down to where the two of you meet. He's completely enamoured with the way your cunt is sucking him up, taking him more and more despite the slight pain in it. You're losing your mind with the way he intrudes inside of you and he’s just moaning how fucking wet you are.

He loosens you up with short thrusts. The shallow but quick movement has you whining. The bed creaks with every thrust, and you're getting lost in the rhythm. Sooner, he fucks deeper. His cock slides easier with your arousal and you open up to him like a flower. 

Daniel means into your ear, teeth grazing your skin, “Fucking hell," he groans, his accent thick, “you feel so good. Just like I thought. Wet and so fucking desperate.” You cry at a particularly hard thrust, his cock hitting your g-spot. His hand moves down back to fondle your clit, making your back arch.

“Are you close?" He asks, feeling you tighten. “I wanna see what you look like when you come. Wanna make sure it looks just as pretty as it does in my imagination." With his other hand, he pulls your face up. He forces eye contact with you as he pistons his hips deep into your cunt. You wanna look away from shame, but he doesn't allow you to. The man is relentless with his movement and he's not going to stop until he makes you cum.

The feeling comes back. The undeniable arousal that makes you tighten and your voice more difficult to quiet. “Daniel," you moan, locking eyes with him.

“Gonna cum?" he asks. You can't nod your head, but the moan you let out was guttural. “Good. Good girl. Cum for me, baby. Let me see how I fucking ruin you. No acting, no pretending. Let me see you raw, baby." 

You cry out as you convulse around him, your climax getting you to pulse around his cock as if you're milking him. He doesn't even stop his hips as he chases his own orgasm. You're getting overstimulated. In his tight grip, you're shaking in oversensitivity. Daniel continues on, whispering praises in exchange for ruining your cunt to soreness. When he was close, he pulls out and cums on your face.

Letting out a small ‘hng’, you close your eyes. He aims it mostly at your mouth, but he laughs when most of it gets to your cheek. “Too much?" he asks, unapologetic.

You look at him, one eye open, and tell him, "I have to do my makeup again now.” You're still out of breath and sweaty from just being fucked. "I don't really feel like filming anymore.”

Daniel laughs and kisses your dirty cheek—that pervert—”It’s okay. You don't need more makeup. Your face is still painted on anyway." 

You think you could die from less embarrassment in getting caught than hearing that.

@Delululeclerc @hiireadstuff @rtorresblog @Jamie2305 @nichmeddar @vannylen2144

[sweetebeaste]

〚 Fox/Ren Hana x Reader 〛

CW: blood, self-mutilation, attempted suicide, implied drugging, sad burnt pancakes 🥞 (RIP)

18+ MEDIA SOURCE MDNI

Thinking your captor isn't watching, you attempt the only form of escape you think you might be able to pull off...

__________________________________________

"Watch the pancakes."

You knew better than to stare at your captor as he exited the kitchen. The pancakes, he'd said. Watch the pancakes. Not him. But you couldn't help but peer at him out of the corner of your eye as he vanished down the hallway and out of sight, white-tipped tail flicking behind him before disappearing too.

For the first time in weeks, he'd left you alone in a room other than your own. No Kangaroo. No Rhino. No Fox. You held your breath, counting the pounding heartbeats that reverberated within your eardrums. One. Two. Three. Four................Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Still alone.

You needed to be quick.

Soundlessly darting across the kitchen, you almost ended up sprawled atop the counter in your nervous haste, your hands shaking violently as you reached for the knife block tucked into the corner. You drew the first knife whose handle your trembling, sweating fingers managers to wrap around. Not the most impressive of your options, but one that would still suffice. You only had a moment to allow the reality of what was in your hands to settle in.

"How disappointing."

Always moving in a true vulpine manner, you hadn't even heard him re-enter the kitchen behind you.

Fox. Your caretaker. Your captor. Pointed ears forward and alert, tail raised, his facial expression almost neutral.

Almost.

If this had been a test, so simply devised, you had failed.

White-knuckled grip around the knife's handle, you whirled to face him. Those sharp amber eyes, often so lightless, held the cold flare of something else this time. Anger? Rage? Betrayal? It didn't matter.

"Go ahead." He growled, his voice dangerously calm. His amber gaze affixed to yours, arms stretched wide as if he were anticipating some passionate embrace. He took a step forward. And then another.

He kept advancing, slowly. Instinct forced you backwards, but you had no place to retreat. Your spine pressed against the solid marble countertop behind you. Fox smiled sharply, the corners of his eyes crinkling, but holding no warmth.

He misunderstood your intentions, and in that, you gained the barest semblance of power. You raised the knife, its serrated edge glinting in the kitchen's light as the hungry beast in front of you tensed to attack. And then you swung downward, swiftly, fearlessly, making contact with your own flesh. Blood spurted from your forearm as you wrenched the blade downwards, towards your fingertips, warm red rivulets caressing your mutilated skin.

You didn't even have time to feel it.

Your knees buckled as Fox slammed into you, your head making harsh contact with the marble counter and the air forcing itself from your lungs before you crumpled beneath him, ears starting to ring and drown out what was left of your small world.

Dazed, you blinked your eyes,

Fox's expression now held a much different emotion than before. Was it...fear? You couldn't help but let a breathless giggle pass your lips as the world seemingly pitched to one side. How absurd. You should be the one afraid, yet instead you were giddily bleeding out on Fox's kitchen floor while the pancakes burned on the stove above you.

As your vision began to fade, the world around you went silent. You couldn't hear the sound of your name echoing in terror off the walls around you.

You prayed that some kinder hell awaited you.

.............................

You awoke as if under water. Sounds were muffled and your body was an anchor weighing you down. A deep chill had settled over your being. Your vision was blurred, though as your eyelids flickered open you could hardly tell, welcomed by the pitch black of a lightless room. You made an attempt to move a heavy limb, but found it was almost as if they were no longer attached. After a minute or two, or maybe ten, you couldn't be certain, you managed the smallest twitch of a finger. A reassurance that everything was still attached.

You let yourself inhale deeply, only for a whine to crawl through your throat as your bruised ribs protested sharply. Suddenly, there was movement right beside you.

As the lamp atop Fox's nightstand switched on with a soft clicking sound, and the familiar room around you was revealed, you realized fate had decided that hell would have been too kind for you.

"And so the sleeper awakens at last."

Fox's crooning voice spoke directly into your ear as he lay next to you. It was only now that you realized his tail had been wrapped around your waist, and his fingers around your wrist as he had rested in bed next to you, awaiting your return from the other side. You made an attempt at a response, you weren't sure exactly what, but found that your tongue felt almost as heavy as the rest of you. A useless iron weight laying dead in your mouth. The beastkin let out a short, barking laugh, before leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek.

"Shhhhhh." He hushed you. "There's no need to push yourself just yet. As a matter of fact, I've made sure that all you need to do is lay there and look pretty while your arm heals."

The grip on your wrist vanished as Fox shifted, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you impossibly close. You willed your body to move in any way, so long as it got you further from him, but not a single muscle responded. Frustrated tears began to well in your eyes. Fox reached up with a single clawed finger and carefully wiped them away.

"Don't worry sweetheart, I'm going to take such good care of you," he assured you, his voice sickeningly sweet. He tilted your face with his claws to make sure you were looking him in the eyes. Amber eyes, pupils dilated. "I'm never going to let you out of my sight again."

—

[seitmai]

Many thoughts

It was a western, conservative territory. Otherwise, there was an unspoken "don't ask, don't tell" etiquette among townsfolk. It wasn't too much of a burden to be queer, considering there was an out lesbian as the Deputy Sheriff. But that didn't mean Joy Hawk hadn't faced any hardships at all because of it.

Oh I can imagine..

There was nothing wrong with being queer. Rhett was taught to be respectful and kind, and that's what the Abbott family was all about. But if Rhett was queer? It was never a conversation. He was "too masculine, too much of a ladies' man" to be, so there were no concerns there.

This is hard, like yes being respectful and kind to everyone but if its "one of us" its different but I know this is very often true...

But that was years ago. Now, you had a much deeper connection, one that was more unconventional than anything. Don't take this the wrong way, it was beautiful. But it also wasn't comprehensible. It reached places farther than just friendship, yet it didn't quite meet the criteria for a real, romantic relationship either.

No matter what it is ir what label to put on, it sounds beautiful 🥹

There was one thing for certain, however. Rhett Abbott simply couldn't be with you. It was well known—rather, well assumed—that he was straight.

💔💔💔

So he didn't question this very moment; his head on your lap as you stroke his brown locks. Apparently, Rhett got into serious trouble. He wasn't specific about it as he blabbered to you in a panic, but he also knew you weren't the kind to pry. You would just do things for him without asking.

Truly a deep and important bond

He knew he shouldn't feel anything for you. He knew it wasn't right, to fall for his close friend. He knew it wasn't right to fall for someone like you.

