#it would be dangerous to even reach out and talk to him

[lostintransist]

Secrets Are For Grown Ups

I am demanding my smooches now.

@beloveds-embrace @cherrycosmos392 @mxtallymarks @love-kha1

CW: Asshole Simon and Johnny using you for sex instead of each other. Calling out someone else's name during sex. Pregnancy mentioned. Death of a spouse mentioned.

Simon slipped. Well. Simon slipped first. Johnny slipped up too. They ruined you, tugging you between them instead of reaching out for the other. You couldn’t fathom them caring. Even now.

If they cared about you they wouldn’t have touched you. You had been twenty-four and still so young. God, you were thirty now and still felt like you didn’t have a handle on life. Johnny had been twenty-nine and Simon thirty-three. Old enough to know better. At least to know better than you.

A series of coincidences led you to a one-year work visa and as an American transfer under the 141 task force. You handled paperwork mostly, and whatever didn’t involve paperwork meant dealing with your counterparts back in DC. You keep slightly funny hours to stay working on Washington time but that wasn’t unusual for anyone else who shared your building. The lights stayed at a low dim all day and night because three pm and three am felt a lot alike when rolling in off a job.

You were a nodding professional with Captain Price, Lieutenant Sanderson, and Sergeant Garrick. Sergeant MacTavish flirted with you. You accepted it with a wary eye and a cool confirmation of what he meant each time. Lieutenant Riley watched. He never spoke to you unless he needed something until the night in the bar. Six months had elapsed on your visa when Gaz, as he had asked you to call him, invited you to the bar with everyone. Seeing no reason to not say yes you had gone.

Off base and with a little buzz in your veins you let Johnny flirt. He insisted on his first name as he sidled up close to you halfway through your first drink. You’d always been wary of Johnny’s flirting. He’s attractive with all the muscles he maintains for work, the air of danger that lingers around him like cologne, and that barely visible scar near his lip. Problem is he knows it. Or at least he knows people react to him with pretty privilege. He makes you laugh. You don’t know why it surprises you, of course, he had to have a good sense of humor to deal with his job.

Lieutenant Riley was watching again. The prickling of your senses that tells you a predator is watching is what gave it away. Staying at the bar smiling at Johnny seemed safer until you had to pee. Passing your cup to the bartender with a quick ‘I’m done with this’ you excuse yourself from the bar and wend your way around the nearly touching tables to find the bathroom.

The narrow wood-paneled hallway had a single bulb shining down on you from a sconce high on the wall. Taking the time to dry your hands completely you pause when you see that the hallway has gone dark. Diffusing light from the main room reaches only so far into the darkness. Scanning you see nothing out of the ordinary and let the crack of light from the bathroom disappear as the door settles closed.

Running the tips of your fingers over the wall, the bumps telling the tales of so many decades of drunken bathroom trips, you touch something that is made of steel and flesh. Jumping back with a squeak you search with your gaze for anything.

“Why does Johnny like you?”

Riley. You let out the breath you had been holding. It’s Lieutenant Riley, not someone who would hurt you.

“You know sir I have no idea. Do you know?” You aimed your voice up.

“I might have an idea.” He surprises you with a touch to your neck. Trailing up to your jaw before dry lips brush against yours.

Stepping back you gave a startled exclamation.

“Ah…uh..Excuse me, Lieutenant, I think I need to go home.”

Skirting around him you flee like a hare that caught the sense of a hawk in the sky. When you retrieve your purse from the chair next to Johnny you find a beautiful woman draped across it talking him up.

“Sorry, I just need my bag,” you said drawing both of their attention to you.

“Ah, bonnie,” Johnny started sadly, “Heading out so soon?”

“Yeah um,” you scratch the back of your head, low near your hairline. “I need to head home.”

Standing he ignored the woman flirting with him entirely.

“Let me walk you home?” He steps too close to you but the body in a chair directly behind your ass keeps you from moving for more space.

Glancing to the storm brewing in the woman’s face you try and redirect him.

“I mean you looked like you were having such a good conversation I’m gonna go wait for a cab. Thank you for the offer though. I will see you at the office tomorrow.” With that you scooted past, unsure how you felt about the full body contact required.

Okay, well your lady bits knew exactly how they felt about it but you as a person? You were unsure. It felt like you had been dropped into a game that you didn’t know the rules of. It continued on like that, them pushing you and breaking your boundaries down one touch at a time until Simon pounded into you from behind in a supply closet. You crept closer to that temporary oblivion when Simon slipped.

A guttural moan washed over your back, Simon’s fingers tightening down on your hips.

“Johnny, oh Johnny!” He came then with Johnny’s name on his lips.

Any chance of an orgasm on your end dried up like a puddle on concrete in direct sun. Simon didn’t notice, pulling out and cleaning up the mess he had made of you before pulling you up and then your underwear. He gave your ass a light tap and planted a kiss at your temple before leaving you to the scent of cleaning supplies.

You worked the day in the eye of a storm. Mentally reaching out to touch your emotions you found only a torrent of fast-moving thoughts and feelings. You made it to your flat before the pressure of the eye wall faulted, crushing you under its weight. The next week you had a hard time eating, focusing, and doing anything outside of work really. Work had you hyper-vigilant always on watch for the spooky silent lieutenant that might try to pull you into a dark room. You didn’t think you could survive another encounter with Johnny’s name on his lips.

Oddly enough Johnny noticed the distress you seemed to be under and took to feeding you. He dropped off a snack at your desk every day and chatted with/at you until you ate it all before disappearing into the bowels of the building again. Three weeks after the Simon incident as you had taken to calling it in your head Johnny had pulled the same shit.

Flat on your back, knees nearly touching your ears he rammed into you. Pleasure crested for you as he could no longer hold on.

“Simon,” the breathy whisper betrayed him. He must have thought you to far gone in your orgasm to hear him.

They had to be fucking kidding you.

Would it hurt less if they were kidding you?

How the hell were you supposed to deal with this happening to you twice?

Johnny pulled out and flopped face down on his bed beside you.

Sitting up slowly you lay a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m gonna use the hall bathroom to go pee. I’ll probably be a minute.”

He grunts his acknowledgment and you set your exit strategy into action. Johnny knew you preferred to put your clothes back on for cuddles if you left the bed for any reason. Grabbing up all of your items you stepped from his bedroom hugging your clothes so tight the zipper of your jeans bit into the side of your breast. Peeing and washing your hands you dressed.

Stepping from the bathroom you called down the hall to Johnny.

“Do you have any cheese or nuts?”

“In the cabinet or the fridge,” came his return call.

Good. He wouldn’t think some odd sounds coming from this direction odd then. Tying your shoes on you open and shut a couple of cupboards and the fridge before rattling the dishes in the dishwasher grabbing your purse and leaving his flat.

Johnny didn’t come after you if he noticed your absence. Arriving home you noted the time. It was four pm on a Friday, Captain Price would still be at the office doing paperwork.

You called him as you started packing.

“Price.”

“Hi, Captain. I am just calling to let you know there has been a family emergency back home and I will be hopping on a plane tonight. I don’t know when this will be resolved. Can you send me any paperwork that I will need to complete so my work visa will close out as it should?”

“I’m sorry to hear about the family emergency, you let me know if you need anything. Your contract will run its course, including the agreed-upon pay, and conclude the day before your visa expires. The only thing you will need to worry about is talking to an accountant out here to figure out your share of taxes to be paid.”

Captain Price had always been like that with you, straightforward and honest. Unlike his men.

“That sounds reasonable and doable. If you have a recommendation of a firm I can reach out to that would be immensely helpful,” you stare at your shoe options, deciding which ones to leave behind since your bag was getting too full with the haphazard way you filled it.

“I don’t have one off the top of my head but I will ask around. Will this number still work?”

“No, this is a UK number that will probably stop working somewhere over the Atlantic. Can you send the info to my work email? I will be able to access that until my visa expires right?”

“That is correct. I will send it there. Safe travels and thank you for all of your hard work with us.”

“Of course, and thank you for being a good captain and a good man to work with.” You ended the call before he could think to question the sentence.

A call to the cab company came next. With the car ordered you left a voicemail for your landlord telling him the same information, family emergency feel free to rent the flat out now. It was a furnished option so nothing here that held an emotional attachment would fit in your suitcase.

The only thing you left behind was a framed photo of you standing with all the guys at a party face down on the table. Anything else you weren’t taking got bagged and sent to the bins.

You cried at the airport, and on the plane, and waiting for your sibling to come and save you from the airport. Telling someone that you had been coming would have been smart, but the only goal was to escape. When they arrived Ash gave you the biggest hug which started your crying all over again. You stayed with them and their partner as you tried to piece your life back together.

Taking the month you still received pay from England you walked the trails of the mountains you called home. They brought you so much peace, like hiding in the skirts of a trusted mother. When you reestablished care with your midwives you found out that your arm implant birth control needed changing, it was overdue. Standard procedure for a well-woman check included peeing in a cup.

“Are you aware that you are pregnant?”

The thin nurse midwife with wrinkles, a long dusty brown braid, and beaded necklaces ringing her neck looked at you from the computer. You must have gone white as a sheet because she reacted by having you lay on the floor, elevating your feet, and calling for assistance. Your uterus had been achy. That’s why you scheduled the appointment.

Pregnant? You weren’t nauseous or overly emotional, only a little tired and achy. This was nothing like being pregnant on TV.

Fuck. That meant Johnny or Simon had to be the father.

Did you even want to keep this pregnancy?

Another nurse with a kind face joined you and your nurse in the room, dragging in a portable ultrasound machine.

“Hi dear, this is a bit of standard procedure. There are a few reasons that a pregnancy test can pop positive. We want to rule out some of the harder-to-care-for options. Do you think we can help you stand and get on the bed?”

At your nod the nice nurses helped you to your feet and held on as you climbed onto the bed, laying back. They had you move your shirt and your pants and undies until the top of your pubes were visible. A grainy image appeared on the screen as the nurse glided the probe to and fro in the slimy gel.

“Alright, this here,” she pointed to a roundish object, “is your left ovary. That looks good. This will help me find your uterus.”

She slid down pressing slightly harder into you.

“Here is your uterus and there looks like one, two little embryos.” She pointed with her finger at each little dot.

“Twins?” you whisper, shocked and aghast.

“That’s what it looks like but things this early can change.” She slid the wand further, “Since we are here I am going to check out your right ovary as well and then we will get you cleaned up and discuss your options.”

The options included waiting, keeping, or a self-managed abortion which included a few prescriptions. They gave you a page of information for each option and sent you on your way with a follow-up appointment scheduled for a few weeks.

In shock, you called your best friend first. Larsen had become your best friend in the second grade and you two had stuck it out through thick and thin.

You told him everything. The entire story. No one else knew everything that had happened. Now Larsen did.

He offered to marry you.

You knew he was good for it. Larsen had never fallen in love, found the idea repulsive. The love you and he held for each other was deep and special, but not romantic. Marriage to Larsen would provide safety and stability, and the ability to change your name before Johnny or Simon could think to look for you. Even if you lost the pregnancy Larsen would be the best roommate and friend you could think of sharing this journey with.

“Yes, but let’s talk this over at dinner.”

The wedding had been a week later in front of a judge, with Ash as your witness and his mother as his.

Larsen never pressured you to make a decision about your pregnancy, simply talked through each option with you again and again until you decided you wanted to keep this gift. Simon and Johnny might have treated you as if they were evil but at least you stole something good from them in the process.

You had two boys growing inside you. To the growing delight of the specialty pregnancy team, you were a rare case of two separate fertilization babies. Distinct sacks and placentas meant two independent babies. Baby A was three weeks further in growth and development than baby B. This idea was confirmed when both boys arrived and looked nothing alike even covered in vernix.

Larsen had chuckled and chided the nurses in the halls for the odd looks you and the boys got. You had five amazing years with Larsen before he died of an aneurysm at work. He left you with a boatload of life insurance and two four-year-old boys who had just lost the only father they had ever known.

The boys knew Larsen didn’t help create them but they were so small it didn’t matter. He was their dad. The first thing you did after picking yourself up off the hospital chair was call and set up therapy for yourself and the boys. You would all need it.

Another two years passed, the boys started kindergarten and you started a cake decorating business from the house Larsen had bought you. You had paid it off with a portion of his death benefits. Everything was looking up. Despite the boys sometimes looking exactly like their genetic fathers, they were the most amazing thing in your life. Life was looking up until the house the bus stopped at went up for sale. Your neighbors mentioned an attractive-looking gay couple bought it and wouldn’t you know they had the best accents? One rang of rainy England and the other of Scotland. They were retired military and were excited for the change of pace this life would bring.

Nope, had to be a coincidence. Couldn’t be them. Why would they move to the States? Why your state of all places? No. Couldn’t be Simon and Johnny, you were still safe from their reach.

Except you weren’t.

They followed the boys home one day from the bus, shocked at seeing a child who looked so much like themselves. When you opened the door, royal icing dried to your cheek, you blanched and slammed the door shut slamming the deadbolt home.

The men that haunted your therapy sessions and the aches of your heart had found you. You and their boys.

Masterlist

[war-of-hormoan]

a touch of silk (m)

You have been working with wolves long enough to recognize trouble the second it walks into the bar but there was something about Jungkook that made you forget everything Namjoon told you about the dangers of lone wolves.

pairing: werewolf!jungkook x f. human!reader genre: werewolf!au, smut, angst with a happy ending word count: 10,160 warnings: language, explicit content (oral and penetrati, non-graphic violence, and mild blood author's note: i posted this on an old tumblr back in 2019/2020 and it has been crossposted on my ao3 since then. i wanted to repost it as i have (after almost five years) have picked writing back up and have decided to continue to work in this universe. i have not edited this since it was originally uploaded. i can't guarantee it still holds up after all these years, but i wanted to post it anyway!

Your dressing room in the back of the club didn’t have any windows, but that didn’t stop the sound of the rain pelting onto the structure of the building from sounding like it was about to burst through the drywall. Night’s like this that made your job difficult as no one would want to leave the comfort of their own warm and dry homes to come to a smoke filled bar to hear you sing. But you were due on stage in 5 minutes and if your performance tonight was cancelled, Namjoon would have popped his head in to tell you to just go home.

So here you are, fixing the red lipstick that had smeared along the edge of your lips after taking a large sip of tea for your throat. You lean towards the illuminated mirror to make sure nothing else on your face was out of place, double checking the bobby pins you had carefully placed to see if they were still secure. It wasn’t like you were much of a dancer, you stood neatly in front of a grand piano for most of your shift, except for the moments when you walk through the crowd in hopes that one of the men who had a little too much to drink felt like leaving you a tip.

You reach down towards the drawers of your vanity, fingers hovering over the handles as you decide which drawer to open. You close your eyes, letting fate decide and open one of the two you had been debating between. It was the first drawer, filled with the flashiest of your stage jewelry. The pair of earrings were covered in crystals and gems that made it seem like a disco ball was hanging from your ears. Some of them were gifts from your fans, given to you in hopes they would somehow get them an “in” with you. As if your love and affection could be bought with something simple as jewelry.

You decide on a simple pair and secure them to your ears. The tips of your fingers brush against the skin of your neck, making you shudder as you remember the way his lips used to kiss the sensitive flesh. You take a deep breath, trying to push the memory to the back of your mind and focus on the reality in front of you.

You look at the time on the clock, it’s hands were pointing to just before showtime. So you disrobe, placing the fluffy pink material onto your vanity bench. Your hands smooth over the ice blue silk fabric in attempts to hide any of the creases that formed when you were sitting down.

There is a soft knock on the door just as there is every night at this moment.

“You can come in.” you call out after hearing a muffled “Y/N?” travel through the door.

Namjoon opens the door just enough to slip through the cracks without exposing anyone to your hideaway. He gives you the once over, running through his own mental checklist to make sure you were dressed for the occasion.

“Are you ready?” he questions, looking at your face through the mirror.

You gesture him to your back to take a look at the bow you had tied with the straps. “Is it even?”

Your friend sighs, recognizing your question was an attempt for him to forget what he was really asking you.

“You’re going to have to talk about it one day, Y/N.” he reminds you as he double knots your bow.

“About what?”

“Him.”

You turn around to face him, trying your best to keep your poker face in tact as it would do you no good if you came apart at the seams just before you were due on stage.

“Not now.” you warn him, squeezing past him to start your shift.

You were surprised at the amount of people in the bar this evening as you were sure the weather would turn the night into a dud but almost every single seat was filled. Yoongi was already sitting at the piano and arranging his sheet music neatly in order even though the set you were about to sing was almost always the same, and he had memorized it long ago.

Involuntarily, your eyes scan for him in the crowd and you are unsure if you want him to be among the faces or not. You know that the entire situation was for the best. And that his presence in your life had only brought trouble. The disappointment you’re feeling doesn’t last long however, as you see the president of the largest cannery in town sitting at a booth with a bunch of his friends that looked like they had taken a shower in cologne.

He would be your target tonight.

You flash a grin to the audience as you make your way onto the stage, making sure they all believed the act you were about to perform.

“Are you ready Yoongi?” you tease in your performance voice.

The pianist nods and starts to play the first song on your list.

By the second song you know you have the president wrapped around your finger. He was leaning forward onto the table, his fingers holding onto the glass of scotch he hadn’t taken a drink from in several songs. It was amusing how easy it was to get them eating out of the palm of your hand. All it took was a combination of eye contact and your hips to send them into a frenzy.

You enjoy watching the way men wrapped themselves around your fingers. Maybe this was the reason you were unable to give yourself fully to someone else, knowing how each of your exes felt about your career. They would be fine at first, completely understanding and accepting of the fact that you flirt with men for a living but then after a few months it would start to turn. They get “protective” but jealousy was all the same no matter what you tried to call it.

So you make a promise to yourself, that as long as you were performing on stage for a living, love would be the last thing on your mind. It was easier that way, at least so you thought.

You reach the point in the night where you engage with the crowd and you step down from the stage and make your way through the crowd, watching as they all hold their breath in hopes they’re the lucky one you chose tonight. He is waiting for you, straightening his posture as you make your way towards his booth, scooting towards the edge so he can get a better look at you. You go through through your calculated motions, making his cheeks deepen with a mixture of alcohol and unfulfilled lust.

He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a crisp bill in the largest sum they make. He slips it between two of his fingers, offering it to you with a smirk on his face like he’s got it in the bag.

“Thank you.” you tease, winking at him with a smile as you grab the money from his hands and slip it into the bust of your dress.

Yoongi rolls his eyes the second the two of you make eye contact as you head back towards the stage, his fingers never leaving the piano.

“I’ll share with you.” you mouth to him, making the pianist wrinkle his nose.

“I’m afraid I only have one song left tonight.” you apologize to the crowd in disbelief yourself that it had already gone by so fast.

The men in the audience protest, encouraging you to keep going.

But your attention isn’t on them as the door to the bar slammed open with a thud.

Jungkook stumbles in from outside. His clothes were soaking wet, sticking to his bones as he makes his way through the crowd. He doesn’t apologize as his limbs crash into other patrons of your work, leaving a trail of men yelling various curses and forms of protest in his path. He was almost to your dressing room when you notice that his shirt used to be white. The button was swirling in shades of crimson.

“Why is he always bleeding?” you think to yourself as you try to remain composed, keeping yourself together as you finish the last song of the night.

“Thank you everyone for coming out tonight!” you smile as Yoongi’s fingers grace the last of the notes on the piano.

The audience around you claps and whistles louder than you deserve and you bow slightly, careful not to expose yourself before heading towards the back of the stage.

“Did you see him?” Yoongi asks just loud enough so that you would be the only one who hears him.

“Yes.” you take his hand as he offers it, holding the skirt of your dress in the other and the two of you head down the stairs in sync.

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“Three months ago.” Almost to the day, not that you were counting.

Yoongi sighs, “Please take care of yourself, Y/N.”

But you wave him off, “I always do.”

You head towards the back of the bar, reaching behind the large oak counter top to grab a few bar towels as you had used the last of the ones in your dressing room to dry yourself off from the elements. Out of the corner of your eye notices the metal first aid kid tucked in between Namjoon’s personal items. You were unsure if the contents of the kit would even be able to help him as it looked like he had been bleeding a lot, but you grab it anyway. Just in case your self-taught skills could come to use.

“Where are you going, beautiful?” a low voice asks you as soon as you start to make your way towards the dressing room.

You turn around to no surprise and see the man who had tipped you earlier in the evening. He is staring at you with dark eyes and you know how he wants you to answer his question. But that wasn’t going to happen, especially when there was a bleeding werewolf in your dressing room.

“I’m off to freshen up.” you smile, drawing out your syllables slowly.

“Would you like company?” he asks right on schedule.

You shake your head. “No boys allowed.”

His eyes flash with lust. “I’m not a boy.”

“I can see that, but this lady needs her privacy for a few moments, alright? Why don’t you let Yoongi make you a strong drink and I will be out shortly, okay?” You put a compromise on the table even though you know you might not be able to hold up your end of the offer.

But it was enough to satisfy the man, and he takes a step back, but before reaching out for your hand to place a gentle kiss on your skin.

You rip your hand out of his and gently wipe your hand on the back of your dress before putting distance between the two of you.

“Come back soon.” he winks, making it almost impossible for you to not visibly gag in front of him.

Every step you took made your heart skip further and further into your throat, feeling as though you could almost choke with anticipation for what is waiting for you on the other side of the door. You stare at your hand reaching out for the door knob, wondering how one part of your body could be more courageous than the rest of it. You close your eyes, taking in a breath as far as your lungs could go and hold it until you start to feel a rush in your head and turn the handle.

Namjoon’s back is the first thing you see once you find the courage to open your eyes. His hands are at his hips, balled into fists as he hovers over Jungkook. His body was hunched over the back of your chair, arms hanging loosely as though the blood loss or alcohol had made him lose total control over his limbs.

“It’s almost a blood moon, Jungkook.” Namjoon growls deep within his chest the second you close the door, locking it just in case any of the patrons decide to give themselves a private tour of your dressing room,

“Do you know what kind of risk you’re putting everyone in this bar in? What kind of risk you’re putting Y/N in? Huh? Or are you so fucking selfish that you don’t care about who’s life you destroy?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer, his gaze remains glued to the ground as if he was trying to summon demons to the hellmouth your town was sitting atop of.

“Don’t worry.” you hear Jungkook eventually mumble. “I’ll be gone soon.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” you question him.

Jungkook looks at you through rain soaked hair. The dark black strands stick to his face, making the werewolf in front of you look even more disheveled than he does on a day to day basis. You must have been the last person to run a pair of scissors through his locks as they were hanging in his face, hiding the scar on his cheekbone. You hated how he looked at you, making you feel vulnerable and raw as one glance could tell him everything he needed to know about how you’re feeling at that very moment.

Namjoon steps aside, pinching the bridge of his nose between frustrated fingertips as he knows exactly how the scene in front of him is going to unfold. He takes a deep breath before looking at you with eyes full of pity.

“Y/N, please don’t forget what happened the last time he stormed in here.” he warns you of that night three months ago.

He had found you curled in a ball underneath your vanity, crying into your dressing gown. You were convinced that night was going to be the last time you ever saw Jeon Jungkook. Three months later, here he was, almost exactly where the two of you had left off.

“I won’t.” you reach out to squeeze your boss’ hand, letting him know that you had it under control and he could leave the two of you alone.

Namjoon hesitates, pressing his tongue into his cheek as he debates whether or not it’s a good idea for him to leave.

“I think that’s your cue to leave.” Jungkook snaps at the older wolf.

Namjoon scowls, looking at the lone wolf in disgust. “You are lucky I didn’t throw you to your former pack the first time you walked into my bar and you’re lucky I’m not going to do that now. If you lay even one finger on her, I’ll know and I’ll make sure that Jimin knows exactly where to find you. Got it?”

The threat makes Jungkook laugh, rolling his eyes at the threat. “Whatever you say, boss.”

“I’m sorry.” you whisper as Namjoon turns around to leave.

“I’ll be right outside.” he tells you, eyes flickering over to the panic button he had installed a year ago. “Jus-”

“Just press the button and you’ll be right in.” you nod your head. “I know the drill.”

One last sigh of disapproval leaves Namjoon’s chest before he leaves the two of you alone, closing the door tightly behind him.

Jungkook’s eyes follow your every move as you make your way towards the large cherry boudoir. You open the bottom drawer, pulling out the large first aid kit you and several pairs of surgical gloves.

“Lean back.” you not so much tell him but push his shoulders back into the chair and push his chin up towards the ceiling.

You try your best to keep the long shaggy hair out of his face, but the blood soaked strands have a mind of their own, forcing you to bring out reinforcements. You wander over to your vanity, opening the top left drawer and pull out a pink ribbon before resuming your place in front of the bleeding wolf.

Silence begins to settle like dust around the two of you as you get to work, pulling on the latex gloves to make sure everything you’re doing is as sanitary as it can be in this situation. You collect the hair on the crown of his head and tie it messily in the pink ribbon, making you laugh at how ridiculous he looked.

“What’s so funny?” Jungkook cocks an eyebrow.

“You look absolutely ridiculous.”

“You should see the other guy.”

That joke was funny the first few times you heard it, but after hearing it hundreds of times, all you can do is sigh.

You ignore it, choosing to give all your attention to the task at hand and pull out the large brown bottle of antiseptic.

Jungkook’s lips press into a thin line as he watches you unscrew the cap and pour the clear liquid onto a cotton swab. He was usually a man of many words and countless brags about how he fucked someone up or how he managed to leave the scene of debauchery without getting caught.

Tonight was different. There was something in the air, bubbling under the surface as it waits for its chance to breach the surface.

He winces as you dab the wound on his eyebrow, cleaning up the excess blood so you assess the damage. It didn’t seem to be very deep, only needing a few stitches and he would be as good as he could get.

“Where did you learn how to do this?” he asks, trying to ease some of the tension that had been growing between you.

“Here. I’ve just had lots of practice over the years.”

“So I’m not the first?“

There is a hint of jealousy in his question, making you roll your eyes as you finish your handiwork, and take a seat on your vanity stool.

"Yoongi was the first.” you take off your gloves, throwing them in the trash before you search through your first aid for the last few items you need.

You can’t help but laugh as the memory of that night plays back in your mind. “It was two, maybe three years ago? I can’t remember, but it was a really slow night. There might have been one or two customers inside the bar all night long. I had given up on my set, so I was seated at the end playing a card game with Namjoon while we tried to pass the time. Maybe an hour before last call a group of very drunk and very obnoxious vampires came crashing into the bar.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “When are vampires ever not obnoxious?”

“Sit still, I’m not done yet.” You hold his head in place “Namjoon let them order one more round before he cut them off, which the youngest didn’t seem to like. The others apologized for his behavior, trying to excuse the fact that he was a brand new vampire on his inability to control his temper. But that just made him more agitated so he started to scream nonsense about how he was perfectly able to take care of himself and he threw his empty blood bottle and it smashed right into Yoongi’s face on the piano.”

You take a deep breath. “It was a complete disaster. The second that newborn smelled Yoongi’s wolf blood, he went ballistic. He tried to drain him and it took every single one of his friends to hold him back. Namjoon kicked all of them out before anything else could happen and banned them from entering. Luckily Yoongi was fine, and it wasn’t anything serious but for whatever reason he refused to go to the hospital and made me stitch him up in my dressing room even though I had no idea what I was doing. And now he has that giant awful scar on his left eyebrow. Haven’t you noticed it?”

Jungkook looks at you as your re-gloved hands rub antibacterial ointment on his stitches and place a band-aid over his wound. “No, you’re the only thing I’ve noticed since the first time I walked in.”

His words catch you off guard, making you slam the lid to your first aid kit shut as you attempt to not let your emotions get the best of you.

“That dress looks amazing on you, by the way. I’m glad I got to see you wear it, if it’s just this once.” he tells you, tracing your body with his pupils.

You look down at the light blue silk, feeling exposed underneath the smooth fabric that covers your body.

────────────────────

It was the first and only time you have ever seen Jungkook while the sun was still hanging in the sky. He showed up at your apartment in the middle of your morning coffee and toast. The loud thud of his fist against your front door made you grab the large baseball bat you kept near the umbrellas just in case. You were ready to swing as you watched the doorknob jiggle back and forth, making you freeze in place.

Whoever it was, had a lot of nerve to break into your apartment in the middle of the afternoon. You raise the bat as if you’re ready to swing the second they cross the threshold. You take a deep breath, closing your eyes as your front door swings open.

“Y/N! What the hell!” Jungkook hisses as he grabs the bat in his palms before you could make a dent in his forehead.

Your eyes open wide. “Jungkook? What the hell! Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?”

“You’re hot when you’re about to get violent.” he teases, using his wolf strength to take the piece of wood out of your hands.

“What the hell are you doing?” you refuse to drop the subject despite his attempts of making you forget by taking you in his arms and kissing down your neck.

“I wanted to see you.” He purrs.

“And you couldn’t have called?”

“I didn’t think you would have answered.” he finds amusement in the goosebumps rising in your skin.

You push the wolf off of you, standing your ground. “I’m not in the mood after the stunt you just pulled.”

“I’m not here to fuck you.” he grins, clearly pleased with himself for getting you worked up.

“Then what are you here for?” you fold your arms across your chest.

“I want to take you somewhere.” he reaches out to take your hand, but you recoil.

“And where is that exactly?”

He leans forward, flashing that boyish grin you hate to love. “It’s a surprise.”

You roll your eyes. “Let me grab my purse.”

Jungkook waits for you by the door like a puppy who just heard the word “walk”. And it was moments like these that made it easy for you to forget what he really was. This was a side he seldom shared, letting it slip through the cracks in bits and pieces before he put his big bad wolf persona back on. A part of you wants to ask him to stay and to never let him out of your sight. That question wouldn’t be fair and you know that. Jungkook wasn’t meant to be tied down, especially not to a human like you.

The feeling that was growing in your heart is cursed but that doesn’t stop you from taking his hand and let him lead you out onto the busy streets.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” you ask him out of breath, barely able to keep up with his large footsteps.

He immediately slows down. “Sorry, we’re running late.”

“Do we have an appointment?” you question as he pulls you closer to his side. The gesture makes you nervous as you wait for his warm to wrap around his waist but the ringing of a bicycle bell brings you back to reality. Jungkook was only making sure you didn’t get run over.

“I’m not telling you.” he teases, nodding his head to the right. “It’s this way.”

He leads you down a busy side street, one you had never walked down on your own. Mostly because it’s length was full of stores that were way out of your bar singer price range. Jungkook stops in front of a large store almost at the end of the street. You stare up at the sign, realizing he had brought you to a dress shop.

“Jungkoo-” you begin to protest but he is already two steps ahead of you and holding the door open for you to follow him.

You feel immediately out of place as soon as you step onto the large marble floor of the store. Everywhere you turn are clothing racks full of dresses you had only seen in editorial spreads in magazines. It took all your strength not to reach out and touch every single one.