Urgh this just breaks my heart 💔

"Yeah, well," you scoff softly, "you should know by now that I'm used to your troublemaking tendencies."

Fair

Rhett sat up, untangling from your arms. He was beside you on the couch, searching your eyes with a hint of desperation. He needed to be close to you. He felt like a magnet. It felt like you were falling—an excruciatingly slow fall towards him. You weren't sure what came over you, because your face moved closer and closer to his until your lips touched. He kissed back. You were kissing Rhett. And Rhett was kissing back.

🥹🥹🥹

It's always been deemed so wrong, but it felt so right. He wasn't supposed to kiss a platonic friend. He wasn't supposed to kiss someone who wasn't a woman. He wasn't supposed to kiss you. No matter how much his body seemed to crave it.

How can it be wrong if it feels so right? 🥺

Women were his forte, and that was the end of it. From childish crushes on girls in grade school, to hopeless yearning for Maria Olivares in high school, he's always liked women. And sure, his cowboy peers may have looked fairly attractive to him. And maybe that librarian always seemed to have a pretty smile on their face. But it didn't mean anything. There was no way it could have been sexual attraction. Rhett Abbott was straight. He had to be. After all, everybody expects the bull-wrangling, church-going Abbott offspring to be a well-respected, good old fashioned role model of a man.

I really wanna hug him and tell him that its ok to be "manly" and queer, to like man or women and man, just whatever feels right 🥺❤️‍🩹

"I wish you were a girl," he murmured. He wasn't looking at you, as his eyes were glued to the floor—glassy and scintillating.

🥺🥺🥺

You expected this of him. You knew it in your heart that you loved each other. But Rhett was stubborn and he had a reputation to hold. He never wanted to risk being a disappointment. Even if that meant hurting you. "I'm sorry," he utters. You always knew it was never going to work out. "Me too."

My heart reaks for both of them 💔

'i wish you were a girl'

Rhett Abbott x Reader

Summary: Rhett comes to you for help. You always had this weird relationship with him—a weird in-between of platonic and romantic. However, Rhett had a reputation to hold, meaning you could never go too far with him. The worst part, however, is that he truly likes you as much as you do.

Word Count: 1.1k

Content: (drabble-ish), non-woman!reader, male!reader, non-binary!reader, genderqueer!reader, inspired by 'as you are' film, influenced by 'brokeback mountain' film, are they lovers? worse, closeted Rhett Abbott, forbidden love, no happy ending (feel free to request a 2nd part), kissing, comfort, cuddling, events canon to the show, this is my pride month fic xx

-

Rhett Abbott was straight.

At least that's what the default assumption was in Wabang, Wyoming.

It was a western, conservative territory. Otherwise, there was an unspoken "don't ask, don't tell" etiquette among townsfolk. It wasn't too much of a burden to be queer, considering there was an out lesbian as the Deputy Sheriff. But that didn't mean Joy Hawk hadn't faced any hardships at all because of it.

Rhett Abbott was raised to be a "real man." He instantly got fixated on the concept of bull riding in his childhood and he was always teased by his elders whenever there was a girl his age right next to him.

There was nothing wrong with being queer. Rhett was taught to be respectful and kind, and that's what the Abbott family was all about. But if Rhett was queer? It was never a conversation. He was "too masculine, too much of a ladies' man" to be, so there were no concerns there.

Surely enough, that statement would soon be challenged once you came into the picture.

You were Rhett's close friend, knowing him for a few years now. It all started with you helping him shotgun a Miller Lite at a lively bonfire party. He fucked up with the first can and wound up spilling it all over the ground. As you witnessed his pathetic endeavor, you decided to assist him with a new can, puncturing the hole for him. Obviously, you both got drunk that evening, but Rhett seemed to be more hammered than you. The friends he came with were nowhere to be seen, so you stayed with him the entire time, driving him home once you finally sobered up. Ever since that night, you never left his side.

But that was years ago. Now, you had a much deeper connection, one that was more unconventional than anything. Don't take this the wrong way, it was beautiful. But it also wasn't comprehensible. It reached places farther than just friendship, yet it didn't quite meet the criteria for a real, romantic relationship either.

There was one thing for certain, however. Rhett Abbott simply couldn't be with you. It was well known—rather, well assumed—that he was straight.

So he didn't question this very moment; his head on your lap as you stroke his brown locks. Apparently, Rhett got into serious trouble. He wasn't specific about it as he blabbered to you in a panic, but he also knew you weren't the kind to pry. You would just do things for him without asking.

"Will you be my alibi for last night?" You could hear the urgency over the phone just through his anxious inflection.

He needed you. "Yeah. Sure."

And so, he came to your place in pursuit of solace. And you provided. After all, that's what friends were for.

Rhett lightly shifted his position on the couch, continuing to revel in your touch. His blue eyes bore into the wooden wall across from him, feeling the stress from his brother's actions slowly fading away.

He knew he shouldn't feel anything for you. He knew it wasn't right, to fall for his close friend. He knew it wasn't right to fall for someone like you.

"You okay?"

But he couldn't help it.

"What?" Rhett huffs in alert, slightly turning his head to face you.

Your hand that was in his hair lightly pushed him back in position to convey he had nothing to worry about. "You've been quiet," you mumble, gentle fingers continuing its ministrations, "something else bothering you?"

The man on your lap sighs deeply. "Everything's just so fucked up," he mutters bitterly, almost nuzzling your thigh with the slight stir of his nose.

Rhett was six feet tall, weighing around 150 pounds. He would frequently work on the ranch, having his fair share of chores. He would get into bar fights and he rode bulls for a living. But none of that mattered right now; he felt like the smallest person on earth as long as he was in your arms.

"Thank you for doing this," he mumbles, shutting his eyes briefly in exhaustion, "I know it's very... inconvenient."

"Yeah, well," you scoff softly, "you should know by now that I'm used to your troublemaking tendencies."

He let out a quiet chuckle in response, inhaling deeply in order to ground himself.

"Mm. Yeah," he sighs, before a bittersweet thought crossed his mind. "What would I do without you?"

Rhett sat up, untangling from your arms. He was beside you on the couch, searching your eyes with a hint of desperation. He needed to be close to you.

He felt like a magnet. It felt like you were falling—an excruciatingly slow fall towards him. You weren't sure what came over you, because your face moved closer and closer to his until your lips touched.

He kissed back.

You were kissing Rhett. And Rhett was kissing back.

Your hands were limp as your mouth moved with his, feeling his gentle, moist lips meshed with yours. He was lost in the sensation, exploring the foreign territory of intimacy with you. He kissed you deeply, his tongue already parting your mouth to taste you. Yet, while it felt like a millennium, the kiss concluded promptly.

Rhett sank back into his spot on the couch, and the two of you just stayed there motionless, processing what had just happened.

It's always been deemed so wrong, but it felt so right. He wasn't supposed to kiss a platonic friend. He wasn't supposed to kiss someone who wasn't a woman. He wasn't supposed to kiss you. No matter how much his body seemed to crave it.

Women were his forte, and that was the end of it. From childish crushes on girls in grade school, to hopeless yearning for Maria Olivares in high school, he's always liked women. And sure, his cowboy peers may have looked fairly attractive to him. And maybe that librarian always seemed to have a pretty smile on their face. But it didn't mean anything. There was no way it could have been sexual attraction. Rhett Abbott was straight. He had to be.

After all, everybody expects the bull-wrangling, church-going Abbott offspring to be a well-respected, good old fashioned role model of a man.

Rhett gulped, overwhelmed with a sense of guilt and regret as his next words would break the long streak of silence.

"I wish you were a girl," he murmured.

He wasn't looking at you, as his eyes were glued to the floor—glassy and scintillating.

You expected this of him. You knew it in your heart that you loved each other. But Rhett was stubborn and he had a reputation to hold. He never wanted to risk being a disappointment. Even if that meant hurting you.

"I'm sorry," he utters.

You always knew it was never going to work out.

"Me too."

You just didn't expect it to be this painful.

[starryeyedstray]

quick connorkus fic based on a cute lil idea by @thiriumstained-lemonblossoms

Connor is facing a dilemma.

He didn't intend for things to go this way, but it's how it unfolded and now he's uncertain how to untangle himself from the web he's caught in.

Connor knows the technical definition of dating. A status in a relationship between people indicating the intention of pursuing romance and/or physical intimacy. Theoretically it's a straight-forward definition, but in practice…

From his extensive research, he knows even humans have trouble with defining when a relationship went from "just friends" to "dating". The clearest indication is when someone is "asked out." But, sometimes, situations arise where one party thinks they're dating but leaves it unsaid, while the other member of the party doesn't realize the relationship has escalated to that point. Connor fears he may have fallen into the latter circumstance. Twice.

He thinks he's dating Markus and North.

Markus and North never explicitly stated that they were dating Connor, and Connor certainly never "asked out" either of them. But according to the evidence, there was a high probability that his relationship with both Markus and North had escalated to "dating."

Connor had run numerous reconstructions to examine how he ended up in this predicament, and he's attempted to filter every encounter with either deviant under the guise of "just friends." But there are some notable exceptions that couldn't be categorized so simply.

Like the pet names.

Nicknames are common among friends. Pet names are less so. North calling him Con? Acceptable. Perhaps even expected with a friend. North calling him "babe"? Not something you would typically call a friend. Markus calling him "love"? Something you definitely reserve for someone you're dating.

The increase in physical touch is another indication.

Though Connor likes the physical contact, he's never initiated it himself. And skinship between friends is not unusual. Some people are just more physically affectionate. Markus has always been this way. So the shoulder touches and hugs were not out of character. But the extended time they spent holding hands was… telling. North was touch-averse with everyone except Markus… and now, apparently, Connor. She'd sometimes loop her arms around his and lean her head against his shoulder. Occasionally, they even held hands. That fact that North didn't mind being physically affectionate with Connor was very telling.

The most damning piece of evidence was the kissing.

In some human cultures, a kiss on the cheek was an acceptable greeting among friends and family. It would not be strange for some androids to adopt this practice even if it was just a way to signal to humans the closeness between androids. But those weren't the types of kisses he's been receiving. He hasn't kissed either deviant mouth to mouth, but they both seemed to have a penchant for placing a light kiss on his LED. North hadn't done much other kissing besides that, but Markus would sometimes bring the back of Connor's hand up to his lips while their hands were interlocked. Now, it's possible that kisses between androids could have less intimate implications compared to humans, but Markus and North seemed to only reserve those types of kisses for him… and each other.

And therein lied the problem.

Connor doesn't mind that he's suddenly and apparently dating both Markus and North at the same time. In fact, he'd venture that he actually likes it. But the issue is that Markus and North are supposed to be dating each other. Not Connor. Their relationship is widely publicized. They've essentially become a celebrity couple overnight. Connor dating Markus and North separately while they were a couple posed a potential publicity scandal.

Especially since he isn't even sure Markus and North know that they are both separately dating Connor.

Life in Jericho has been busy. Markus is often away going to press conferences and political meetings. He's always out, and more often than not Connor is accompanying him as his bodyguard. Meanwhile, North is at Jericho helping organize and establish the deviants along with Josh and Simon. When Connor isn't with Markus, he's with North as an interim head of security. The long hours spent in both of their companies seemed to have blossomed the intimacy between them. But the three of them haven't been in the same room for almost a month, and it was during this time period that Connor noticed the shift in his relationship status with the two of them.

Perhaps, it's Connor's fault that things had gotten "out of hand" as humans would say. He let himself get too close despite being well aware of the relationship between Markus and North. He had been endeared by the way North's nose crinkled every time he said something that made her laugh. He had been enamored by the dazzling smile Markus gave him whenever he entered the room. He didn't pull away. In fact, he pursued that fluttering feeling that made his face flush and thirium pump thrum faster. He enjoyed their company and they seemed to welcome his. But now, Connor suspects he's what humans would call a "homewrecker."

North and Markus haven't seen each other in weeks, and Connor is… concerned about what will happen when they do finally meet. Will they realize that they both separately decided to date Connor? Would they break up because of that? Where does that leave Connor caught in the middle? Maybe they would blame him for this? For dating both of them and not telling the other? But Connor hadn't even realized he was dating either of them until recently. But maybe he should have been more perceptive?

The best case scenario for this to play out between Markus and North is what Connor would be hard-pressed to admit is the worse case scenario for him. That they both pretend none of this intimacy with Connor even happened. That they'll go back to "just friends" with him and resume dating each other. That this whole time he was just a proxy to fulfill the hole their other half had left behind. That when they were holding his hand and kissing him, they were just thinking of someone else. He didn't want to be discarded, but, theoretically, it would be for the best to not shake up the status quo at Jericho.

His thoughts have been spiraling around this topic for a full day now, but Markus is returning to Jericho tomorrow so he had one day to—

Connor stops in his tracks. Just around the corner, Markus and North are talking to each other.

Markus is here early?

He stares with indecision about what his next move should be. His processors firing to preconstruct the best course of action.

Then they both turn their heads towards Connor and—

"Where is he going?" North questions as she watches Connor's back frantically retreating around the corner.

"I think he just ran away from us." Markus pouts. "He looked panicked."

"Why?"

They both look at each other and they both come to the same conclusion.

North face palms. "You don't think he thinks—"

"Does he know that we know that—"

"Have you told him?"

"I thought it was obvious."

"I thought so too."

They both stare back at the space Connor had once been occupying.

"That dumbass thinks we're cheating on each other with him, doesn't he?"

Markus frowns. "I wasn't sure if he even realized we were dating. I was planning on asking him out properly with you once I got back to Jericho."

"So much for android detective. He couldn't even deduce that he's in a fucking polycule."

"To be fair, we haven't seen each other in weeks, so he probably assumed the worst."

Their eyes are still riveted forward. Markus' eyes meet North's again and they both have to stop themselves from laughing.

Everything about this was just so Connor. A mixture of exasperating and endearing.

"Shall we hunt down the deviant hunter?"

"Let's go find him before he burns a hole in his head from overthinking everything."

there will be a day where i write a connorkus fic where it's not just norkus pulling connor into their relationship. but today is not that day.

[softer-ua]

Honestly I think Hori did the best job of showing a fantasy bigotry because IT DOESNT MAKE FUCKING SENSE

Which is why it works because real life bigotry is fundamentally nonsense cruelty, like yeah you can trace it back to origins that’ll explain how we got to this fucked up point(usually by starting from an even more mind boggling fucked up point)

like it doesn't make sense for Deku to be considered plain and unlikeable for not having a quirk when nonvisible and kinda useless quirks exist

it doesn't make sense for Shoji or Toga or Shinso's quirks to be considered so dangerous and villain coded but not Bakugo’s, no ones ever concerned he might accidentally hurt someone and no one checks him when he does so intentionally

or Endevors, he runs towards crumbling buildings with open flames on his face, and no one ever checks for a broken gas line???!

But Bakugo and Endevor are rich

I've brought it up before but the Bakugo's are like rich rich, not just upper middle class, just look at their house and Katsuki just had the money to pay Kiri back already on hand and he gets to go hiking frequently and have a private music tutor. His parents work in the fashion industry in a world we're millions probably need specialized clothing and then they get Mitsuki to be the face of it who's quirk is basely having a good skin care routine so she's not quirkless but she isn't visibly altered from a quirk mutation either

And Endeavor literally bought his wife so he could do eugenics and no laws or public backlash ever occurred

theres no real rhyme or reason for the quirk bias's beyond keeping the class status quo, in the end even literal super powers doesn't change that the trifecta of money, power, and looks being what gets you ahead and what keeps you there.

just having quirks didn't make the world more equal at all, it didn't even really change anything, the powerful just got another tool in the bigotry tool box.

it takes drastic social changes to break up systemic issues, and even then it takes hard well enforced policy changes, you can’t have one without the other

which will make it interesting to see what Hawks can do, will the status quo jut right itself again?

They're still living in a capitalist police state with hero's on top, even if the opportunity to be a hero has widened an inch, so can Hawks actually work towards changing that or is it another example of the change being politness based again?

bigotry isn't pc but there's almost never been strong enough material changes towards equality and equity, and what little has been done is currently under attack globally

for a bit there a lot of slurs were on there way out of casual use in the USA but the social backlash against material changes of ending segregation and insisting that all children with disabilities are guaranteed a public education has lead to a rise in charter schools eating up public funds and funds being cut in general

And because that’s been allowed to happen we got trump

will whatever policies Hawks puts in place actually stick, or will their society see a rise in mini UA's we're kids like Bakugo with "real promise" get to go to private schools, kids like Toga will go to charter schools to get more specialized schooling sicne she's having a hard time with her peers, and kids like Uaraka can maybe get in to either one on a lottery system

and kids like Deku are left in drafty underfunded overcrowded schools where only kids like him, with the drive(and the time to do so) to work 100 times harder than everyone(else ruining their young minds and bodies), so he can, not even succeed really, but simply stay afloat

[p3n-i3]

Thinking abt...

[METANOIA READER USED]

[[MAINLY]COLE/JAY/ZANE/LLOYD/KAI/NYA/MORRO X YOU]

Imagine prom in the Ninjago movie verse.

Proms only a thing for Juniors and Seniors so you only had the honor of attending homecoming. (you still go to homecoming but its lame in comparison) Thus brings up the heated debate on who's going to ask you out first, as everyone has been sitting on it. Spoiler alert, it's Cole who asked you to be his prom date first, but he had the advantage of you living with him.

He actually asked you to be his prom date on complete accident, it was late at night when he had done so. He was lying on his back in your bed while you were sprawled on the opposite side, hand slapped against his face and foot on his leg. Of course he got uncomfortable real quick and decided to take up the bed as well, almost trapping you under him.