Jungkook’s eyes were following your amazement, watching you as you walked passed each rack. “Do you see anything you like?”

“You mean everything?” you laugh, your eyes focused on an emerald green velvet dress.

“You can try it on if you like.” he suggests, catching up to your strides.

“I-I couldn’t.”

“But you can.” he whispers.

“Mr. Jeon Jungkook, look how you’ve grown!” a loud voice calls out suddenly, making the two of you turn around immediately.

A small woman covered in needles, thread and tape measures approaches the two of you. Jungkook greats her warmly, leaning down so she can plant kisses on each of his cheeks.

“Oh! I got lipstick on you.” She starts to wipe off her lip prints but Jungkook waves her off.

“I like them.”

“Wolves like you keep me young.” She smacks him playfully on the chest before turning her attention to you. She looks up at you, pushing her large black glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Now who do we have here?”

“Hello, I’m Y/N.” you smile at her warmly.

She looks at Jungkook with an amused look on her face. “You didn’t tell me she was this pretty.”

Jungkook’s cheeks turn a deep shade of red. This was the first time you had ever seen Jungkook blush and you were enjoying the fact the shoe was on the other foot for once.

“Come with me darling and we can get started.” she begins to pull you by the elbow towards a small podium nestled between a three sided mirror.

She urges you to step up as Jungkook takes a seat in one of the large plush pink chairs. Without another word she starts to take your measurements, reaching from your head to your toe, scribbling them down in a worn out notepad.

“Now what were you thinking as far as the design goes my dear?” she asks, blinking several times through her thick frames.

“I’m sorry?” you ask in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“What about a thin strap and maybe a slit that goes up to here?” she places her finger on your mid-thigh. “Jungkook? What do you think?”

He looks up from his phone, “I’m sure any design you come up with will look great.”

The woman nods her head before handing you a large binder that seemed to weigh almost as much as she did. “Take a look through these swatches and I will be back in just a few minutes, alright my dear?”

You nod before taking a seat next to Jungkook who was furiously typing away on his phone.

“What is this for, Jungkook?” you ask firmly, making him slide his phone into his pocket.

“I just wanted to say thank you.” he stares at you.

“Thank you for what?”

“For taking care of me all this time.”

“Someone has to.” you whisper, looking up to stare at him.

Your eyes locked onto his. His pitch black irises were unreadable as you stared at him. Both of you were unsure where to take it from here. This was uncharted territory after all. The first time the two of you had been outside the confines of your work. You hadn’t even fucked in a bed, yet alone go out in public with each other.

“What do you think about these?” you ask, opening the book of swatches to a random page of fabric.

Jungkook’s chest falls as he exhales, directing his attention to the book in your hands. He points to a swatch of ice blue silk. “That one is pretty.”

“Have you decided, my dear?” the seamstress returns to the dressing room.

You nod, pointing to the swatch of silk. “I think I’ll go with this one.”

A large smile spreads across her face. “Delightful! That color will look amazing on you.” ────────────────────

“This is the first time I’ve worn it.” you admit, looking down at the silk dress, playing with the seam of the large slit in your fingertips.

“Then I have perfect timing.”

“That’s an understatement.” you mutter under your breath.

Jungkook takes a deep breath as if he was pulling your emotions from the air around the two of you. His chest rises as he inhales deeply, preparing himself to face the bitterness in your words.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he finally asks you, pulling out the ribbon from the top of his head.

There is silence as you watch him run his fingers through his hair. The dark strands have started to dry, making him look more like a wolf than a rain soaked puppy. The loose curls that were starting to form were new, but maybe they had always been there and you just never noticed they existed.

You were starting to realize how vast the depth of the unknown was when it came to Jungkook.

“Y/N?” he nudges your knee with his palm.

You stare at him, trying to read between the lines of his features for any sort of clue as to where you should go from here. Yet the longer you stare, the larger the fire in the pit of your stomach grows.

“Do you remember the first time you stumbled into this bar Jungkook?”

“Barely.”

“Well, it wasn’t much different than this. You were so drunk you could barely keep your head up. I remember watching you from the stage as you crashed into one of Namjoon’s pack members. I had never seen Hoseok as angry as he was when you knocked his bourbon out of his hand. I thought he was going to rip your head off before Namjoon could intervene. They were going to toss you in the dumpster in the alley and let the rats eat you, but I begged them to let me look at your injuries, to make sure that you weren’t going to bleed out. Hoseok tried to warn me then that you were bad news, that a lone wolf without a pack could only bring trouble. I think I’ve finally realized now what he meant by that.” you try to hold back the tears as the memories of every single stitch you sewed into Jungkook’s skin threatened to make this ten times harder than it needed to be.

“What are you trying to say?” Jungkook asks, pressing his palms together in the way he always does when he is annoyed.

“Once I finally got you stitched back together, I stepped out to get you some ice water. It was last call so Namjoon was busy behind the bar so I helped him out with a few drinks. I was gone for only a couple of minutes but by the time I got back to my dressing room you were already gone. You had managed to sneak out like a thief in the middle of the night.” you laugh. “I mean, I guess you technically are.”

“I’m not a thief, Y/N.” he corrects you.

“How am I supposed to know that, Jungkook?” you ask, unable to hide the hurt in your voice. “Ever since you stumbled into this bar the first night, everything has been on your terms. You show up when it’s convenient for you and disappear like smoke. If it weren’t for Namjoon and Yoongi, I’m not even sure I would believe that you’re real.”

“I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“But not for long, right? Isn’t that what you told Namjoon?”

You’ve backed him into a corner with your words. He looks at you like he is completely lost, unable to understand the ice in your voice.

“Y/N-” he reaches out towards your hands, making you back away from his reach.

“I don’t want to hear it Jungkook, whatever excuse it is this time.” you sigh. “I just don’t want to hear it.”

Out of the corner of your eye you see Jungkook’s hands tighten into fists, his knuckles go white as he squeezes the tension into his joints. “You know what I do, Y/N.”

“No, Jungkook. I don’t. I barely know anything about you. That’s the entire problem! Everything has been on your terms since the day we met. You come here it’s convenient for you and leave once you’ve had your feel. Have you ever stopped to think about how that makes me feel?”

His lips press into a thin line and you have your answer.

“You’re a selfish son of a bitch.” you shake your head, leaning forward to rest your elbows onto your vanity.

“Do you think I’m doing this because I want to hurt you, Y/N?” his voice comes out like a low whisper.

“If you’re saying you do this to protect me you can walk out right now.” you hiss, staring at him through the mirror.

“What do you want to know?” he asks you, folding his arms into his chest.

“It’s too late.”

Jungkook leans forward and grabs the back of your stool. You wish you had locked the wheels as he pulls you towards him, but you know that wouldn’t be enough to stop him from using his wolf strength.

He spins you around to face him, “Something tells me that’s not true.”

You scoff, crossing your arms before you turn your head to stare at the rack of dresses, wishing you had worn anything other than this.

“I’m not like Yoongi or Namjoon. I wasn’t born a wolf. I didn’t grow up in a pack. I was a human up until three years ago.” he takes a deep breath, his voice shaking as if this was the first time he has ever told anyone else this story.

“What happened?” you ask, turning your attention back to him.

“When I told my dad that I didn’t want anything to do with the spot in his company he had been saving for me since I was born, he kicked me out. I was sleeping on couches, working shitty jobs in the back of restaurants or anywhere that would take me. Eventually I started to work for Heejun down at the shipyard. At first I was only loading and unloading the containers from the ships. I didn’t know what was inside of them, they were all under lock and key. And heavily guarded.”

He takes a deep breath. “I was there really late one night as a ship from Japan had arrived late due to a typhoon. There was something off, a thickness in the air that made Heejun anxious. He didn’t stop pacing until the ship was fully docked and even then he kept checking over his shoulder as if he was worried someone was going to attack him. Eventually they did. We were ambushed as soon as the first container was loaded into the warehouse. The only thing I remember is one second I was talking to Heejun and the next I was flat on my back, bleeding out.”

“When I woke up, everything was different. My vision was sharp. My sense of smell was so strong I could smell the rotting garbage coming from the dumpsters on the street despite the fact that I was six stories up in an apartment. And that’s when I realized that I wasn’t dead, but something had happened to me.” he starts to stutter through the last words.

“Heejun turned you.” finish for him.

Jungkook shakes his head. “No, Heejun and the rest of my coworkers were slaughtered that night. I was turned by the pack who attacked us. I guess there was something about me he liked, so instead of dumping my body into the harbor he decided to turn me at the last second.”

Jungkook lifts the sleeve of his shirt to expose the bite mark you had seen hundreds of times. He watches your hand move slowly from your lap towards the scarred tissue and closes his eyes the moment your fingertips make contact. You trace the jagged outline, barely able to wrap your head around what it must have felt like for him to go through that, alone.

“It’s funny how I was running away from a life I had no control over, but it still ended up that way anyway. I don’t know how much Namjoon has told you about wolves and their packs but you’re under the alpha’s control. You have to listen to every order. Your body obeys every command. If you’re not a top dog, you’re fucked. I was forced to join his company. To earn my living through his business. The containers weren’t full with what the documents said they were. They were full of drugs, weapons, whatever Siwon and his pack could get their hands on in order to make money on the black market.”

“Is that why Namjoon doesn’t like you?”

Jungkook smirks, “I don’t think that’s the only reason. Haven’t you ever seen how he looks at you?”

“We did fuck once, one night after a really busy night and the two of us had way too much to drink. But we both agreed that it was for the best that it never happened again.” You shake your head. “But don’t try to change the subject.”

“I’m not, just pointing out the obvious.”

“Continue.” you encourage him courtly.

“The beef between Siwon and Nmajoon goes way back, before I was ever turned into a wolf. It’s rare for a city of this size to contain two wolf packs. They were one pack at one point, but Siwon wasn’t happy with how Namjoon ran things. He didn’t understand why wolves were forced to work for the enjoyment of men. Eventually they got in a huge fight and Siwon was able to separate himself from the pack although no one came with him. So he started to turn people like me into wolves. And eventually the company and his pack grew into what it was.”

"If they hate each other then why have I never seen Siwon around? He’s never shown up at the bar.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Siwon knew that if he causes trouble he can lose everything. That Namjoon has the connections to take him and his entire operation down. So he kept the peace. The two packs acted like they had no idea the other existed. ”

“So why did you leave?” How did you leave? Namjoon told me it’s almost impossible for a wolf to leave his pack.“

Jungkook chews on his bottom lip. "I killed almost all of them.”

You know enough about pack dynamics to understand the weight of Jungkook’s actions. “ How?”

“We were at the docks, like always, doing Siwon’s bitch work as we waited for a shipment of cocaine. It was one of the largest orders we were receiving so Siwon had almost every single one of us there that night. My pack had a long history of violence, killing anyone they thought was a threat to their operation. That night a woman was out late with her child. The boy must have been no older than two. You could see in her eyes that she was exhausted and that he must not have been able to fall asleep so she brought him out for a late night walk, hoping that would be enough to get him to go to sleep.”

You interrupt him. “I don’t want to know the rest.”

Jungkook nods. “That was when I realized how far I had fallen. I had realized that this wasn’t how I wanted to live my life. I knew that the only way I was going to be able to escape was to kill them. So I did.”

“You did what?”

Jungkook looks at you with a devilish grin. “I killed his entire pack.”

“Is that why you always leave?”

Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow. “I always come back, don’t I?”

You avoid answering his question. "How did you end up in Namjoon’s bar that night?”

Jungkook nods. “I knew this was one of the only places that his mean wouldn’t cross. A lone wolf wasn’t as much of a threat as a whole pack. But I also know that Siwon would eventually seek out his revenge. That he would come looking for me if he knew I was still in town. So I left. I come back when I know he is out of town and leave once he returns.”

“If your paths never cross then how did you end up with his?” You point at the gash on his eyebrow. “Who was it?”

“There was only one thing left for me to do to gain total freedom.”

You look him in the eyes, staring into his dark irises as you finish the rest of his story. “You killed Siwon.”

“I did what I had to do to protect myself. And to protect the things I love.”

You stare at him, trying to keep the beating of your chest silent as you hope you aren’t reading too much into his words.

Jungkook leans forward, a red flashes across his irises, illuminating the black pupils for only a second before the color disappears. You know that he is on the verge of his senses. That soon the two of you will cross a line into territory you had told yourself over and over again that you would not step back into. His breath tickles your neck as he hovers above your sensitive flesh. You take a deep breath, trying to control your body’s urges every time the wolf is this close to you.

"Are you scared of me, Y/N?” he asks, chuckling in amusement as he hears your heartbeat start to race.

“You’re not the baddest wolf I’ve ever met.” you counter, watching in anticipation for his reaction.

He looks at you out of the corner of his eye, hesitating for a second before diverting his attention to your lips. Jungkook’s chapped lips press into yours with a several month long hunger. Each of you starved for the other’s affections as you re-learn how each other moves. Although it doesn’t take long for the first moan to slip from your lips as he uses his sharp canines to nibble onto your bottom lip.

The touch of his skin has always been warm, but in the dead of winter you know you don’t stand a chance. His fingertips trace a pleasurable burn down your body as he runs one hand down your back and uses the other to tangle his fingertips into your hair. Jungkook’s arms wrap around your waist tightly as if he is scared you’ll disappear if he lets go. As if you could do anything else but kiss him back.

“Come here.” he breathes, giving you a chance to breathe as he lifts you out of your chair, keeping a firm grip around your waist as he clears the bottles of skincare and tubes of lipstick off the top of your vanity. It all falls to the floor with a thud, leaving him with enough space to prop you up against the mirror, letting your head fall gently against the glass before he returns to kissing every inch of skin he can reach with his lips.

“You look fucking amazing in that dress.” he growls in his lower register. His hands traveling across the light blue silk as he tries to control the wolf inside of him. He has already ruined too many of your prettiest dresses and he knows you might actually try to kill him if he destroys this one too.

“Well, you are the one who bought it for me.” You remind him, taking in as much oxygen as you can as he moves from your lips to your neck. His kisses trailing the plunging neckline.

Jungkook’s hands make their way down to your thighs and your whole body shudders. He swiftly spreads your thighs far enough apart to allow his body in between your legs.

“Fuck.” you moan at how assertiveness turns you on as he is the only man who can make you compliant. Your body listening to every word he says, reacting to every single touch, he had you under a spell as if you were a wolf and he was the full moon.

“Can I touch you?” his hands hover over the top of the slit, waiting for permission.

“Please.” you breathe, spreading your legs even further apart to make things easier for him to access.

He doesn’t waste a second more before his fingertips find their way to the lacy fabric of your underwear. Jungkook looks down at the light colored fabric, smiling as he traces the floral pattern.

“If you destroy them, I’ll kill you.” You warn, mourning the countless pairs of underwear the wolf had ripped to shreds over the years.

“It looks like you already have.” he teases, as his finger swipes along the damp patch growing at your core.

He teases his calloused fingertips up and down your clothes slit, making you whimper in anticipation for what he is about to do you, as he has done countless times before. But there is something different about tonight. A sense of urgency filling the room as he hastily grabs onto your underwear, pulling them down and off your ankles before discarding them somewhere into the depths of your dressing room.

The dulling ache of your position against the vanity mirror is nothing in comparison to the heat starting to spread across your body. Jungkook’s fingertip has made its way to your clit, teasing the sensitive bud with quick flicks that make your bite, nibble and moan in the werewolf’s mouth. He starts to pull away, but you quickly grip the back of his head with your hand, keeping his mouth close as he wanders down your throat, licking along your pulse.