When you groaned out his name, half conscious, and asked him to move, Cole kinda froze and forgot what you had asked. It was silent and you thought that this was the end of the line for you until you heard him speak. "Go to prom with me... as my date." He was so tired you couldn't even hear him speak properly, and his face was buried in the mattress as well.

You, being tired as well, said yeah sure okay before flipping over and away from him. You both slept after that before you woke up in the morning, eating breakfast when it suddenly hit Cole. He was bewildered and asked if you remembered what he had asked you last night. You stared at him long and hard, making him panic, before you nodded your head. "Yeah, you asked me to flip over then something about cake." Oh he is cheering that you forgot holy shit.

Literally asked you to be his prom date that day while you were both walking home from school. It wasn't anything fancy, but he knew you wouldn't care any less, and you really didn't. You kinda just stopped and looked at him with a smirk before dramatically falling in his arms, stating that you had been waiting since the prom date was released for him to ask you. In truth you really had been and you were about to grow a pair and ask him yourself, but thankfully he beat you to it.

You also wouldn't have minded if the others had asked you out, but you knew that Cole would somehow be the one. He was totally nonchalant after you accepted his proposal too. (no he wasn't) And the second you were both home you told Lou and he was actually over the moon.

However telling Lou you were both going to prom was a mistake, saying you were going together? Oh brother yall are cooked.

You guys started to dread going home, Cole even temporarily joined your club so you both could stay after school. Lou had mandatory dance lessons after school, teaching you both how to slow dance. He stated that it was simply because he didn't want the two of you to embarrass yourselves at prom, but you saw his camera. He is a LIER.

Lou knows you're both going to embarrass yourselves on prom night, everyone does, but he clings to that excuse. Now, it's not that you and Cole don't like the dance lessons, they are fine and you both don't care, but it's odd. The two of you knew how to slow dance, Lou made sure you did the second you moved in, it was your moving audition or something. But Lou was practically shoving it down yalls throats..

Eventually he does stop pestering you both and allows you both to just be goofy people. However, he is always there when it comes to prom planning, he's lurking and stalking. You guys could literally be TEXTING about prom while right next to each other and suddenly he's a mind reader.

That being said, he goes with you and Cole when going dress and/or suit shopping for both of you. Since you guys are each others dates, of course yall gotta match, are you kidding. Cole also has devious plans to ask you out again for next year, so he's already got ideas brewing.

This year, you both are going to wear his favorite color, and next year you'll both wear yours. That being said, you'll have to suck it up and wear orange, because the smile on Cole's face when he sees you in it is priceless. Whether it's a dress in the color, or your tie is matching his, he is over the moon and giddy with excitement. He literally giggles and comes over to hug you, to which you try and escape but you really can't.

On the night of prom, the two of you are of course getting ready together. He helps you do your hair and you do his, he helps you tie whatever you need, helps you put on your shoes, you name it he's doing it. He loves just sitting and watching you get ready for the night, the kindest and sweetest smile lacing his face. He is so in love oh my god help him.

Once you're both done and put together Lou takes a billion pictures there's no running from him. You can see barely see it on his face, but Cole's eyes show just how shy he is right next to you. Usually, he is all about wrapping his arm around your waist and hugging you close, but right now he is an actual mess.

His arm is hovering over your waist as he stands with as much distance as possible, you and Lou are glaring at him. Grab him by the suit and drag him next to you or he will not get any closer than what he's doing. He is just so embarrassed because it feels wrong to be right next to you right now, you just look so pretty. He can't help it, he feels like if he touches you, you'll crumble and run away.

After an embarrassing photo session that almost ends up with you both being late, you arrive to prom. Of course it's loud as shit, but Cole is always blasting music so you lowkey don't have any hearing left. It's hard to find the others, so you both decide to just hang out before searching for them, who knows, maybe they'll find you.

Having you both wander is actually a bad idea because you both ended up at the DJ stand. Cole is begging the DJ to take his song requests while you're behind his back, throwing both of your names in for prom King and Queen. You both turn back around to face each other when you're done, and Cole knows something is wrong because of the smile on your face. He says nothing though because he has no proof...

Kai and Nya are the first people to spot you through the crowd, each of their reactions being heartfelt. Nya is screaming your name with a wide smile, while Kai is also screaming, but he actually looks petrified. The two of them waste no time throwing themselves on you and hugging you tightly, swaying the three of you side to side momentarily.

After breaking apart, Nya sticks to your side, holding your arm gently while she eyes you up and down with the biggest smile ever. Kai, on the other hand, is throwing an arm around Cole's shoulder and bringing him in close. "You're lucky, you know that? I was totally gonna ask her..." Cole just rolls his eyes and shoves him off playfully, because yeah right. Even as Kai is muttering about next year, Cole is just shaking his head with a stupid smile.

Kai eventually saunters back over to you, throwing his arm over your shoulder and keeping you close. The music is loud, and everyone else is louder, so it's hard to hear him when he speaks. It's only when he bends down and presses the side of his head to yours do you actually start to hear him.

It's hard to make out exactly what he's saying, but you're giggling nonetheless because his breath is ticklish. With the way the two of you are holding each other and with your giggles, people started to think he was actually your prom date. Was this Kai's plan? Maybe, but he's a Ninja, he's sneaky like that.

From the depths of the crowd, Jay eventually swam through them and found your group. You're the first one to notice the timid boy, and you practically SHOVED Kai off you to greet him. Jay is about to combust, you threw your arms around him and he got one sniff of your perfume and he's dead. Like, he actually goes limp in your arms.

Since he's a tad shorter than you, you're throwing your arms around his shoulders and pulling him in that way. You're of course mindful of his hair since it looked put together, and try to keep your distance from it. However, your cheek is pressed against his and his chest is on yours, he is not breathing at this point. You always were a close hugger, even giving everyone little kisses of appreciation on the cheek, but wowowowow.

When you pull away, you're shaking the boys by the shoulders, screaming about how you didn't expect Jay to be here. In reality, Jay actually did NOT want to come, but he also realized that you and Cole would be coming. Since he didn't want to miss out on seeing you, I mean seeing everyone, he decided last minute to come.

You're too absorbed in telling Jay how nice he looked that you didn't notice Zane sneaking up behind you. It's only when the boy touches your shoulder do you whip around to face him, your smile bright. Zane almost malfunctions because HELLO WHAT THE FUCK UR SO PRETTY??? Your smile is so wide and your eyes are so bright he is in awe.

He is only blinked out of his trance when you hug his abdomen tightly. He chuckles and carefully places his hands on your hips as a way to return the hug, ducking his head low. His suit is all white so you're careful to not touch your face to it, but you note that he smells better than usual. (He made sure he was extra perfect for you)

It's rather easy to find Lloyd that night, as everyone is distancing themselves from the boy as usual. You were quick to wave him over, watching as he sheepishly did so and opened his arms up for a hug. Please hug him. right now.

He's almost as embarrassed as Jay, but he does have a little bit of confidence in him. After all, he seems to feel a little more comfortable with his surroundings whenever you are around. However, the second you tell him he looks good and he's actually dead wow okay.

Once your group is done and sorted through, Kai is quickly dragging you to the dance floor with Cole right behind him. Sure, Cole's fine with you hanging out with everyone else, but you're his date so.. you don't mind if he tags along with, right?

Now, Kai isn't all up on you in like a weird way, but he's all up on you because it's Kai. He's holding your hand, pulling your arm, holding you close to him while he attempts to dance, which he sucks at. You're practically being manhandled on that damn dance floor but it's in the silliest and non threatening way possible.

He's the guy that would drag you to the dance floor if he heard the songs like Cupid Shuffle or Wobble come on. Even if the most underground song came on, you're going with him if he thinks the vibes are right. And guess what? With Kai, they are always right because he just has the positive mind set.

With the other Smith, Nya is also someone who pulls you to the dance floor, but when her favorite songs come on. Her songs are kinda like niche so it's rare, but if some white girl music comes on she drags you on as a joke. Of course she does stuff for the bit, but she ends up enjoying the results, because she likes seeing you laughing.

She'll hold your hands and bounce the two of you back and forth on the floor, occasionally knocking someone over. She really isn't someone who gets dressed up for fancy occasions, so you're a little surprised that she did. Her hair is tied up as always though, it makes you smile to note that some things just don't change about your friends.

When you're not being bombarded by the siblings to dance, you're more than likely at the snack bar with Cole and Jay. Your friend couldn't help himself when he saw portions of his favorite sweets, and you just so happened to drag Jay with you. Although the ginger isn't complaining, snacking is the safest option besides standing in the corner at prom.

Still, Jay does shift a little when a few songs come on, so you and Cole of course shuffle together with the boy. It's nothing big or crazy, just both of your arms wrapped around the ginger and swaying the three of you side to side. Jay's just sheepishly giggling and leaning closer to you than Cole, his friend joking around and getting closer to him. All you can do is laugh and do the same as Cole, seeing how embarrassed it makes Jay.

Jay's not really the one to snack as much, but when he does he's a little bit of a messy eater. You're just dramatically sighing and wiping his face off while you're both tucked in a corner, Cole somewhere else. Jay is continuously shuffling as he had his back pressed against the wall, you ridiculously close to him with a focused expression.

Of course nothing happens, to Jay's disappointment, but it does get a few stares every now and then. And when you're done pampering Jay and making sure that he didn't stain his suit, you're being dragged away. By who you may ask? Morro of course !!

Again, he's all fine and dandy with you being close with your other friends, but sometimes he's just a little selfish. He rarely gets to go on outings with you that aren't just club activities, so he tries to take what he can get. And you were just standing there staring at Jay, so obviously you weren't doing anything too important.

Morro isn't the person to go to public outings, you of all people know that, so you're not surprised when he sat you both at one of the tables. The two of you kind of just stare at each other, a knowing smile on your face as Morro attempts to look away from you. But he finds it hard when you look so radiant, something he really isn't used to.

You never dress up to go out with him, because you guys always go out into the woods or some abandoned building. There's no real reason for you to make yourself look nice when you're going to end up tearing a piece of clothing. Not only that, but if you did decide to make yourself look nice for those simple occasions, Morro would be more than distracted. And he couldn't afford that, how else was he supposed to protect you if he's distracted looking at you?

The two of you quietly point at a few classmates and giggle when you see them trip over their feet. It's only when Lloyd comes over and traces his hand over your shoulder before sitting down does Morro's expression shift. The blonde typically isn't confident when it comes to you, Morro as well, but there are certain instances where they both grow a pair.

And that's when they are in each other's vicinity.

Morro and Lloyd went to the same Elementary and Middle school, they have generational beef. Lloyd was always a single score better than Morro in their classes, and despite the fact that the blonde was the most hated, he was still more popular. Sure, his popularity was fueled by hate, but at least people were looking at him, acknowledging him.

So when it came to high school, the two of course split and never talked again, until they both met you. Lloyd had of course found you first, Morro always being a step behind him, but you loved the two of them all the same. However, they are kinda stupid and can't really see that, so they always make it a competition to see who you can focus on for longer.

Lloyd sat himself down on your other side, watching as your eyes followed his figure with a smile as he did so. Shuffling in your chair, Lloyd asked what the two of you were doing, watching as you started to explain. The blondes eyes tried to stay on you, but they were more focused on the black haired individual right next to you, a deep frown on his face.

Lloyd only smiled and shuffled a little closer, his arm draped on the back of your chair as he leaned his head closer. You paused you talking to narrow your eyes at him, watching as he just blinked innocently at you. To which, you smacked your hand lightly on his face and pushed him away, listening to him giggle as he sat back in his chair properly.

Once your hand was back to your side, you felt a finger craze against the skin of your arm. Turning over, you could see the silent plea Morro held in his eyes as he glared at Lloyd momentarily, the blonde unaware. Sighing and shaking your head, you kicked the boys ankle a little to get your point across, Morro just huffing at you.

The three of you sat there, light bickering coursing between the two before the music started to shift. Your lips pursed a little as you heard the tunes slowly shift into something softer, slower, something that gave you after school trauma. And you could also feel the glares of the two boys next to you on one another as Lloyds grip on the back of your chair tightened.

Sighing and smiling, you glanced backwards and stood up when you felt your friend coming over, saving you. Cole was quick to drag you away from the two green heads, watching as you gave them a brief wave. The two of them could only just sink back into their chairs and watch you and Cole disappear with small frowns on their faces. Oh well, maybe one day.

While the after school dance lessons were traumatizing, it was still something you and Cole enjoyed. And it was clear that you both did when your friend carefully took your hand in his, placing his hand carefully on your waist. You returned the soft gestures by squeezing his hand right back and placing your other on his shoulder, staring up at the taller with a smile.

The dance was nothing special, as most slow dances are, just the two of you swaying side to side with the occasional spin. However, it felt like everything was right in the world with Cole as he stared down at you. Seeing you looking up at him with lights covering you perfectly, wearing his favorite color and holding him just as gently. He was about to pass away, sos.

While Cole had his eyes practically glued on you, that doesn't mean he isn't paying attention to everything. He notices the way another couple might accidentally get too close before shuffling the two of you out of their way. He makes sure your shoes don't accidentally catch onto the small lift in the floor boards, the venue your school had picked wasn't the best. But he does never fail to notice the way you kindly thank him with your eyes afterwards, that is something he never misses.

And when the song comes to an end, you shift your arms to wrap around his neck, watching as his smile shifts for a moment. Cole looks almost panicked as he places both of his hands on your waist, holding you carefully. Rolling your eyes and tugging him a little closer, you place your forehead on his, looking him in the eyes and thanking him for bringing you.

Cole just dumbly nods his head while trying to keep his gaze focused on your eyes, not anywhere else. It's not like he wants to kiss you or anything, that would be weirdddd. You're both friends, the best of friends! Why would he wanna kiss his amazingly gorgeous, funny, beautiful, striking, amazing, kind and sweet best friend???

It's only when you lean to the side and kiss his cheek does he let a small giggle slip. Cole was quick to shut his mouth though, keeping his gaze at the floor as you pulled back and looked at him. The two of you glance at each other momentarily before either of you is bursting out with laughter, the boy just dragging your chest to his and dragging you off the dance floor.

As the night unwinds, you find yourself seated with Cole at one of the tables, your shoulder pressed against his. He has his arm lazily wrapped around your side, keeping you close, while clicking around on his phone. You on the other hand have your eyes closed, attempting to take a small power nap as Cole bounced his leg impatiently. The two of you had practically done all you could at the venue, and it was starting to get late, you were both only staying to see who won prom King and Queen.

Though Cole wasn't particularly interested in seeing who won, you seemed like you cared a lot. So, he decided to stick it out for just a little longer, messaging his father that you both were going to leave after a while. Lou could only pester your friend into sending every picture that was taken, Cole just shaking his head as he adjusted his posture.

Whenever someone would walk over, the boy would randomly shift, pulling you slightly closer. It's not that he wasn't against you going up and dancing with other pretty boys and girls, nooo. He's just making sure that you're getting the sleep that you wanted right now, of course! Just don't tell him that every time he shifts, he thwarts your attempts in doing so.

Sighing and placing his phone down, Cole nudged you awake when he saw a girl dressed in silver walk up to the small DJ stand. You shuffled and sat up a little straighter when you noticed what was happening, catching Cole's attention. He glanced down at you, watching as your brows furrowed a little as the girl opened the little envelope in her hands, turning over to glance at her momentarily.

It's only when he hears both of your names leave her lips does he understand what you have done. However, he doesn't really get time to process the fact, as you're standing up and dragging him by his tux's sleeve. And even when he's standing up in front of everyone, he doesn't really realize what was happening until he turned to look over at you.

You had that stupid smile on your face that told him that you had fooled him once again. Somehow, you always managed to do something behind his back that was beyond him, but the results were always positive. Because he still couldn't get over the smile you had, even as the sash was placed across him, he was still glancing at you.

Stepping off to the side, you both got your pictures for the year book before finally calling it quits for the night. You said goodbye to your friends before leaving the building, sighing as the cold air of the night brushed against you. Your shoes were discarded and in your hands, Cole attempting to message his dad and find out where the man was.

With a small stumble, Cole was quick to pick you up despite your giggles of protest. All he did was smile and state that it wouldn't be right to let his queen walk around barefooted and hurting. Even when his dad pulled up and greeted you both, Cole was careful to sit you in the back seat before climbing after you.

And when you both got home, you were both quick to retreat to your room, Lou just smiling fondly as you shut the door. There was no effort in attempting to take off your clothes for something more comfortable. Cole simply undid his tie, took off his shoes and coat before throwing himself on the bed after you, listening to you scream under neath him.

After shuffling around for a moment, you both laid on your sides, facing each other with bright smiles. Though Cole wanted to say more, do more, he didn't when he saw the way your eyes drooped every passing second. So, he allowed you to fall asleep with him by your side, pulling you close and holding you tight, not caring if your makeup stained his dress shirt.

Yeahhhh he's asking you out to prom next year too, no doubt.

Probably gonna write abt Lloyd and his daddy issues next

Also I'll do requests divas, ask either on here or on insta. I always deliver trusttttt

[destinygoldenstar]

Pomni Is A Fool

Pomni's backstory actually really tells you how much her being in the circus is SICK KARMA.

She's a supermarket accountant who 'got bored of things' and sought out mild thrills like urban exploring, and posting videos of it on YouTube.

When Jax calls her a YouTuber, she replies with "Not really. Nobody watched them." While looking at her drink sadly.