A loud moan escapes your lips as you feel his canines graze your skin carefully. Jungkook was reckless, but he was smart enough to know better than to bite you, knowing the implications of leaving his mark on your skin. He takes your moment of vulnerability to sink a finger into your center, groaning as he slips the digit in your wet heat. He starts to move his finger back and forth, mimicking the motions of what he wanted to do to you later.

“I don’t have much time.” you warn him, reading his mind as he slips in another finger into you. You would love nothing more than to lay him on his back and fuck until the two of you were a panting mess on the floor, but the night was still young. And as much as you loved fucking the wolf in front of you, you had bills to pay.

Jungkook leans back to look at you, removing his fingers to take a glimpse at the mess he was making out of you. He asks. “Is that a challenge?”

You roll your eyes at the wolf coming out the man. “Are you going to pay my rent?”

“I can, if you let me.” he scoffs.

You reach out towards his shirt, pulling him as closely as you can. “Touch me.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

Jungkook pushes your legs a part, staring into your eyes as he inserts two of his fingers back into you. He revels in the way you close your eyes, letting your head fall back against the mirror as he fucks you with his digits. He knows your body like a map, knowing where and when to apply pressure that makes you see stars behind your eyelids. You used to be ashamed at how easily he unraveled you with just a fingertip, blushing at how easily he made you come undone. But it had been months and you had missed this (although you would never admit it out loud).

“Fuck!” slips out of your lips as he uses his thumb to apply pressure to your clit, rubbing circles on the sensitive bud as he continues to fuck you into bliss with his hand.

“Come on, baby.” He encourages, recognizing the change in your breathing pattern. He quickens his speed, allowing his muscles to take over as he fucks you closer and closer to the edge.

“I’m gonna cum!” You breathe, rolling your hips to take his fingers in as far as they can and it all becomes too much. You turn into a gasping mess as you grips onto the wolf’s shoulders, bracing yourself as waves of pleasure take over your body. Jungkook’s fingers refusing to stop until the last one finally settles in your toes.

“Come with me.” Jungkook whispers as he rests his forehead against yours.

You laugh. “I’m pretty sure I just did.”

The werewolf shakes his head. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what do you mean, Jungkook?” You ask him for clarification.

“Tonight. Come with me tonight. Leave with me.” There is a desperation in his voice that shocks you, making you realize that even throughout all the times you have stitched up the man in front of you, you had never seen him this vulnerable.

You reach up towards the mess of dark waves on his head and run your fingers through the strands, gently pulling out the knots that somehow always seem to form. The growing silence between the two of you is your answer, but you know you need to say it out loud. “Jungkook, I can’t.”

His eyes flutter open, staring into your soul with their dark irises. “Why not?”

“I have a job!” You cannot hide the frustration in your voice. “I have an apartment. My friends are here. I can’t just leave them Jungkook.”

“I will pay to have someone pack up your things, to ship them to wherever we end up. Or I can just fucking buy you new things.” He starts to plead.

“Jungkoo-”

“Please, Y/N. Please let me protect you. Let me take care of you.”

You wrestle your wrist out of Jungkook’s grip, neither one of you realizing he had a hold on you. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, choosing to focus on the rack of dresses in the corner instead. You blink several times, refusing to let the wolf see you cry over him.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” He asks in defeat, sinking back down into the chair you had stitched him up in.

The truth is, you want you. You want more than anything to believe that he would take care of you. That he would be able to keep you safe from the constant supernatural threats that have entered your life since the moment you stepped foot into this shitty seaside town. Except the responsible part of your brain was screaming at you to remember Namjoon, Yoongi, and the rest of the wolves you had in your life that kept you out of harm’s way the second Jungkook disappeared again. You had a life here, and while it may not be much on paper, you loved it.

“I don’t know what to say.” You admit out loud.

Jungkook immediately stands up. “You don’t have to say anything. I-I-I just thoug-.”

“I’m surprised you thought I would go with you, Jungkook. How am I supposed to believe anything you ever say to me? How much time have we actually spent together outside of this room? How many times have you told me you would come back only to disappear again. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel? How worried I get about you? I am terrified that one day you’re going to end up dead and I am only going to find out about it months later. So how can you expect me to just drop my entire life and run away with you?”

He turns away, giving you the cold shoulder as he can’t bring himself to answer your question. His shoulders shudder slightly and for a second you think the wolf in front of you is crying. But Jungkook quickly turns around without a tear in sight. The warmth in his eyes were gone, leaving nothing but blank empty spaces in his irises.

He was shutting down.

“I guess that’s it then.” He tells you coldly, straightening his back to remind you how much taller he is.

“Jungkoo-”

He interrupts you. “I don’t want to hear it. I think you have made your feelings clear. I apologize for everything I put you through, but after tonight I won’t bother you ever again.”

You clamp your mouth shut as you watch him dig through the pockets of his pants. He hands over a small purple velvet pouch. “Take it.”

The taste of blood fills your mouth as you bite the inside of your cheek as you try to distract yourself from the pain filling in your chest as you take it from his hands. You open it, revealing a silver chain and pendant. A heart shaped locket hung at the end of the chain, but it was too wide to be an ordinary locket.

“You don’t have to open it.” He tells you just as your fingertips reached for the hinge. “It’s full of herbs that will keep you safe. Vampires, demons, witches. Even wolves.”

You can feel the tears start to break from your bottom lash line. “Thank you.”

Jungkook shrugs. “It’s the least I can do, after everything I have put you through. Please, take care of yourself, Y/N.”

The sound of his footsteps are the final straw and you feel your heart break into a thousand pieces as he closes the door behind you, leaving you alone to pick up the pieces once again.

You don’t know how much time has passed or how many tears you have cried before you can finally feel the pain in your chest turn into a dull ache. You sniffle, reaching towards the tissues to wipe the mascara tears away from your cheeks. If you go back out into the bar Namjoon and everyone else will know you’ve been crying. That tonight is just like every other night when Jungkook was involved.

With a deep breath you try to pull yourself together. You powder your face and touch up your lipstick before running your fingers back through your hair and putting each strand back into place. You don’t bother trying to find the underwear you had been wearing, choosing instead to pick a fresh pair from the stock you kept in your vanity. It was after the third time you and Jungkook had slept together that you realized you needed to keep extra clothing in stock as he couldn’t always keep the wolf inside of him in check.

You turn around, taking your time as you look around the dressing room. There was nothing that he hadn’t touched. That didn’t have a memory attached to the man that had just walked out of your life for the last time.

What really was keeping you here? The seaside town was never meant to become your home. It was supposed to be temporary. A place where you could find your footing after leaving college. You were only supposed to stay for a few months, but then it became a few years. Sure, you loved your job. Namjoon, Yoongi, and the rest of the boys took care of you. They made sure you had what you needed but there wasn’t room for growth. It’s not like you could get promoted. This is all there was. And you knew that.

Maybe it was time for you to leave, for you to figure out what the hell was out there in the rest of the world.

“God damn it, Jungkook.” You mutter under your breath.

You lift the light blue silk off your frame and quickly change into your every day clothes. Your fingers fumble with the buttons of your jeans as you try to get them on. The sweater gets stuck on your head, making you question if this was the universe telling you to stay in place.

You take a look around your dressing room, trying to figure out if there was anything else you couldn’t leave without. You yank a few dressed off the hangers, shoving them and the light blue dress into your bag that becomes full to the brim.

“That’s it.” You say goodbye to the room, smiling at all the memories you’ll hold dear in your heart.

As soon as you open the door and step out into the bar, now full to the brim with customers, you make eye contact with Namjoon. The glass he was washing in his hand comes to stand still as the two of you stare at each other from across the room. He shakes his head knowingly, telling you in his own way that he knows exactly what you’re doing and just wants you to be safe.

“If he hurts a single hair on your body, I’ll gut him alive.” Yoongi whispers as he walks past towards his piano.

“You and me both.” You smile before weaving your way through the crowd and out the door.

The rain had stopped, leaving behind puddles and pavement that that reflected the dim street lights. The smell of smoke drifts through the night breeze from the docks and Jungkook’s handiwork. You hope that there wasn’t too much damage to the piers surrounding Siwon’s. Those people didn’t deserve to have their source of income damaged. They were innocent.

You look around, trying to figure out what direction the wolf could have gone. It certainly wasn’t towards the dock, so you turn around and walk in the opposite direction. You steps quicken as you cross every deserted street. There was no one around, not a single wolf in sight. You reach the end stretch of town and have to make a decision. You can turn left and go home or you can turn right and see what lies ahead of you on the outskirts.

The overwhelming fear of being too late rises in your chest and you hope that this wasn’t the case. You back a decision and turn towards the right and immediately slam into what feels like a brick wall.

“Why are you walking home late at night, by yourself? Have I not told you a hundred times to be smart?” Jungkook growls.

“I was looking for you, you asshole!” you cross your arms in front of your chest.

“Why? So you can tell me how fucking terrible I am?” Bitterness lace his words.

You smack him as hard as you can in the chest, but his body barely moves. “Jeon Jungkook, if you ever leave me like that again, I am going to gut you myself!”

“Okay, Yoongi.” The wolf rolls his eyes before finally processing the words you had just said. He takes a step closer to you, hesitantly reaching out to hold your waist. “What did you just say?”

You stare at him, reaching up to brush his hair out of his face. “I said that if you ever leave me like that again, I am going to gut you myself.”

He presses his forehead against yours. “I promise, I won’t.”

You take a deep breath. “I want to believe you, Jungkook. I really do.”

“I’ll prove it to you.” He pulls you in closer, unable to hide the eagerness in his voice.

“Please don’t make me regret this, Jungkook. Please don’t make me regret falling in love with you.” You stare back at him.

“I won’t. I love you too much to ever let you out of my sight.” he places a gentle kiss on your lips before whispering. “Now where do you want to go?”

You take a second to think as a gust of cold air sends a shiver through your spine and gives you your answer. “Somewhere warm.”

Jungkook smiles. “I think I know the perfect place.”

[toutallyahoe]

━ hebrews 9:22 ,, mouthwashing

requested by: –

pairing(s): curly x male reader

word count: 1856

warnings: canon spoilers, cursing, character death(s), attempted murder, murder, deaths oh my god so many deaths help, j*mmy (ew 🤮)

a/n: yeah, im surprised it aint porn too

"Indeed, under the law almost everything is purified with blood..."

Pained laboured breaths left what was once a hopeful man's lips. Well, hopeful was far from what he had become over the years, crippled by the trials and tribulations of what life had put onto him— yet he persevered despite the doubts that ate him whole. Curly persevered despite it all...

But does he still want that?

Laying in the Medical Room's bed without any control of his own body— burnt body— without feeling any sort of pain that he wished he would just die was difficult. Even breathing was difficult but he was forced to do so. Forced to endure. But Curly wanted to die. More than he had wished in the past... but he can't. Forced to lay in bed, feeling helpless as he watched his crew... his friends... descend into madness.

If he could cry, Curly would. The pain of his entire body doesn't hurt as much as the pain and guilt in his chest. Well, Curly thinks so. He doesn't know if the pain in his chest is the guilt of eating him or just the normal pain of being burnt alive to the point his skin is gone. But Curly still felt sick and hopeless. So despaired by it all. Because despite being forced to lay in bed and watch helplessly as everyone descended into madness, Curly knew it was his fault. And it eats him up.

Anya had already said her good bye after she locked herself in the Medical Room with him. Saying how despite everything he had done (or lack there of), she forgave him. Curly tried to talk, to reach out but all it came was garbled mess of croaks and pained wheezes as his throat hurts from the pain. Curly had to watch helplessly as she finally decided to escape the nightmare that came to the Tuplar crew of the Pony Express... to them.

The pain in his chest worsened as Curly could hear a pained screaming echoing throughout the room and it took a second for him to realize who the screamer was. But once Curly realized, his heart dropped as he wanted to cry more. Daisuke showed up in his peripheral vision, looking worse for wear since he had last seen the younger man. Curly wants to cry harder seeing Daisuke all bloodied and hurt, with so many cuts and gashes as Curly realized that in order for Daisuke to come inside the Medical Room despite Anya locking it, it was through the vents that were connected to the Utility Room. The same vents Curly knew was dangerous... fuck.

Curly had believed in the past he was a good captain. The crew in Tuplar sang his praises after all to the point Jimmy always mentions how annoying it was. Curly would have brushed it off like all the times but he knew deep inside he did feel a sense of fulfillment to be called that. A good captain. Because it made him feel like he was actually doing something worthwhile with his life.

But he doesn't believe that anymore.

How can he? Failing Anya despite the trust she placed on him to confess what his friend— what Jimmy had done to her? Where did she have to take things in her own hands? Failing Daisuke from Jimmy's manipulation that the poor young man is now crying from the pain of his injuries as well as he was screaming at Anya to wake up? Failing Swansea where he had to watch the older man lose himself to the little bits of alcohol in the Dragon's Breath mouthwash they were delivering? And worst yet... failing you as he watches the happy man descend into despair along with the crew.

Curly felt useless as he laid there motionless and despaired in bed. He can hear Swansea cursing out as he and Jimmy dragging out Daisuke who was moaning and groaning in pain. He didn't hear Anya anymore... will never hear her voice ever again.

It all was a blur. Time passed by so quickly... not that Curly knows how long it had been. The pain made it hard to focus on his surroundings but he saw someone standing in front of the medical bed. Curly let out a pained croak when he saw it was you. The one who used to be a picture image of a calm and collected crew member of his who had bright eyes that looked at him with love and respect looked frantic yet oh so tired as your dull eyes are red and puffy from crying, tear stains on your sunken cheeks. Lips quivering as you looked down at Curly. There was panic and mania in your eyes. Curly dreaded it.

"Let's rest now," You said, your tone shaky and raspy. You bite your bottom lip to stop your lips from quivering until you tasted blood that grounded you a little bit. "We can rest now, right?" You asked as tears brimmed your vision on what you were about to do. You looked at Curly and gave a smile. A smile that Curly knew was far from genuine. It didn't reach your eyes. Not the same sweet smile you would send him when you two would wake up early in the morning, in bed together. Far from the one Curly is used too. It looks despaired, haunting...

Curly tried to talk, to reach out. But just like Anya, he failed. Like he always does.

"!!!"

Curly wanted to cry when he felt your hands wrapped around his throat. He wheezes in pain as his body thrashes automatically when you squeezed. It hurts! It hurts— but let him die! There were salty tears falling down his bandaged cheek, stinging him as he could see you finally breakdown. Losing it all.

"We can go together! Everyone is gone so let's go together like you said!" You said as a deranged laugh left your lips. "Aren't we in this together, captain? We can rest!" You put more pressure down Curly's throat.

"Please, just stop suffering already!" You wailed as your entire body was shaking. You desperately tried to tune out Curly's pained noises and thrashing as you sobbed. You didn't want to do this— but you had too. No one else was going to put Curly out of his misery. No one is giving your poor captain mercy.

Anya already died, her rotting corpse was beside you, slumped over the floor. Daisuke had his head split open by an axe by Swansea. You were there to witness Swansea put down the young man. You already knew Swansea was dead somewhere around the ship. Especially when you had heard two loud gun shots rang out eerily inside the Tulpar— Jimmy was fucking insane! You knew that oh too well as you watched that monster descend to madness.

You knew you only had so little time to do what you needed to do. To finally put Curly out of his misery because you knew Jimmy wouldn't. You can accept whatever responsibility is left when Curly is gone. Whether Jimmy kills you with a gun or you having time to get the axe and kill Jimmy yourself... it'll be fine as long as you take Curly out of his misery first. Because Curly deserves it.