So basically, she was a thrill seeker, and an attention seeker. (I say that cause Zooble also urban explored, but didn't post anything about it)

Which... at first when I heard this backstory, thought it was VERY out of line with the Pomni we know.

After all, from just the Pilot, everyone has characterized her as 'the embodiment of anxiety'.

Doesn't help that Glitch's Merch and Ads ALSO put that aspect of her front and center.

I kinda suspected there HAD to be more to her than that. But I also thought this would still be an aspect of her and played into her past life.

Especially given how much more layers we get of who Pomni is in the other episodes.

She's NOT just anxiety. She's someone who has ZERO direction in her life and considers herself and her abilities worthless.

She is a nihilist who has extremely low self esteem, so much so that she believes that when she dies, nobody will care about her. So at the start of the show, she's a loner who wallows in her negative emotions, not even bothering to interact with her peers. Willingly. Which also adds to development of anxiety and depression.

She DOES want friends, as shown with Gummigoo. But as shown by her reaction with his 'death',

She LAUGHS at losing him.

It's almost like she EXPECTS these results, and expects her own misery.

"I knew it would end up like this"

Which, YES, is anxiety.

A lot of people think anxiety is "PANICKING AND CONSTANTLY NERVOUS"

THAT'S NOT WHAT IT IS. THAT'S JUST THE SURFACE LEVEL.

Anxiety is an emotion centered around uneasiness of an unknown outcome. And in the cases of a disorder, you just naturally expect bad things to happen to you. Some people have a better handling of their anxiety than others.

That is until she is rescued in literal hell by Kinger, and he gives her sound advice on how NOT pointless life is.

Also something to point out: Evil Pomni, the opposite, is an apathetic gremlin who takes pride in action, with such an inflated ego (taking a nap in the field before catching the ball and gloating about it). Obviously the opposite of Pomni's current state, as someone with high empathy and low esteem. Evil Pomni is high apathy and a high ego.

This post is also neat in explaining the evil clones

Wouldn't it be crazy if this was a potential ugly side Pomni had before the circus? (Just more subtle than this exaggerated evil clone)

(Personally, I wanna see her crash out in the future)

BUT THIS IS THE THING THAT REALLY SCRATCHED MY HEAD.

Pomni is also shown to do pretty poorly with the more thrilling adventures. She wants to LEAVE these. In every instance, she's shown desire to NOT be a part of the adventures.

Kaufmo. She bails.

Candyland. She doesn't want to be there.

Mildenhall Manor. She's afraid of horror, and when she accidentally falls through the scary door, her immediate plan is to get out of there.

The only time she's not in pain during an adventure is in the normal ones. Spudsys, Stargazing, the bar, these adventures are when Pomni is actually... chill. Especially Spudsys.

So, I read this as Pomni naturally gravitates towards the mundane lifestyle.

BUT HER BACKSTORY DOES NOT SUPPORT THIS.

Her backstory tells us she was a totally different person prior to the circus. She did NOT enjoy her mundane lifestyle as an accountant, and was a thrill seeker who LIKED exploring, and adventures. She also was seeking attention by posting on YouTube.

THIS SOUNDS TOTALLY DIFFERENT FROM THE POMNI WE KNOW IN THE SHOW.

So, what, is this simply OOC?

Call me reading too much into it, but MAYBE THIS IS THE POINT.

It's not out of line if we see her nihilistic traits in the start of the series and 'feeling like she's nothing'.

Her life was depressing. Nobody noticed her. Nobody watched her videos or took any interest in her.

Which could also be why she's a jester. Jesters are attention seekers and prominent members of the royal court.

The design gimmick for the TADC characters is that they are a twisted cartoony version of their internal struggles.

Gangle is a frail ribbon who is literally two faced because that was her life prior to the circus. Zooble has a body designed to constantly be changing and never feel comfortable because they never found themselves in their old life. Ragatha is a ragdoll because dolls were considered wealthy toys in the past, but she's a kind of doll designed to be able to take beatings because of her abuse in her prior life. (She also has one button eye, which indicates harm and partial blindness) You get it.

Pomni is a jester, who in her past, was never noticed despite her attempts. Which is a sick karma of what she wanted to have and be seen as. (You could also link a YouTuber to the modern equivalent of a jester) A FOOLISH DESIRE TO THINK SHE COULD BE WORTH THE ATTENTION.

So she craved adventure and attention. Something more in her life.

But when she actually ends up in the circus, she rejects it. She only goes on the adventures out of obligation, but DOESN'T enjoy them.

Funny, you'd think she'd be interested in this stuff. But no.

She got the thrill-seeking life she wanted. And she hates it. She fears nearly everything about it.

...so maybe that's why she gravitates towards the mundane adventures.

This whole circus, for her, is a sadistic version of karma, and God's way of punishing her for wanting more out of the life she was given.

You never know how much something means to you until you lose it.

If she could go back to her old life as an accountant, back to when the world made sense, back to when everything was fine, she would. And she'd never complain about it again.

She didn't need these thrills, or this attention, or any of these wild adventures in order for her life to have a purpose. All she needed was to just... live life.

And said life got taken away before she could realize that.

HER LIVING EMBODIMENT IN THIS CIRCUS, IS THE FOOL.

[danwhobrowses]

So ever since it was confirmed that the upcoming Daggerheart live show in Exandria would be involving Bell's Hells I've been looking through the current content to see how BH will be reskinned into the Daggerheart setting. Bearing in mind that Daggerheart, being still very new to the block and not having all the expansions and exceptions that Critical Role has utilised and tweaked in 5e, has its own set of strict-ish rules regarding character creation.

While I know I'm not the first to do this I did fall into a small theory, if you're willing to take the scenic route XD

So for starters we should look at what we have already. Like many others my curiosity of converting Bell's Hells from 5e to Daggerheart stemmed from BH having a litany of passive abilities that don't appear to gel with Daggerheart cleanly. So we start by covering what can be covered.

For starters, we have to consider the levels. Since Daggerheart levels go up to 10 rather than 20 (if you want to read how I expected BH could shape up in a 5e Lv20 state you can read this), the safe bet is that the live show will put BH at Daggerheart's Level 8, the early Tier 4 for single classes, which would sit around Level 16 for 5e. This will probably be the zone which the live show will take place since Bell's Hells ended the campaign at Level 15 (gaining 2 temporary levels from the Matron for the Predathos fight), and it provides room for the max level variations of BH to be presented in a future one-shot. With that in mind this is how I would predict each character would set up with the information we know from Daggerheart already;

Orym: Orderborne Halfling, Level 8 (Tier 4) Call of the Brave Warrior

Dorian: Highborne Skykin, Level 8 (Tier 4) Troubadour Bard

Imogen: Hearthborne Human, Level 8 (Tier 4) Elemental Origin Sorcerer

Laudna: Freeborne Human, Level 6 (Tier 3) Hedge Witch & Level 2 (Tier 2) Pact of the Endless Warlock

Braius: Orderborne reskinned Firbolg, Level 5 (Tier 3) Divine Wielder Seraph & Level 3 (Tier 2) Wordsmith Bard

Fearne: Wildborne Faun, Level 6 (Tier 3) Warden of the Elements Druid & Level 2 (Tier 2) Nightwalker Rogue

Ashton: Slyborne Earthkin, Level 8 (Tier 4) Stalwart Guardian

Chetney: Warborne Gnome, Level 6 (Tier 3) Wayfinder Ranger & Level 2 (Tier 2) Executioner's Guild Assassin

At the time of initially writing this, we didn't have the new bundle of content added to the Void on June 24th, which did cut out a lot of my explaining and arguments for what would replace a Genasi and Gnome - I also didn't want to delve into stats and Domain cards because, well, you guys don't have all day.

In terms of Multiclassing, I've put all multiclassers into Tier 2 for their secondary class simply because it gives them more domain cards to use, even it's just a Level 1 or 2 card, but I can see Chet, Laudna, and Braius doing a singular dip into multiclass instead, given that the class doesn't offer as much as the 5e multiclass does and you're only limited to one Multiclass - which could make characters like FRIDA difficult to cross over.

The addition of newer communities led to me changing my choices for Laudna, Imogen, and Chetney (of whom I chose Underborne for Laudna and Chet and Loreborne for Imogen), while the new Witch class - following the still in beta Warlock class - seems to benefit Laudna more than the Sorcerer does, with her more focused around the spooky and communing parts of her 5e Shadow Sorcery subclass. I also swapped Chet's Syndicate Rogue for the other new class: Assassin. Although like Laudna it appears to be a departure from their 5e classes, Assassin seems to focus more on the offensive elements of 5e's Rogue rather than the evasive and persuasive that DH's Rogue leans more towards - which also suits Fearne more than Assassin does. While I am aware that there is a Faerie ancestry, I also felt that Fearne could easily stick as a Faun and just use her Fey upbringing as an Experience, that way her fey traits can be utilized when required such as charming or causing trickery or pickpocketing Ashton or whoever has one of those eggs she covets. Chet's build could work as a Warrior too but I felt Ranger was probably the more diverse option for him - plus Orym has it covered - to aid with his Lycanthrope abilities and tracking skills, but this too can be subject to change. Imogen I kept as Elemental Origin for the Lightning usage, while she could dip into a Moon Witch class it would depend on whether Imogen would want to commune with the only entity she's connected to - Predathos - in such a way.