"Please wait for me," You cried as you looked at Curly through your tears. "I'll be close behind, okay?" You say as you smiled. The blood from your bruised bottom lip stuck to your teeth as you smiled. You look deranged but Curly could only admire you. He wanted this. He wanted to die— to have the suffering end already. Curly just wished it didn't have to be you to put him down knowing how much you loved him.

"I love you," Curly heard you sobbed as black spots formed in his vision. Curly already had trouble breathing after the crash but he can barely gasp for air, not with your hands on his throat, trying so hard to kill him. Slowly, Curly's body stopped thrashing, too weak as the black spots continued on to fill his vision. He can barely see your broken face now.

He was going to die. Curly was going to die... and that's fine.

Curly just hoped you won't suffer painfully before you both are reunited once again in the after life. Hah, when did he even believe in an after life? Curly lost hope of a god existing so many years ago. But if there was a god, Curly hoped they would be kind enough to let him see you again after this. To see the others too. But mostly... Curly just wants to see you—

Bang

Thud

Curly let out a painful gasp as his lungs burned while greedily took a lot of air to fill it back up. His throat hurts so much. If he could tear up, Curly knows he would with his one singular eye left from the pain. Everything hurts. Fuck. It hurts...

Wait.

Pain... was pain part of death? Living was painful and Curly thought death would be more welcoming. Curly would have thought it would be peaceful like when the air was deprived from his lungs as you strangled him. When Curly knew he was dying as his vision darkened. You— where were you? Why was Curly's head ringing so loudly? Was... was he still alive?

Why... why was he still alive?

Why?

Why?

Why?!?

Didn't you promise to take him out of his misery? Was it all a lie? But the pain— the pain in his throat was real! Curly swore it! Where were you? Where were you?!? What happened?!?

Curly found his answer when he saw a shadowy figure where you once stood. Where you should be. And seeing the face of the figure, Curly wanted to cry and scream. Wanted to yell until his throat was raw and burned. Curly wanted to thrash his burnt body and cry.

But he can't. Curly can't...

"It's okay, I saved you," Curly heard Jimmy say. Curly wanted to bitterly laugh at his words. Jimmy didn't save him. Far from it. Jimmy depraved him from his peace! What more can Jimmy take away from him?!? Where were you?!?

Curly could only let the man whom he used to call a friend carry him without much of a fight as he was tired and still processing what everything just happened, wondering where you should have been. Did you chicken out on killing him? Was your love for him too much to kill him? Then where were you then?

Curly looked at Jimmy with dull eyes as he was carried away from the Medical Room. You were nowhere in sight— until Curly saw you... dead on the ground with a puddle of blood around your head... no. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO—

"Don't worry, Curly. I'll fix this..."

"And without the shedding of blood... there is no forgiveness of sin..."

[s0rr3l]

@blackknight-kai @jeminiikrystal @marcu-bug @dunanana @maiden-of-the-waters @rovobeam

relationship chart! Idea from @szynkaaa 's post here

Big Spoon/Little Spoon

Depends on the mood; they like to switch but Yēzi prefers being the Big Spoon

Lǐyú likes to hide their face in monkey's back cause they get embarassed how easily their face flushes

Lends Clothes/Borrows Clothes

Yēzi is more likely to procure clothing in Lǐyú's size then lend his own

But he does buy more oversized clothing when he realises they both can share it (thus scents intermingle together ❤️)

Monkey See Monkey Do AU - both Lǐyú and Yēzi share clothes, because Lǐyú loves oversized clothing)

Doesn't Use Pet Names/Uses Pet Names

Both of them don't really care, though they don't mind nicknames from friends/family

Besides, they have other ways to tease each other besides nicknames 🤭

Introverted/Extroverted

Yēzi is actually NOT that introverted! He's more of an Ambivert

Doesn't mind having company even if he doesn't do a lot of talking

Lǐyú, while they can talk and handle social stuff, would rather prefer quieter company

Affection Through Words/Affection Through Actions

Both are physically affectionate, even if Lǐyú has to wrack up the nerve to reach out

Yēzi tries to be respectful of Lǐyú's personal space (since they brought up how uncomfortable it was to have it invaded so easily)

But over time monkey learns to read Lǐyú well enough to know what kind of touch they can tolerate, and vice versa 😊

Confesses First/Waits for Confession

CHAPTER 6 CONFESSION

Liyu had realised their feelings early on but doesn’t confess, mainly because they realised how futile/unfair it would be to each other since they’re going back to their own world

just resigns themselves to pining

Yēzi is oblivious to his own feelings until post-chap 5 (and he falls hard- but also realises that it’s a little too late 🥲)

So he settles for a promise (the red string) to make sure they don’t forget him

Screams about Bugs/Squashes Bug With A Shoe

Lǐyú is usually cool with bugs (from a distance)

Yēzi loves to tease them though, so will sneak a bug or two onto their belongings, just to watch them squeal

He is also more than willing to squash a bug for Lǐyú

Drives the Car/Can't Drive lol

Cars don't exist in ancient fantasy china lmao

By default Lǐyú drives

(Besides Monkey would HATE automobiles)

Can't Cook For Shit/Makes Dinner

Yēzi is a gatherer and and sucks at cooking

Ok so he's not BAD, he just has no patience for it

The best dish Lǐyú can make is shrimp friend rice

Everything else they are average at best

When they were dumped into BMW-verse they couldn't cook for shit and had to learn

Both of them would rather mooch off others/eat out

Dislikes PDA/Loves PDA

Lǐyú gets soooo flustered about it (in the beginning)

But then they realise how much Yēzi enjoys it/doesn't care about the opinions of others

Still a little shy about it, but otherwise enjoys it

Yēzi REVELS in it 🥰

Loves PDA even if he's not loud or flashy about it

A holdover from their time journeying through dangerous areas, monkey will find a way to keep touching Lǐyú, either through hand or tail

Overprotective/Chill Going

Yēzi can get a bit overprotective/smothering because he underestimates Lǐyú's overall uh

Toughness

No worries he learms soon enough that his travel buddy can hold out well enough

(At least until he can get there)

Lǐyú's more fussy than overprotective, until someone is rude to their Monkey

Then all bets are off

Has More Relationship Experience/Has NO Relationship Experience

Lǐyú is a certified Unrequited Love expert. Good at pining from afar, terrible luck with confessions 💔

That being said they've also been in a romantic relationship, which is more than monkey can say

Yēzi is so out of touch with his own feelings that he didn't realise he was in love with Lǐyú until they confess first

[inmyheaddd]

beneath the same stars - averyjameson

summary: avery’s mind is flooded with doubts about the hawthorne house, and thoughts that she hasn’t told anyone. somehow, she finds herself confiding in jameson hawthorne. a/n: aww baby averyjameson :( this takes place before they are officially together / between tig/thl (jameson is sooo down bad omg) wc: 1.8k

the rooftop wasn’t her favorite spot, but it was his, and tonight, avery didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts. 

after avery had climbed up very cautiously, she noticed jameson sitting dangerously close to the edge, sitting with his legs dangling off, without a care in the world. 

the wind rippled through his half-buttoned white shirt, and he turned around right as avery neared, sending her one of those grins that made her brain feel light, and kept his eyes on her right until she sat next to him.

she forced herself to ignore it, “you could’ve told me you were coming up here,” she said, settling down a few feet away— close, but not too close. and much further away from the edge.

he analyzed the way she looked from where she sat, before looking back at the sky infront of him. “figured you’d find me anyway.”

jameson reached over to the other side of him, then held out a recently opened bar of dark chocolate to avery. 

she stared at the chocolate for a second before taking it. 

“i hate that you’re actually right sometimes.” she didn’t eat the chocolate right away, and just stared at the floor. 

jameson looked intrigued. “careful, mystery girl, that almost sounded like a compliment.” he grinned, but his tone was softer than usual. he could sense something was up with avery. 

he gave her a long look, then eyed the distance between them, asking a silent question. 

avery gave a slight nod, and jameson moved to sit beside her. shoulders nearly touching, so close jameson could practically hear her mind whirring. 

they sat like that for a while, the silence stretching but not breaking. avery could hear the soft rustle of the wind through the trees, and the sound of cars far away. 

it made her think of how different this was to her life just a few months ago. nearly nothing was the same.

“sometimes,” she said suddenly, trailing off with her voice barely audible. “sometimes i think about leaving,” she exhaled a deep breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

jameson turned his head slightly, but not all the way. “leaving hawthorne house?”

“yeah.” she picked at the wrapper of the chocolate, tearing it into smaller and smaller and smaller pieces. “the house. the money. all of it.”

“would you, though?” his tone was careful, which is a word that was almost never used to describe anything about jameson. but with her, he was careful. 

avery shrugged. “i don’t know. i mean, it’s too late, right? there’s people who want the worst for me. without oren and everything, i’d be in danger.” she looked at her lap, mumbling quietly and trying to sound detached. 

she couldn’t tear the small pieces of wrapper any more, so fiddled with her fingers instead. 

“isn’t that crazy?” she chuckled as she set her hands down back in her lap, but it sounded hollow. “people i don’t even know, people who know nothing about me, who want to harm me. or— or people that know too much about me, or people that knew your grandfather, or—“  she cut her nervous rambling off with a sigh, tucking her hair behind her ears.

she couldn’t believe what her life was now. this was the first time she was really confiding to anyone other than libby or max about these thoughts she’s been having, about the huge what ifs. 

jameson observed her quietly. he wanted to reach out, but he didn’t know if it was alright to do that yet. 

for some reason that avery couldn’t quite pinpoint, she felt like she could actually talk to him.  “i just— sometimes i wonder if i should’ve left sooner. or just never have come. then i wouldn’t have to deal with all of this.” 

she crossed her arms over her chest as the wind got stronger, and pulled her shirts sleeves over her hands. “it just kind of feels like i don’t belong here, no matter what i do.”

jameson was oddly silent for a moment, and slowly tore his gaze away from avery and back to the sky that was beginning to set. 

avery quickly began to worry— did she over-share? she definitely overshared, she didn’t even know jameson all that well. why was he so silent? why on earth did she—

“you’re wrong about that,” jameson finally said.

avery’s thoughts were put to a halt. “about what?”

“saying you don’t belong.” he answered, “you belong more than any of us, look at you, heiress. you’re incredibly intelligent in all aspects. in your first few days, you solved the keys faster than anyone else. the house could do with a few more complicated geniuses. ” he sent her a small grin, “maybe you belong more than you’d like to admit. 

avery shook her head and looked away, the wind whipping through her hair. “i don’t know, jameson. sure, i solved them faster, but that doesn’t mean anything, not really.” she said, “and i’m not complicated.”

jameson raised a brow.

she narrowed her eyes, “what’s that supposed to mean?

“whatever you want it to mean, heiress.” he said through a chuckle. “i’m just saying, i didn’t call you mystery girl for no reason.”

“you barely even call me that anymore.” avery said before she could even think.

jameson grinned, “why, you miss it?”

“absolutely not.” avery shook heir head, fighting a small smile. jameson didn’t say anything else as he watched her. he could sense there was something else waiting to be asked.

avery’s smile faded, and she pressed her lips together as she formulated her words. “jameson?”

“yes, heiress?”

“you always seem so sure of yourself. don’t you ever think you’re doing the wrong thing— like, making the wrong choices?”

a smile finally reappeared on jamesons face, and avery realized that she had missed seeing it. the thing is though, the smile wasn’t like his usual one, it was almost like one of those bitter ones. 

his head was tilted up with his adam’s apple on full view, “all the damn time,” he said, a slight shake of his head as he looked up at the sky. 

avery got the feeling that there was a lot more to jameson hawthorne than what she had thought originally. “and, what do you do about it?” she stayed looking at him, even when he wasn’t looking at her. 

he chuckled lowly, gaze still up at the sky.“nothing.” 

that answer didn’t surprise avery in the slightest. she hummed, “nothing at all?” 

“nothing at all, heiress.”

“nothing at all,” she nodded as she repeated quietly, as if she was tasting the words on her lips. 

he nudged her shoulder gently, that one cheshire grin finally back on his face. “you got it.” 

avery’s face broke into a small smile despite herself, and jamesons grin only widened. 

“why do you come up here so much?”

“you have a lot of questions today.”

she looked back at her lap, “sorry, i didn’t mean to—“

“don’t apologize,” he cut in. “i’d answer anything you ask.” he sent her one of those joking grins, but it didn’t feel like a joke. “to answer your question, mystery girl, its because i can see everything from up here.” 

that’s all he said, but there was more to it. he would come here to think— he always had since he was a kid. jameson was told he wasn’t as creative as his brothers, wasn’t as determined, wasn’t as talented. 

he would literally come up here to see the bigger picture— look for more possibilities, more answers, and then he could maybe find who he really was.

avery looked ahead at the landscape infront of her, her fingers playing with the torn chocolate wrapper. she hadn’t even taken a single bite.

“sometimes,” jameson continued softly, breaking the quiet, “i think this is the only place that makes sense.”

she turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “a rooftop?”

“not just any rooftop, heiress,” he said, a lazy grin tugging at his lips. “this one. and as a bonus, thisview.” he tilted his head toward her, his meaning unmistakable.

her heart stuttered, and she hated how he always managed to do that. “you’re so strange,” she muttered, but the corners of her mouth betrayed her with a smile.

he shrugged, “i try.” he said as he leant back on his hands behind him. 

avery let the silence stretch, also leaning back slightly to take in the view. 

the sky was bruised with shades of deep blue and purple now, stars faintly visible against the last streaks of orange. 

she felt the weight of jameson’s presence beside her, solid and steady, even as her thoughts spun.

but then movement caught her eye. down below, the gravel driveway lit up with headlights as a sleek black car rolled to a stop.

her chest tightened when she saw who stepped out. oren, his stance sharp and alert as always. then alisa, perfectly composed, her phone already in her hand. and finally—grayson.

he adjusted his jacket as he stepped out, his expression unreadable, the way it always was. 

he said something to alisa that avery couldn’t hear, and she watched as they moved toward the house together.

she didn’t know why, but the sight made her stomach twist. she hoped jameson didn’t see the way her shoulders tensed. 

“looks like the cavalry’s back,” jameson said casually, his voice pulling her back to the present. 

he’d noticed them too, of course.

avery and jameson shared a look. yes, he sounded casual, and he did try to put on an expression of nonchalance, but avery saw through it.

just like how he saw through her constant attempts of looking unfazed. 

avery looked away, then exhaled. “i should probably go.”

jameson didn’t move. he stayed sitting, leaning back on his hands, his gaze flicking from the driveway to her. “are you in trouble, heiress?”

“i never even know when i am,” she said, smiling already. “that shared look on alisa and oren’s is never a good sign, though.” she said as she looked down at him.

“are my reckless antics rubbing off on you?” he narrowed his eyes jokingly, tilting his head. 

“no. in your dreams.” she let out a chuckle, and jameson loved the sound. when she spoke again, her voice was quiter. 

she tried to make it sound like a joke though. “i just can’t seem to make the right choices recently. i’m always doing the wrong thing.” she admitted, “i mean, according to alisa.” 

he gave her a slight shake of his head, “it’s impossible to fully get it right with alisa. don’t lose your mind over it.” he told her, “nobody would know what to do if they were in your situation, and i highly doubt anybody could possibly handle this as well as you.” 