It is curious that Daggerheart does not yet have a Blood Hunter equivalent, however, given how they invented the class for 5e - along with 5e-compliant Gunslinger, Oath of the Open Sea, Way of the Cobalt Soul, Sympathy Domain, and Path of Fundamental Chaos subclasses. But while the Void has added new content to the core Daggerheart ruleset to better fit the builds of the characters of Exandria, there are a few glaring gaps to take into account. While some things can probably worked around such as familiars for Fearne and Laudna (we are not going to have Bell's Hells without Mister or Pate after all) and Chet's werewolf/hybrid forms, it isn't as easy to neatly copy over all the abilities, boons, and core skillsets synonymous with Bell's Hells and their style of play. The key character for this is Ashton; Guardians don't have a Rage equivalent and Unstoppable is only for a limited time once per Long Rest, so it is not so easy to bake in Ashton's Chaos bursts and Dunamancy abilities into Daggerheart as it is, and work would need to be done to rewrite the rules of theirs and Fearne's Primordial Titan forms with the boons and cost reflecting similarly to how they did in the campaign - or scaled to how they would've scaled under 5e's rules. Significant additions could also need to be applied for Imogen's always-active telepathy and lingering Exaltant powers, not to mention Laudna's entrapping of her patron - which would affect the Favor mechanic of the Warlock class.

While Bell's Hells as characters will act the same way in a Daggerheart setting, the changes and transition from 5e to Daggerheart can affect the way they approach problems or adversaries and that risks making the characters feel off from how they usually are - for instance, since the loadout is only 5 cards, the casters are very limited in their spellcasting, and the likes of Imogen and Laudna will end up needing to have a magic weapon equipped that they didn't have before. So I wondered to myself, why choose Bell's Hells for this Daggerheart in Exandria one-shot? When you think about it, Vox Machina does seem better equipped to transition into the new ruleset - especially now that Gnomes are covered - alternatively, the Menagerie could easily exist in Exandria too, or they could've just done fresh characters from Exandria and fans would still show up and love it. So why Bell's Hells? And I think it's because there's still more yet to be released.

My theory is that either before or during this Daggerheart live show, Daggerheart's first expansion will be unveiled: an Exandria Expansion.

Whether it's announced for the Void or a physical copy all ready to go, I can see this expansion filling the gaps for most of what Bell's Hells are unable to cleanly cover right now; transformative states or curses external from class and/or ancestry, friends and familiar sheets to add as a companion or summon, Campaign Frames for different eras and regions of Exandria or adventures like they did in 5e with Call of the Netherdeep, special equipment such as the Vestiges or unique equipment to PCs like Percy's guns and other inventions, Beau's Bo (bow optional), Yasha's Greatswords, Veth's crossbows, Gambolcleft, Turmoil, and Ashton's Hammer (bow also optional). CR-based magic and technology such as Dunamancy (which could be worked into a domain available for all classes if done right or simply its own additional loadout), Residuum, and Brumestone could also be included, and maybe even adding more new classes - if I were to make a guess; Blood Hunter and Artificer equivalents, or a Gunslinger equivalent for Percy and the Colossus of the Drylands campaign frame. We may even get more ancestries introduced through CR like Uniya, Reilora, and Bormodo, perhaps even subdivisions of ancestries such as Half-Elves, Half-Orcs, and altered Humans, or more beastfolk equivalents for Minotaurs, Centaurs, Kobolds, Kenku, and Eisfuura/Aarakocra. We could even get CR-based artwork on existing cards just for additional flavour, and themed dice.

If this ends up being a reality, this will probably allow an easier understanding of how Bell's Hells will shape up and transition into Daggerheart. While some things may still need reskinning, reshuffling, or just pure homebrewing, I doubt Critical Role would choose Bell's Hells for this task if they didn't feel that they could blend into this new ruleset smoothly. A fluid transition to Daggerheart from 5e will also prove its flexibility for veteran or hesitant 5e players and help bring Critical Role fully into Daggerheart's style of play for potentially Campaign 4.

Maybe more information or elaboration will come later down the line, and maybe the group will even do a Session 0 to show the process of their characters' Daggerheart build and justify their changes and alterations, or to make all our predictions right or wrong, but for now it just remains a hypothetical albeit interesting idea.

[grappel-writes]

Climatización

Read on ao3

Ch: 1/10

Human Hector, Real World AU

Hector's job was to care. He had been blessed with total access to the life of Reed, a coworker at Valdivia living in the company's fully monitored model apartment. What started as a curious observation became more, and then everything to him. His secret interventions are acts of devotion, and as far as Reed knows, their life is just mysteriously, blandly, perfect.

Until a shoddy camera stream and strange cache of saved videos lead them to contact the anonymous security tech pulling the strings, and Hector's carefully curated world threatens to collapse.

wc: 2,785

cw: stalking, obsessive behavior, voyeurism, hector generally being a freak

Snippet:

The surveillance cameras in Reed's apartment don't go dark that day, the day after, or the next week, either. Hector doesn't know when the right time would be to bring it up. He never expected to become so invested in Reed, his new passion and fascination, for weeks. At every passing thought of who they could be, who he could be to them, he promises himself he will become that man for them. And each time, another day goes by, another week.

He certainly didn't plan for it to consume two years.

Hector’s life was decorated only by the static hum of his computer and servers and the pallid, blue glow of monitors. The windows were often closed tightly, and the black out curtains hung around the whole house simply helped him focus. Despite the alarms he set, days often blurred into each other. He had preferred his own company as long as he could remember, but it had worsened drastically as soon as he began to live on his own, and then absolute when he began to work remotely full-time. Truly, he preferred it this way. Very few people ever had to see him and he wouldn’t have it any other way. His solitude had become a comfortable, if threadbare, coat to cover himself. 

His days consisted of performing behind the scenes support work. It suited him. He made sure the ugly machines and code behind the glossy screens and UI’s worked. The stuff no one wanted to look at, the stuff best kept hidden. When he did it well, those with forward facing jobs could be successful. He liked to think of it like being a stage tech. This didn’t mean that other stage techs were safe, either, though. As he scrolls through lines and lines of access logs, looking for a specific date, his muted messenger app turns red. 

He groans and considers ignoring it, but curiosity gets the better of him. 

Heyyyyy you wanna crawl out of your cave and come out tonight? Team’s going to karaoke to celebrate the new update rolling out. 

He doesn’t even take the time to consider it. 

You all have fun, sounds like a good time. 

Oh come *on* Hector, you were the whole reason that rollout didn’t crash and burn, you saved our asses at least three times. 

No, it’s alright. I’d actually be happier if I stayed home… but, it was kind of you to think of me. 

Okay, well if you change your mind, just show up. 

He won’t be changing his mind, not tonight at least. One day he will. One day he’ll be charismatic and confident, and not only will he accept invites like this but he’ll be the one sending them out. He closes the window. It wasn’t today. 

This and attempts at writing and drawing that he ended up being so embarrassed of that he usually ended destroying were his whole world until Reed. Hector doesn't remember when Reed became the prime feature of his life, but he remembers how it all started. A tinny blip, a flashing notification from his third monitor “Motion Detected”. 

Odd. He clicks on the notification and the furnished display unit for one of the many apartment complexes he monitors appears. The bland commercial decor, beige couches, and inoffensive art, looked the same as always. But then there was Reed, standing in the front door. Alone. Of course, he didn't know their name then. He only knew their dark hair that fell just past their jaw and how it caught the sunlight from behind them. He knew their dark eyes, and the way they held their shoulders back as if they knew they belonged in any space they walked into. Like how he wishes he could. He knew the gentleness of their movements when the door latched shut again, a soft and mindful click barely coming through his speakers.  

He assumed it was a new employee that he missed the onboarding of preparing to give a tour of the unit. That's all that unit 14 was ever used for, anyway. A lifeless space wired and bugged to the nines to show off Valdivia's smart home and security features. Every appliance, camera, lock, and sensor could be controlled by your phone (or the ‘home office’, which, for the time being, was effectively just Hector’s own remote setup). 

There were no potential renters trailing behind them, though. Just a suitcase and a bag slung over their shoulder with the company logo emblazoned on the front. They shut the front door behind them and set down their things, their posture relaxing as they took in the new space. Hector’s fingers deftly clicked from one camera to the other, following them as they explored. It was much more interesting than the list of tickets and low-priority tasks queued up on his other monitor, after all. He watched them open the fridge, a perfect, empty space that had only ever held fake fruit and empty carafes. He watched them run the sinks, testing the water pressure, and crank the AC down to 70. Mundane tasks, normal habits of someone settling down into a new home, yet he caught himself leaning even closer to the screen. He flicked through 14’s status panel. All appliances were operational, sensors worked, all lights were green. Good. 