“i… .” she trailed off, unsure on how to respond, “yeah, alisa can be hard to please, i guess. ”  

she chose not to comment on anything else. she tried to keep her expression blank, like his words didn’t make her heart accelerate 10x faster.

jameson could tell she still wouldn’t believe the words he had said, how she was handling things, but he didn’t press the matter any longer.

“goodnight, then, heiress.” jameson gave her that lazy half-grin of his.

she hesitated for half a second, then she said “night, jameson.” 

then she turned and climbed back down the way she’d come.

when she was gone, jameson shifted to sit where she’d been, still close to the edge but not quite at it. the bar of dark chocolate lay on the ground forgotten, and he stared out at the horizon, now dotted with stars.

the rooftop felt bigger without her, quieter in a way he didn’t really like. but jameson stayed there, legs dangling over the edge, like he always did. 

jameson stared out into the sky and wondered— when had avery become not just part of the view; but part of the reason he kept looking?

tag list: @x-liv25-jamieswife @wish-i-were-heather @thecircularlibrary @whatsamongus @littlemissmentallyunstable

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@danni-1-graysons-version

[jules-ln]

Ok, so I can't stop thinking about Viktor in Arcane lmao

Not so much because I like him (which I do lmao) but more because his arc seems like convoluted mess of knots at first glance, and I don't understand it completely and I need to put this puzzle together

Also, honestly Arcane it's the perfect case for why "show, don't tell" isn't always good as it left a lot of things incredibly vague, things I think they should've stopped and clarify more

So let me take his character apart from the beginning to understand him

Spoilers btw

First I want to talk about Viktor's disability because apparently it was a big deal

I say apparently because at first I thought it wasn't a big deal for Viktor, it was just part of who he was

Like the first time we see him, he's confident, he seems secure in himself and the show itself doesn't seem to make a big deal out of him using his cane

But turns out that getting rid of his disability it was actually a big deal for Viktor and I want to search for an explanation that isn't that the writers probably had a subconscious bias about disability

Tbh I always thought that it was kind of implied that Viktor's disability was a result of his parents being exposed to dangerous chemicals in Zaun, like it wasn't just his sickness that was a result of being born in Zaun, but also his leg, don't know if it's just me but anyway the author is dead moving on

I'm saying this because it would make sense at least for Viktor to think that way. Because in his mind it's his disability = his sickness = the problems in Zaun. These three things aren't different for him, is one and the same problem that needs to be solved

This is also shown when Viktor is experimenting in himself with the Hexcore and instead of doing something that might help him idk stop coughing blood, the first thing he does is trying to undo his disability. And I've seen some people ask why the hell is Viktor more worried about his disability than the thing that's actually killing him. It's because in Viktor's mind is the same thing

Now, we can actually see hints that Viktor might resent his disability (and Zaun by extension) in the boat scene when he's a child, where even though his genius is great, his disability stops him from reaching the boat, from reaching his full potential (at least in Viktor's mind)

He resents not being able to be who he wants, who he could be if he had been born in Piltover and puts the blame on his disability and Zaun

This actually makes sense with later scenes when Viktor and Jayce show off what they've been working on to Heimmerdinger, the gauntlets and the claw (arm?). If Viktor and Jayce were working on these two things separately, very telling that Viktor's project (the claw) focuses on artisans, who are still "a step above" than the miners Jayce is focusing on. But if they're working together on the projects, we see that Viktor actually doesn't really wants to help Zaun

Because, what are these? Gauntlets and a claw to make people work faster? These are the solutions Viktor (and Jayce) come up when confronted with Zaun's problems, not actually helping them attack the root of the the problem. Like Miners have to spent hours working in dangerous conditions that affect their health? Well, let's give them something so they can work faster. This is merely palliative care, not caring to actually solve the real problem

Which leads me to the next point, Viktor doesn't actually wants to help Zaun to become a better place, he wants to get rid of the Zaun of now and transform it in Piltover 2.0. In his mind this isn't about helping Zaun, but getting rid of the thing that caused his disability and sickness, metaphorically eliminating them both

We can see this in Viktor's commune

Because, Zaun, even when it looks dirty and dark, all in all doesn't look ugly, like any place where poor people live, it's also full of individuality and self expression, art that's fighting to exist. Compare it to Piltover's Art deco and art nouveau inspired architecture that while, yes, everything looks very beautiful, it also looks very same-y

Viktor's commune also looks very same-y and in a way a bit Piltover inspired. Contrast Viktor's commune to the alternative universe we see where things are better in Zaun, it looks brighter and cleaner, but it also didn't lose any of the self expression and individuality that Zaun has. Individuality that is lost in Viktor's perfect world

Because again, it wasn't about Zaun, or about helping people, it was about Viktor taking something, destroying it, and substituting it with something he believes to be perfect. Perfect without any kind of disabilities that might hold Viktor back (which isn't true but that's what Viktor believes)

This sentiment later comes back when he tries his glorious evolution

Now about Jayce

Part of why I didn't understand Viktor's characterization at first was because I wasn't seeing the whole, I was missing a crucial part of the puzzle, and that was Jayce

At first I thought that Viktor was only interested in Jayce because of his idea of Hextech. But no.

The first time Viktor and Jayce meet, Viktor seems only mildly interested in Jayce's idea, but not enough to actually do something to help him, he was there because he had a job to do, he had to make sure that Jayce was arrested, only that

It wasn't until the judgement that Viktor actually takes an interest in Jayce, but not because of his idea

Viktor was attracted by Jayce's willingness to defend what he thought was right even when everyone else went against him. His personality and fierceness was the thing that later made Viktor take another look at Jayce's investigation

Compare it to how Mel first approached Jayce

Mel and Viktor are very similar in that both want to make something perfect (Mel wants a perfect Piltover, Viktor wants a perfect Zaun and later a perfect world), but they have different motivations. Mel wants to make a perfect city so that she later can gift it to her mother and prove that she's worthy of her love and affection, and that she's worthy of being part of her family

So in the judgment, Mel first sees and is interested by Jayce's idea, because it's something that can get her closer to her goal of being back with her family. Later she's interested in the inventor

But with Viktor is the opposite, he first is interested in Jayce as a man, that's what later attracts him to his dream

(Side note It's also worth noting that I think Arcane takes away Jayce's role in LoL of being Viktor's rival and gives it to Mel. More than that, with both Mel and Viktor being mages and Mel's magic being the thing that stops Viktor during the first fight between him and Jayce. I think that if Mel was more powerful, or Viktor was less overpowered [what the fuck arcane's writers, he's literally a freaking God] she could've stopped him)

Now this is important because I truly don't think Viktor's characterization makes sense unless he genuinely likes/loves Jayce without ulterior motives

In the rest of the first season, we see how Viktor slowly self isolates, in part because Jayce is leaving him behind to be with Mel, so that leads to Viktor taking more and more risks in a bit of a self destructive way, and I think this is in part because Jayce isn't with him. He probably also thinks it's his sickness the thing that's making Jayce go away, that's why he's trying to hide it in the beginning but I'm not to sure about that lmao

This later causes Sky's death, and I think her death is very important for Viktor. Not because he actually feels something for her, but because it's something that makes him feel very guilty

Because, if in the first season Viktor's actions were motivated in part because Jayce went away, then why Viktor's first instinct is to go away in the second season?

It's because of the guilt

In Viktor's mind he not only killed Sky, he's now the thing that killed sky. That plus the fact of how Jayce's acted during the bridge, hating on the zaunites. He probably thinks that Jayce doesn't care about him anymore

When he says "it was affection that held us together" he probably didn't mean it in a "I don't care about you anymore" but more in a "you don't care about me anymore, and you probably shouldn't anyway because there's no reason for you to do so"

When he goes away and creates a cult in Zaun, it's because Viktor is trying to redeem himself and make their dream come true. Viktor's commune is his version of their dream, a little bubble of perfection in an imperfect world

Of course that's not what Jayce wanted or meant when he thought about their dream, but that's just how Viktor misinterpreted it

That's why he's so insistent that Jayce go to see him after he's back from the future, because their dream wouldn't be complete unless it was both of them in it

So when Jayce shoot him, Viktor didn't think that maybe what he was doing was wrong, or that maybe he was crossing a line he shouldn't. When Jayce shoot him, he took it as Jayce rejecting not only their dream, but also Viktor himself

So he was hurt, he was angry. And in his hurt, the first thing he did was trying to justify his emotions by logic. The problem wasn't that what Viktor wanted was wrong. The problem was those pesky emotions messed everything up and if he just could get rid of them then their dream would become true and truly perfect (and Jayce wouldn't reject him). So he needed to get rid of emotions it didn't matter if he hurt the entire world (and Jayce) in his path to do so, more than that it was justified in his mind

I see what Viktor did after Jayce shoot him as he basically saying "I was trying to do this in the nice way, but now I'm angry and I'll show you what I'm truly capable of"

Ironically, his speech about what motivates humanity's greatest good is also what makes them do their greatest evil applies to Viktor 100%, his affection for Jayce is the thing that motivates him to help and to hurt everyone else

I also think that Viktor knew he was in part taking away some of the free will of the people in the commune, he probably just thought it wasn't doing them any harm, just taking away their "disability"

Now, in the future, Viktor realized that perfection, getting rid of humanity's mistakes, and getting rid of his disability; wasn't what he truly wanted, the thing that he truly wanted was to not be alone, and to be worthy of love, and Jayce was the only one who didn't make Viktor feel alone. So when Jayce hugged Viktor and showed him what he saw, I actually think it was like Viktor of the future telling his past self "this is not what you want, this is a mistake"

I also don't think Viktor learned to accept his disabilities in the end; because a heartfelt speech about loving yourself isn't going to make you forget a life of prejudice just like that lmao

But I do think that in that moment when Jayce showed him the future, he recognized that what he was doing was a mistake and stopped

In the end he got what he truly wanted, which was not being alone, being loved, and to be with Jayce, even if their dream of making the world a better place didn't become true

I read somewhere that Viktor in the game was inspired by Doctor Doom, and Idk if that's true. But if I had to compare Arcane Viktor to somebody in Marvel, it would be the Scarlet Witch (here I am thinking about fanart of Viktor dressed as the Scarlet Witch lmao), an extremely powerful being that gets carried away by their emotions, and ends up doing horrible things with good intentions

Yeah, I understand him a bit better now lmao

[ofthecaravel]

Heavy Crown

Summary: Prince Sam's premonition can only be quelled by the presence of his personal guard.

Tags: 18+ content!!!, flowery ass fancy ass medieval adjacent talking, suggestive conversations, minor minor angst

Words: 11k

A/N: Hear ye, hear ye, I do decree that none of you can look me in the eyes ever again after reading this.

~~~

It’s the window that did it, really. At least, that’s what the prince had said.

 It was a tall, grand window positioned opposite the bed that slept across the wide length of the bedroom, with heavy velvet curtains that were drawn in the evening and undone in the morning to reveal the shimmering glass. Despite the effort it would take and the noise it would invoke if those curtains were to move, Prince Samuel insisted his guard be removed from his post outside his chamber doors and instead spend his evenings beside the window.

“I have terrible dreams of someone coming through the window and slitting my throat in my sleep,” Samuel explained to his father the king, tearfully clinging to his arm. “I ask David replace Daniel’s post and Daniel stay with me. He’s the only one I trust to handle an intruder if my dreams turn out to be premonitions.” 

Of course the king had relented to his youngest child, third in line for the throne and yet the undisputed favorite. Riding the aftershock of a rambunctious rebellious phase that had Samuel turning the palace inside and out when he was a youth, his parents would do just about anything to keep him satisfied and away from the fine china. And so, Daniel of the royal guard ended up sitting stoic and alert in a plush chair in front of the window night after night while Samuel slept. 

That is, until the prince started to spend his time in bed talking instead of sleeping. 

Talking to Daniel.

It was all very innocent at first. That’s how Daniel remembers it. A week or so into this operation, Daniel jolted from a light doze by the soft bell of Samuel’s voice reaching out to him in the inky black of the room. If it were daytime, he would have passed his time quite quickly admiring the ornate intricacies of the vanity, the trim of the wall, the frame of the bed, the patterns of the quilt, the body beneath them…

“Daniel?”

“Your Majesty?” Daniel startled, getting to his feet in an instant and his hand going straight to the sword on his side. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s the matter, you can sit,” Samuel insisted, amusement lacing his voice and making Daniel feel suddenly silly for reacting the way that he did, despite it being his duty to do so. “It’s just that I can’t sleep.”

“Oh,” Daniel said simply, sitting gingerly back down on his seat. “Should I request something from the kitchen?”

“Is that what you would do for yourself?” Sam asked. 

His tone was odd. Daniel couldn’t quite place its intent. He felt self conscious under Samuel’s scrutiny, which was something the prince seemed to subject him to often. When he stood beside his throne at the edge of the room during court, he could always feel the heat of Samuel’s eyes on him in his peripheral vision while keeping his gaze on the doors and whatever danger may lay behind them. Daniel burned often during court. 

“I…suppose I would,” Daniel answered honestly. “When I was young and couldn’t sleep, my mother would bring me milk and a slice of bread and it would make me plenty drowsy.” 

There was a moment of silence as Samuel considered his words. Immediately, Daniel worried he had said too much about himself. It felt wrong to mention himself at all in the presence of royalty. Everyone’s lives were supposed to revolve around theirs. Lucky for Samuel, Daniel was more than happy to mold his life to make Samuel’s easier.

“Request this from the kitchen,” Samuel ordered in a bored tone, yawning as he said it. In doing so, he completely betrayed his facade of being far too awake for his own liking, but Daniel didn’t seem to notice as he got to his feet and whispered the demand to the guard outside the door. 

-

After this occasion, Prince Samuel spent every night provoking more and more conversation out of his otherwise silent guard. 

“Daniel?”

“You must be up early in the morning, Prince. You should rest.”

“You know I struggle to do so.”

“Your struggle would be helped by an attempt to rest.”

“I’ll have your head for that,” Samuel snapped, but they both knew it carried no weight. “I mean only to ask for your opinion. Or have you risen above matters such as morals?”

“What opinion do you require, Your Majesty?”

“You also know I hate when you call me that.”

“It is what you are to me,” Daniel stated plainly. 

In truth, it was more so what had been taught to him. He was reminded often how lucky he was to receive a position with such high honor, and to refer to who he protected as anything less prestigious than they were was entirely unacceptable. Even titles that were within his right to use sometimes felt too intimate for him to be using. Once, when Daniel had first been appointed to serve the youngest prince, he had called him “my prince” and proceeded to feel an uncomfortable warmth in his face for hours after it had left his lips. This was due in part to the stare Prince Samuel had subjected him to after he had said it. It was a stare he felt had never really quite left him. 

“Call me Samuel,” Samuel insisted. With a shift in the blue of the night, Daniel could tell he had flipped from his back to rest his pillow on his cheek to face Daniel. “If only in my quarters, call me that. If you resist, I will order you to.”

“What opinion do you require…Samuel,” Daniel forced out, feeling a strained heat in his body as he made himself speak the name. It felt so wrong. Salacious, somehow. He was not meant to know his protectee in this way. He was not meant to want to know his protectee in this way.

“At the ball we will host this coming weekend, do you recommend I wear my robes of blue or red?” Samuel asked, pleased by Daniel’s subordinance. “I’d like to wear my crown as well, if that changes your opinion in any way.”

“This may be a question best suited to your tailor,” Daniel replied, despite having an immediate answer in his head. “I don’t know much in ways of fabrics and drapery.”

“But what do you prefer? On me?”

“I prefer whatever you feel flatters you best.”

Daniel felt everything the prince wore flattered him best. He could walk the castle grounds wearing robes stitched together with curtains and rugs and Daniel would still think of it for hours.

“You are impossible, Daniel,” the prince whined, loudly flipping onto his back once more and disrupting the goose down pillows and mattress that cushioned him. “If you are not suited to answer such simple questions, I ask you fetch David from outside the door and-”

“The red,” Daniel cut him off quickly, bristling in his seat. “I recommend the red for you.”

There was a span of silence that seemed like forever to Daniel as he felt the smug satisfaction drifting from Samuel reach him from across the room.

“Thank you for your council, Daniel,” Samuel hummed. “Now I can rest.”

“Rest well…Samuel,” Daniel answered him. 

If it were easy to see, you could’ve seen both their smiles in the dark.

-

After a lifetime of being told of the untouchable power and dominion the house of Kiszka held over their kingdom, and even those that stretched far beyond the sea, it felt somehow dangerous to bend to the friendship that was forming between him and the youngest prince. When Samuel’s prodding questions turned into rambling, these mythical figures that Daniel had sworn his autonomy to were stripped of their mystique and glory until they were simply people. With Samuel’s words, a king and queen that bowed the heads of nations and dropped members of the court to their knees turned into overbearing parents whose strongest arsenal held only embarrassing nicknames instead of weapons. The steely eyed general of an army, a cunning strategist, and a charitable princess were reverted to mischievous children united against their youngest brother, armed only with peach pits for tossing and sticky hands made for pulling hair. Samuel spent his time on the outskirts of royal importance mapping their lives and their trajectory. And now, as Daniel slowly warmed up to him, he finally had someone to report his findings to.

“My father has spent another useless afternoon in talks with the high court from that prissy kingdom in the mountains about a bride for Joshua,” Samuel announced one evening as he smoothed his quilts and Daniel took his post in his chair. “I know he’s first in line, but we all know he’s just going to keep scaring those poor girls away as he always has.”

“Joshua would make a fine king,” Daniel responded. As weeks of chatter turned into months, he had reclined from a tense posture to a casual lean, even allowing his legs to cross comfortably. He did it then, massaging the back of his sore neck with a hand while Samuel fluffed his blankets with snaps of the wrist.

“Yes, but he doesn’t want to be a ‘fine king’,” Samuel sighed, taking advantage of the warm light the still lit candles cast through the room so he might make proper eye contact with his guard. “He’d rather spend all day drawing his maps and goofing off with his men. Honestly, I don’t even know what they all actually do. We haven’t needed to “strategize” for anything in years. We’re a peaceful people!”

Daniel hummed thoughtfully and nodded sagely, carefully keeping his mouth shut. Daniel knew well what plans of action that the royal guard appointed to the eldest son often carried out, but he decided it was not his place to relay that to his little prince. 

“I will share a sentiment of mine if you swear not to repeat it,” Samuel proclaimed, finally settling his legs under the silks and fine Egyptian cotton while keeping his back to the carved headboard.

“There is nothing I would not swear to you, Your Highness,” Daniel answered solemnly.

“There are times when I feel this whole system with its relation to my family and our kingdom is just so…”

The prince trailed off, tilting his head to the ceiling and thinking. Daniel used this beat of quiet to admire him without shame or quickly darting eyes. The low, pensive slope of Samuel’s eyebrows over his foxlike eyes, down to the straight descent of his nose and the sculpt of his lips…all of it invited Daniel in. 

“The monarchy, I mean. Well, I can’t say I care for it much most days.”

Daniel blinked in shock, jolting out of his haze and twisting at the hip to face the prince head on. 

“But you are so favored,” Daniel responded, taken aback by Samuel’s words. “There are legions who would give their lives for the power you hold.”

“They can have it,” Samuel grumbled. “I know if my brothers and sister were here, they would agree with me. When Joshua is king, I pray he fulfills the rearrangement we all crave.”

“What is it you crave?”

Samuel fell silent and turned his gaze to Daniel, who received it with a slow intake of breath through his nose and a neutral expression as the prince’s handsome eyebrows tensed almost pleadingly before smoothing out. It was an exchange that lasted only a moment, but it struck a tightly strung chord in Daniel as Samuel let out a weary sigh.

“I wish my siblings and I could trade our roles,” Samuel admitted, shrugging loosely and smoothing his hair with a graceful hand. “Jacob would happily play king if Joshua gave him the title. He has so much respect from our people as it is, and I know they would feel secure under his rule. Joshua could keep his affairs inside the castle the way he prefers…or perhaps his duties could take him to neighboring kingdoms and he could gain their favor that way. He’s sweet with his words when he wants to be. His diplomacy could take us far.”

“I suppose that would leave you to switch duties with your sister the princess,” Daniel joked. He watched curiously as Samuel’s face flickered with what looked like the beginnings of a smile, but he quickly turned his face towards the shadowy corner of the room that slept to his left. 

“There is already not much difference between our positions,” Samuel carefully answered. “With my brothers in line before me and little chance of war ever knocking on our doors, what is left for me? Correspondence I do not understand, taxations I hate to enforce, audiences with counsels in languages I struggle to speak. Veronica would thrive with these responsibilities, I’m certain of it. If I could gift it to her, I would. With lace and bows.”

Daniel frowned sympathetically as the prince became lost in thought, drawing a knee up to his cheek and resting his head while Daniel watched over him and considered his perspective. 

To Daniel, Samuel’s life had always seemed like the ideal hand anyone could be dealt. He had never considered the unsavory clauses in the contract of his life, and he felt almost cruel for it. The princes and princess were ever opulent and commanding when he had been in their presence, but as Daniel observed the youngest prince, he couldn’t help but think that he looked small. Vulnerable. He didn’t know that was something a prince could be.

“If there was anything I could do to change things,” Daniel began, his voice low and measured as he carefully worked through his response. “I would do that for you. For all of you. Many long for the control you wish you could shed. Forgive me for finding it strange to hear these sentiments, but I swear to never repeat them. Rest easy knowing this.”

Samuel was quiet for a minute longer before turning his eyes back on Daniel. His face was rosy and smiling in the low light. The weight of his lashes cast shadows that trickled down his cheeks. 

“And may you rest easy knowing your kindness does not go unnoticed,” Samuel replied softly.

“I would be a fool to be unkind to you, Your Highness.”

“There is control you hold, Daniel, when you address me. Or have you forgotten?”

“My apologies. Samuel.”

Samuel grinned and began to scoot down under his blankets, happily bundling himself up as he beamed at Daniel across the room.

“Keep up with your kindness and someday I will let you call me Sam. Until then, you can call me your friend.”

Daniel startled while Samuel bid him a quiet goodnight and turned away from him, sinking into the mattress and sighing peacefully as Daniel’s face began to simmer with recognition. He strode around the room and extinguished the candles, pondering their conversation as he fell back into repose on his chair, rubbing his temples and closing his eyes against the needling slivers of moonlight that ventured through the curtains. 

To call the prince by a nickname felt overwhelming. Their friendship washed over him in cold waves, and he choked on its implications until the hours of the early morning. The thing that truly worried him was not the weight of their comradery. It was the fact that he wanted more.

-

“You amuse me, Daniel.”

“For what reason is it tonight?”

“Months now you’ve watched over me in my chambers and yet you still sit so far from me.”

“Is that not the purpose of my presence?”

Samuel grinned impishly at Daniel’s back as he kept it turned to allow Samuel to put on his nightclothes without audience. At first, Daniel had waited outside as he dressed, but now they had picked up a habit of Samuel having Daniel follow him directly from the parlor after dinner and making him face the wall patiently while they chatted. Which Daniel did with no qualms, of course, but that didn’t mean his neck and ears didn’t flush with anxious heat as he thought of the prince undressing within arms length of him. Even in nightclothes, Samuel was always covered head to toe, leaving much to the imagination. Daniel had begun to admit to himself that he imagined more than he found suitable for someone in his position, and it filled him with deep, dark guilt. 

“You are exceedingly tall, I do not worry about you getting to the window in record time if the occasion arose,” Samuel hummed as he buttoned his shirt. “Your legs would carry you quickly.”

“Where would you prefer me to keep my station, then?” Daniel asked, somewhat nervous.

“Sit in the chair beside my bed,” Samuel demanded coolly, flouncing over to his bed and taking a moment to run his fingers over the red velvet chair that sat near where his head would soon lay. Daniel met his eye with a look of level headed surprise, but Samuel only smiled innocently as he cracked his neck and crawled under the covers. Daniel hesitated, but started his stride to the spot beside the bed despite it. Samuel frowned and held up a hand well acquainted with attitude.

“Ah, my candles?” the prince requested sharply, rolling his wrist to gesture at them. Daniel froze once more, waiting until Samuel made a little “shoo” motion to do his round around the room to extinguish them, feeling that same panicked warmth beginning to twist his stomach into confused knots. This change of routine was odd, but wasn’t the entire situation? Perhaps there was nothing to be divined from Samuel’s sudden appeal. 

In the bed, Samuel watched Daniel as happily as he always did when he bowed to his every demand. His happiness was layered with a familiar, often caged stirring that he also felt when watching his loyal guard. He had decided a week in advance that it would not be left caged much longer. Samuel tried not to betray his excitement and contradictory apprehension as Daniel turned back to him and their eyes met.

“Oh, the day that I’ve had,” Samuel lamented as Daniel approached him and cautiously sat down, already feeling shaky from the proximity. “I’ve begun to think I’m unwell from all the worrying I’ve done.”

“You’ve looked well enough,” Daniel offered optimistically.

“I don’t feel well,” Samuel groaned, dramatically smacking the back of his hand against his forehead. “Tell me, Daniel, do I feel warm?”

With the small amount of moonlight peering in, Daniel was able to see the prince’s glittering, expectant eyes looking up at him as he removed his hand and seemingly waited for Daniel to replace it with his own. 

“I’m not permitted to touch any member of your family unless it were under emergency circumstances,” Daniel explained clearly. “But I can tell you that if I were to, I wouldn’t expect to feel any warmth that would warrant concern.” 

“Daniel,” Samuel whined, playing with the intonation of his name in a hushed, low voice that sent a refreshing chill through Daniel. “Tell me, who do you see in this room? It’s only me, isn’t it? And I have no reason to make a report of any kind when I’m the one requesting your aid. Now, would you please?”

Fighting to keep steady, Daniel placed a careful hand on the prince’s forehead. Samuel closed his eyes at the contact and smiled with such pride it bordered on lechery. 

“You feel very normal,” Daniel appraised, allowing himself the pleasure of letting his hand rest for a moment longer than he felt was appropriate. When his muscles twitched slightly and he was reminded of just what he was doing, he went to lift his arm. However, Samuel’s hand was up in a flash to cover his own and press his palm flat against Samuel’s skin.

“Keep it there for a moment longer, if you may,” Samuel whispered. “It is the first comfort I’ve felt all day.”

“What has kept you in such a state of anguish?” Daniel asked, desperate to distract himself from the drunken feeling that was seeping into him through Samuel’s touch. His hand on Daniel’s was a reminder of his humanity, as well as the startling reality that this person Daniel tended to and thought of day in and day out was capable of not only being touched, but wanting to be touched.

“My father, as always,” Samuel griped, his eyes still closed but his dark brow crinkling in distaste. “He is hardly elderly and far from ill, and yet he’s begun to invest more and more of his time into arranging prospective brides and suitors for my siblings and I to hold an audience with. It is simply maddening, all this talk of travel and weddings.”

“You do not wish to be wed?” When Daniel asked it, he heard a glimmer of hope in his words that drove his guilt deeper through him. 

“To a stranger? A stranger that I will be strung to for my entire life? A stranger who I must treat well or potentially risk breaking an allyship with an entire foreign nation? I would never wish for that. I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone. I’ve always wished to marry for love.”

Samuel breathed out a pitiful, longing sigh and his thumb began to massage the back of Daniel’s hand, who stared at the sight as if frozen to where he sat. It was a misplaced attempt at self soothing by the prince, Daniel decided. He decided upon it mostly to avoid further cluttering of his thoughts. And cluttered they certainly were.

“Perhaps you will find love with your princess,” Daniel offered soothingly. “Many in your position do. Besides, it’s not as if you would be able to find love with anyone within the palace walls that would be permissible for you to marry.”

“I know this,” Samuel replied darkly, suddenly bitter and sharp as his thumb ceased motion. “Am I not allowed to wish?”

“Of course you are,” Daniel replied, relenting in an instant. “I am truly sorry for-”

“No apology is necessary,” the prince cut him off. He opened his eyes and turned his doe eyed stare on Daniel. “You are right, after all. Forgive me. My headache is making me cruel.”

“You’re never cruel,” Daniel murmured. “Not to me.”

The sentiment was well placed, but ultimately untrue. In the years he had served alongside the prince, Samuel had never shied from lighting the short fuse of his temper in his presence and basking in the praise Daniel would lay upon him in an attempt to quell his tantrums. As Daniel thought about it, he thought of how it had been a while since Samuel had dealt him an outburst. Before this instance, it had to have been months. What had been subduing him?