He never asks himself why he was concerned that everything worked, not then. Nor does he ask why the access to 14’s monitoring features, which should have been automatically firewalled from his account the moment it was designated for occupancy, weren’t cut.

For the rest of the day, he tries to focus on his own work, he really does. But he can’t bring himself to close the feed to the newly occupied apartment. It wasn’t like they were doing anything interesting. They had opened their work laptop in their office and were, by the look of it, getting much more done than he was. They shift a few times in their chair, the cheap, stylish type meant to be looked at and not actually used. Surely the office had a spare somewhere that would be better for them. Or, even better, the budget to not notice if one had been purchased. He just hates to see them stretch their back in obvious discomfort after only a short time, a subtle wince on their face that no one else but him gets to see. 

Hector zooms the camera in, the pixels rearranging to bring their form into sharper focus. He intends to check just the chair's brand, a flimsy excuse he offers himself. Something else caught his eye instead. The workstation code, a simple labelmaker sticker, on the laptop’s case. A simple string of letters and numbers. It only takes a quick search to find who it was assigned to. 

Reed. 

Hector hovers over the link to their full employee file. A tremor, barely perceptible, held his hand. He knew this was the line that you don’t cross. But the justifications were forming so beautifully for him. He could explain it away if asked, surely . He wasn’t told that unit 14 was being rented to an employee - how was he supposed to know they weren’t a squatter or thief? Someone he should report? It’s a security check. Due diligence… it’s wrong. A fireable offense, even. Due diligence.

He downloads it. The pdf opened, 24 pages of information. The ins and outs of everything an employer could want or need to know. Reed has worked with Valdivia for only 6 months, and relocated to their home office here from across the country just this week. Part of that relocation package was a Validivian-owned apartment, but seeing as this building was fully rented out, they had ended up with the display model: unit 14. Hector's chin falls into his hand as he scrolls, the hum of his computer getting louder as the fans kick on at a higher speed. 

They are a customer service team lead, usually remote but would commute to the office as needed, and according to their insurance documents, they’re single. So it would just be then in the apartment this entire time. Probably for the best, he thinks, it’s roomy for a one bedroom but two people might be crowded . He absorbs every line as if it were a sacred text that only he could make sense of. As if it were written in a language that could only matter to him, to let him know who Reed really is. 

By the time he’s finished and pulls the livestream back up, he feels a lurch of knowing when his eyes land on Reed again. It was like being introduced to someone he’d heard stories about and had been excited to meet. Reed was exploring their cabinets, examining the excessively boring, corporate-supplied dishware, and Hector sounded their name out loud in the silence of his room. “Reed.” He wonders if they missed home, or if they were enjoying their new space. 

Reed taps their fingers on the kitchen cabinet, and Hector finds himself tilting his head curiously. What are you thinking?

They start pulling everything from the shelves. The line green dishware, the three sets of silverware, all colorful and impractical and line them all up on the counter. They assess each piece, and if it passes their judgement, it’s returned to the cabinet. If not, it’s set aside on the kitchen table presumably to be tossed. It becomes a fun little game for Hector. They pick up a steak knife, and with the slightest amount of pressure it bends. It’s gone.  

And it is. All three of them, actually, are dropped directly into the tacky plastic popcorn bowl already waiting on the table. The salt and pepper shakers are safe - they’re the normal black and white. But Reed surprises him when he’s sure that they’ll keep a pan after knocking on the bottom of it. It looks heavy enough, and the sound that came over the speakers resonates well, but Reed’s lip twitches in disapproval and it, too, is set aside. He is fascinated by their mind, how they think. Even the smallest of actions reflect a person who he is sure is fathoms deep, and he wants to explore it. 

Minutes turn  to hours, and when his alarm goes off at 4:30 pm, indicating the end of his workday, Hector jumps as if he has been caught. He removes his headphones and silences it quickly. One by one, he closes down the windows of his work. With a hesitation, he closes the wikipedia page for Reed’s hometown and the home page of the college they attended as well. He marks himself as offline. His cursor moves to close the livestream, as well, but he stops.

It had been all day, and he was already violating their privacy in a way that sent cold knots up his back, but he can’t bring himself to do it. What if the feed is cut off overnight? It would come eventually, as soon as someone in IT noticed that 14’s cameras weren’t just for demonstrating anymore. No, it’d be best for him to leave it open, just to check in the morning that they were shut off properly first thing. Just to be sure. 

The sun fell and rose. Despite Hector laying awake for hours, staring at his phone and mindlessly scrolling. He wonders if Reed went to bed early, too, but he resists the urge to check. He can see his dead monitors from his bed, the flashing red indicator on the tower that the computer is still. It would be so easy to just… get up, shake the mouse, and check. At the thought he twists in his bed. Is that the kind of person I am? The battle between what he wants to do and who he is afraid that will reveal himself to be persists, but he manages to resist. 

At 7:00 on the dot he wakes his monitor, and to his dizzying relief, the feed hasn't been shut off. He watches with a blossoming warmth as Reed starts their day, letting them keep him company through the screen. Sitting together like this, it’s easy to imagine them sharing this little morning routine in person. He’s looking forward to doing that someday. Maybe he could use this as an opportunity to finally… leave. Reed just seems like someone he would click with instantly. Someone who could get him, when he was ready to show that side of himself. When Reed begins work, he does as well. He expects the stream to go black at any moment, but it stays up.

It doesn't go dark the day after that, or the next week, either. Hector doesn't know when the right time would be to bring it up. He never expected to become so invested in Reed, his new passion and fascination, for weeks. At every passing thought of who they could be, who he could be to them, he promises himself he will become that man for them. And each time, another day goes by, another week. 

He certainly didn't plan for it to consume two years. 

And yet here he was, years later, a master in the concern and care of his Reed. Their problems were his problems, and more importantly their comfort and satisfaction, his, too. That awful desk chair had been replaced within a few months, Reed never even suspected the new one that arrived addressed to them from “Corporate Wellness”. Watching Reed put the new one together and stretch back against it with a soft, unconscious smile made his breath catch. 

Their smile, their languid stretch, was because of him. He had fantasized and desired providing something in return for all he had been blessed to see, and he had. It was anonymous. They never had to know it was his doing; they'd never have to see or know him. It’s as close as he dares to get, but just enough to prove that he could be something more . He was forever addicted to chasing that high. 

From then on, Hector's only focus was to take care of them, and in turn, revel in the peace it granted when he was allowed to. Reed liked to keep the apartment at 70, 68 when they slept. He could change this from his control panel, in case they forgot. They opened the windows once a day, in the late afternoon, to change the air. While the window sensors didn't make any noise, he would push a “friendly reminder” to Reed's phone. The way they would lean over the open window, let the wind blow their hair back, and let themselves be wrapped in the curtains left him breathless. Truly, they were a divine vision, and he was just the humble keeper of their temple. 

Reed works from home most days, and the days they go to the office are when Hector tells himself he will, too. Sometimes he even gets earlier those days, puts on a jacket that makes him look more trim. He thinks of how he’ll time his break perfectly. He’ll introduce himself, never tell them about any of this, and they'll become friends organically. It will be… normal. They'll go out with their coworkers. He'll ask Reed out, and they will accept. He won’t be afraid of what Reed will think of him. He will be charming, funny, and romantic. He'll tell Reed how perfect they are and how they deserve the whole world. How he would like to be the one to give it to them. 

Instead, he inevitably finds some flaw. The way he stands isn’t right, his hair is too long, he still stammers when he speaks. No matter how he tries, how good he feels that morning, inevitably every attempt ends up with him seeing himself for who he truly is, and taking himself back to his monitors where he belongs.

One day, though. He’ll do it. Until then, he’ll remain here alone in his dark office, watching Reed stand and eat their dinner at their kitchen counter, just as alone, instead. 

He feels his heart pull to them. Did they think sitting across from that empty chair was just too sad? What would make them feel like starting out into emptiness like this was the proper way to enjoy a meal? They deserved company. In a notebook, already nearly full of musings and doodles of a face he only knew from a distance, he scribbled down half-formed thoughts. If I were there, the table would be set, the lights low. The kitchen would be warm with our affection for each other and- 

His phone lights up, a brilliant and startling rectangle on his dark desk. Hector's brow pinches, he never got notifications. He muted everything unless it was a text or call, and no one did that unexpectedly. His world was curated, quiet, and safe. When he reads the number his heart sank, or soared? No, he felt as if he'd throw up, actually. 

Reed's number, a string he had typed in and promised himself he'd hit send enough times to have memorized it, lit cheerily up at him. 

Hey , you got a second?