A minute passed in silence. Samuel’s grip on Daniel’s hand weakened and for a moment, Daniel wondered if he had begun to drift into sleep. He wondered how long he could stare at the dreaming face of the sleeping prince before it felt sinful. However, Samuel let out a huff and spoke once more.

“There is so much I don’t understand,” Samuel sighed, mournful and serious. “To talk of it for hours on end has sent me spiraling. I’m nearly afraid when I think of my wedding night.”

“You should hold no fear towards it, Your Highness. I think it’s a night to look forward to. What would make it so terrible?”

“Simply that I don’t quite know what I will do when the door is closed and I am alone with my new bride. I don’t know what I will do when we are supposed to finalize our wedded duties and…consummate the union.”

Daniel felt the air leave his chest and he dearly wanted to remove himself from the room entirely as the imagery of Sam’s words began to unfurl and spin in Daniel’s mind. What made it all the more excruciating was the physical rise in temperature he felt under his palm. It sizzled somewhere inside Samuel and reached out to him. Daniel sent up a prayer begging for the prince to stop looking up at him the way he was, but it fell on deaf ears.

“I trust your advisors will arrange an education for you before the time comes,” Daniel managed to say, clearing his throat uncomfortably. “You shouldn’t worry about that at all. Think of the ceremony and-”

“I don’t trust those stuffy clods to know what happens,” Samuel continued on, glossing over Daniel’s smooth attempt to change the subject. “It will all be so clinical and calculated as their lectures always are. I will leave more inept than when I began. I’m told consorting outside of conjugal relations occurs far more frequently in the kingdom than it ever does inside the castle. If I were to be the one to decide, I would want someone of a more common class to teach. To show me.”

Daniel stared at the plain cuff of his sleeve resting against Samuel’s hair as Samuel tilted his head towards him ever so slightly, his grip on Daniel’s hand applying a pressure so light that anyone who was not so attuned to it may not have even noticed. But Daniel noticed. He noticed nothing else. He breathed only through his nose as he attempted in vain to pull his usually very clever brain out of its state of bewilderment at Samuel’s peculiar behavior.

“Perhaps you can have it your way,” Daniel answered meekly. “You could have it arranged.”

“I am permitted most things if I play my hand right, but my parents would never allow this,” Sam asserted, a slight gravel dusting his voice. “I’m certain they fear the corruption of my thoughts. They definitely fear that I’ll try to exorcise my urges with those of lower status. It may be too late for that, unfortunately for them.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you speak of,” Daniel murmured, cursing in his mind when he heard his words waver as he spoke. Samuel seemed to catch this and smiled with a feline flirt at the corners of his mouth.

“I’m sure you do,” Samuel retorted in a voice just as quiet but twice as assured. “You know which tutor I would request if I were to have things my way.”

Daniel couldn’t find any feasible way to respond to the prince’s suggestive tone. He watched with rapt attention and wide eyes as Samuel turned over onto his stomach and manually moved Daniel’s hand to cup his cheek, closing his eyes as he nuzzled into his palm before looking up at him again with lowered lids and his eyebrows nestled together in undeniable desire. Daniel swallowed thickly as a fuzzy wash of adrenaline blurred inside him at the sight. He found himself unable to look away from the prince despite it being the one thing he knew he should be doing. It didn’t cross his mind once to simply remove his hand and stand away.

As a member of the royal guard, Daniel had been trained to be highly knowledgeable and reliable for countless scenarios that could besiege him or those he swore to defend. And yet, there had been no counsel in matters of temptation, something that seemed frivolous and borderline impossible coming from the royals themselves. Temptation stared up at him now, with parted lips and artfully crafted words that had drawn him in and trapped him before he had the wherewithal to realize how far he had fallen. Daniel thought of the evening when he had told the prince that there was nothing he would not swear to him. If he denied him now, he would be breaking that vow. If he denied him now, he would be denying himself as well. Hadn’t he spent enough time doing that?

“You ask me to advise you?” Daniel questioned when he gathered the strength to speak once more. Samuel smiled, the high apple of his cheek pressing against Daniel’s palm as he leaned into it once more.

“Yes,” Samuel answered, sounding near breathless. “Consider it an education. For this evening, you will act as I will when I have my princess. I will act as the latter.”

“I…don’t know how we would go about this,” Daniel stammered, feeling his throat begin to tighten anxiously as Samuel tilted his jaw and brushed his lips under Daniel’s thumb. “This is already-”

“I’m aware of the circumstances, Daniel,” Samuel interjected, his lips buzzing against Daniel’s skin as he spoke curtly. “I have been aware of them for a while. Too long. A moment longer would feel torturous, if I’m being perfectly honest. And now I have given you this circumstance to uphold your responsibility of fulfilling royal need while also fulfilling yourself, which is a grace that I presume you have not been often given. Now would you please stop acting as though either of our titles or birthright have any kind of meaning to each other anymore and join me where I lay?”

Struck speechless, Daniel wavered for only a moment before obliging the prince as he always did and getting to his feet. In doing so, he finally ripped himself from Samuel, whose expression darkened with upset and confusion before calming as he realized that all Daniel was doing was removing his sword from its scabbard and leaning it against the wall. He unbuckled the scabbard and tossed it on the chair, remaining silent and stone faced as he usually did. Despite this, inside Daniel’s mind, he felt such overwhelming excitement and improper giddiness that it warranted this mask of calm. Samuel grinned with pure satisfaction as he made a show of throwing off the covers and sitting up, patting a space on the bed next to him. Daniel lowered himself to the mattress and stared down at the eager prince, who leaned his thigh against Daniel’s and smiled smugly. 

“How wonderful to have you so close,” Samuel hummed quietly, turning his head to the side to appraise Daniel’s face through the cover of night. “You are always over my shoulder or at a distance, it seems.”

“It is not as though this is the first time you have seen me,” Daniel muttered, following Samuel’s cue to keep their voices hushed. 

“It feels like it,” Samuel whispered, lifting a hesitant hand to trace the proud slope of Daniel’s freckled nose. “You are exquisite. I shall send you to my portrait painting session next week in my stead.”

“I thought we were to be discussing your education.”

“I thought I made it clear enough that “discussion” would be kept at a minimum,” Samuel rasped, leaning forward slightly and staring unabashedly at Daniel’s lips. “Must you keep playing the fool? Do you enjoy causing your prince such distress?” 

“Certainly not,” Daniel answered sincerely. “But I admit I cannot help but feel a great amount of hesitation towards this…indulgence. There will be consequences.”

“There is not an earthly soul I would speak of this to,” Samuel insisted, shifting forward further so that he could place a firm hand on Daniel’s chest. “I haven’t even prayed for it. It has lived inside of me only in dreams. There is no one who would know but you and I, and it shall stay that way if you keep it from the ears of the guard.”

“The guard stands post outside your door as we speak,” Daniel reminded Samuel, leaning in as he spoke in urgency. “And he especially has sharp ears, which is why he holds the position he does.”

“The guard has been relinquished from his post for the evening,” Samuel whispered, his dark eyes sparkling wickedly with clandestine glee. “My father was informed this morning that my anxiety has been quelled enough by your presence to warrant this.”

Daniel was astonished by this admission. His eyes worked their way over Samuel’s face, which was painted with growing licentious pleasure as he continued further into the space between them. Daniel’s cheeks burned with a furious mix of shock and sudden, inexplicable appetite.

“You have made me your concubine,” Daniel seethed with searing heat of inextinguishable and undetermined source.

Samuel held his fiery stare for an agonizing amount of time before moving. Samuel’s hand on Daniel’s chest smoothed over his collarbone and shoulder before finding purchase behind his neck, where he gripped and pulled Daniel forward until their noses slid side by side and Sam’s lips fluttered against Daniel’s when they moved once more.

“I have made you my king,” Samuel hissed fiercely, his words rushing over each other as they spilled out. “I have languished over you, an act truly unbecoming of a prince, wouldn’t you say? I spend every day mourning your absence and every night gratified by your presence. Do not dare speak of my feelings towards you when you know so little of their depths, Daniel.” 

“Surely you can’t have ‘felt’ this way for long.”

“Since the day of my 18th birthday and you knelt and swore your life to my family. To me. You looked up from your knee and I have not known peace since. From that day on, you have stayed at my back like the sun on my skin and remained in my mind like a hymnal I cannot forget. How can you not know this? How have you not felt it?”

“How could I?”

Samuel let out a frustrated breath and removed his grip from Daniel’s neck, sitting back slightly and petulantly pushing his hands against Daniel’s chest in annoyance. A breath of bottled relief trembled from Daniel’s throat as he watched Samuel’s tantrum, unresponsive to the prince’s irritation as he attempted in vain to absorb all of his revelations. The warmth of Samuel’s face against his own was still at the forefront of his mind, where Daniel was certain it was never to stray. 

“How could you not feel it? Half of my days are spent trying to catch your eye. Did you think I only meant to distract you from your surveillance?” Samuel snapped. 

“It is what is accomplished in doing so. You have always been terribly distracting,” Daniel confessed. It felt wrong to say, but Samuel’s expression lifted ever so slightly and Daniel watched his pout rise to a delighted, slightly smug smile.

“As are you,” Samuel responded. His hands on Daniel’s chest relaxed and he suddenly seemed shy of their presence against the linen. He gingerly curled his fingers into his palm for only a moment before flattening them and smoothing the wrinkles in the fabric dotingly. 

“Why do you think I mean to shift my duties when my brother comes to power? There is no time for them when my head is filled with such dreams,” Samuel murmured wistfully. His brow was still knit as if in the throes of his grievance, but his voice was newly bashful. Daniel, slowly becoming emboldened by Samuel’s words as well as being blinded to the reality that lay outside the door, finally found the strength to reach for the prince. His hand rose and allowed a single finger to remove a stray wave of mahogany hair from Samuel’s cheek and tuck it behind his ear. Samuel froze at the contact and stared up at Daniel in wonder. 

“You keep saying you have these dreams that torment you so,” Daniel began, continuing to push back the prince’s hair with a gentle hand. “And yet you’ve told me nothing. Please…tell me.”

Samuel looked at him longingly for a second more before leaning into Daniel again, his arms going around his neck and Daniel’s own impulsively moving to Samuel’s waist. There was a flurry of reflex and motion as Daniel clumsily pushed himself back further onto the mattress and the prince ended up on his lap, clinging to Daniel wildly as his lips went to his ear. In order to speak, he resisted the urge to bite.

“It matters little if I’m asleep or sitting on the throne. In these dreams, we are far from dynasty and these ridiculous rules that keep me from you now,” Samuel purred, his longing tone sending nettles of adrenaline biting at Daniel’s insides. 

“We ride horses during our days and sit beside one another for meals, with no qualms of hierarchy to keep us apart. Then, at night, we make love like the Greeks.” 

Samuel’s sentence ended in a heavy, drawn out whisper that echoed in Daniel’s ear. Samuel drew back slightly to observe the way Daniel’s eyes fluttered shut and his lips pressed to allow a shaky swallow pass through his throat. Daniel’s long, wide hands held the length of the prince’s hips, and Samuel enjoyed the flicker of unintentional pressure that pulsed through Daniel’s fingers.

Daniel’s face was tense with emotion and thought but entirely unreadable. Samuel’s body became alight with nerves as he worried himself into a stupor that he had done what he was so scared of doing, which was driving his beloved guard away from him and all of his heavy, silly feelings. He knew he had come on strong, but he hadn’t been able to conceive of a way where he could tell Daniel what he thought and not tell him absolutely everything.

“I have known you all my life, Samuel, and yet I am realizing there is so little I know about you,” Daniel finally said. There was a dreamy fascination to his deep voice that made Samuel’s nerves flutter again, but in a different sort of way. Daniel’s head tilted and one black eyebrow arched as he regarded Samuel, and Samuel felt his hips tightening involuntarily as he fought not to adjust himself on Daniel’s lap.

“Even after all the time we’ve spent in these chambers when you were meant to be resting and I was meant to be alert, it seems there is much about you I’ve never known. You enjoy little deceptions is what I have realized just now, hearing you speak this way to me.”

Samuel’s eyebrows raised listening to Daniel. Part of it was the haughty royal blood running through his veins beginning to boil at the audacity of someone daring to call him out, but another part of it that was well acquainted with this royal attitude was secretly thrilled that he was being seen by Daniel. 

“If your sexual education has been so lackluster it warrants guidance with hands and not quills to parchment, you would not know of the Greeks and their habits,” Daniel pointed out with the beginnings of a smile. “Certainly not enough to fantasize about it day and night. It makes me wonder about what other little lies have brought me to you in this way.”

With all his years of repression and dissatisfaction, Samuel found his mouth hanging open as he panted with anticipation, his needy hands coming up to clutch Daniel’s slightly stubbled jaw and tilt it to align with his own. Samuel needed more than anything to kiss him, but Daniel spoke again before he could strike.

“May I ask one thing?” Daniel requested with a voice so gravelly and soft it could not be heard even mere inches away from where they clung to each other. 

If either of them had been paying attention to anything besides the feeling of the other’s erratic heartbeats joining where their chests rested only centimeters apart, they may have realized this was the first occasion where Daniel had requested something of Samuel. A subtle reclamation of power that would aid him in hours to come.

“You may,” Samuel permitted.

“I took post in your room because of a dream so intense that you spoke of it to the king and insisted that I was your only reprieve. Were there really any ever nightmares of assassins? Or when you spoke of intensity, were you speaking of these dreams you’ve just told me of?”

Samuel leaned back to gaze at him fully, anchoring himself with his hands still on Daniel’s face as Daniel’s hazel eyes kept post on Samuel’s mouth, awaiting an answer in whatever form it came.

“No nightmares,” Samuel breathed, feeling rare shame as he admitted it. “I only find nightmares when I think of my life as it is planned out for me, the same way I find dreams when I think of life as I have planned it for myself. When speaking falsely of nightmares, I secretly spoke these dreams to life. At least, I hope I did. Do you suppose I did?”

“Perhaps,” Daniel answered mysteriously. “But we’re not in that realm of reality right now, are we? I recall your ‘lesson’ for this evening was that I was to play the prince and you were to play my princess. Or do you not want that anymore?”

Samuel’s last string of restraint holding him back snapped and he used his grip on Daniel’s jaw to pull their lips together and melt into the desperate, fiery kiss he had dreamed of since the day they had met. Samuel’s lower back reacted innately and arched lightly at the contact, and Daniel’s fingers dug into his clothed skin as they moved together in awkward, blissful harmony. 

While they kissed, Samuel’s mind was following the plots of a hundred, preplanned daydreams that all ended in similar fates of him tangled in bedsheets. Daniel’s mind, on the other hand, was entirely blank. His mind couldn’t begin to paint pictures when his focus was kept solely on the shivering, heavy breathing royal that bruised his lips and pulled at the thick hair nearest his scalp.

“Call me that again,” Samuel begged breathlessly when they had no choice but to break for a breath of fresh air. “Call me what I am in your arms.”

“I will do whatever you ask of me,” Daniel sighed, one hand smoothing down Samuel’s thigh and holding the back of it. “My princess.”

Samuel, betraying the lasting legacy of his intimidating, affluent ancestry, burst into flushed giggles and buried his face in the crook of Daniel’s neck. Daniel let out an airy little laugh of his own and nuzzled his nose into the silken hair by Samuel’s ear.

“My funny little princess,” Daniel hummed. “Spoiled, funny little princess who loves to deceive. I’m left unconvinced you’re prepared for the ways of the Greeks, so I’ll count that as another deceit.”

“No fair,” Samuel lamented, his voice muffled by Daniel’s linen tunic. “Don’t you think we should try nonetheless?”

“As your advisor, I must recommend we begin on a much smaller scale,” Daniel whispered, planting a kiss against Samuel’s hair and squeezing his waist. “We’ll start with having you lay down. Simple enough.”

“I do not want ‘simple’,” Samuel whined further, swinging his leg off of Daniel’s lap and theatrically dropping sideways to land with his head on the pillow. “But I suppose I will be willing to postpone such extremities of the body if it is what you suggest.”

“You are too gracious,” Daniel teased lightly. He took the time to slip off his shoes and then turned to carefully crawl over the prince, still feeling an immense sense of wrongness at making contact with the expensive quilts and sheets. He felt that all too familiar sliver of panic and unease being so close to the prince. However, the returning awareness of the precariousness of the evening quickly faded as Daniel’s face came to hover over Samuel’s, who stared up at him with naivety and his bottom lip tucked gently between his teeth. A sight like this was enough to remind Daniel that he would risk losing his head if it meant getting to see Samuel like this for even a single second more.

“You have me laying now,” Samuel whispered, his cool hands rising to hold Daniel’s jaw once more. “What would be the next course of action?”

“I suppose I…” Daniel trailed off nervously, his eyes fluttering as he looked down the graceful throat of the prince and followed it down to the pearl buttons of his nightshirt. “I would undress you.”

“Proceed then,” Samuel grinned giddily. “We are lucky indeed I have no petticoats and corsets for you to strip me of.”

“You will certainly struggle more than I on your wedding night,” Daniel murmured as he hesitantly began to undo the buttons of Samuel’s shirt. His breath came in sharp shivers as the thoughts of Samuel with another person came in stride with the unveiling of the prince’s smooth skin under his hands. 

“I will struggle because it will not be you I’m with,” Samuel replied with a frown, looking down at Daniel sitting back on his lap to finish undoing the last of the buttons and pushing the thin fabric off of his shoulders and tossing it onto the floor. Samuel took in a shaky breath when Daniel’s fingers hovered along his waistband, but he watched with curiosity as Daniel’s face flickered with conflicted emotion before removing his hands and bowing his head to press a kiss to the bony crest of Samuel’s collarbones, who received the touch with a smothered sound of surprise. Daniel continued kissing along his collarbones and chest, taking a pause in his journey to flatten his tongue over the prince’s nipples, looking up to gauge his reaction and seeing only the underside of Samuel’s jaw as he tossed his head back against the pillow and whimpered. 

“You are exceedingly sensitive,” Daniel noted calmly, beginning a slow descent past Samuel’s ribcage and down his toned stomach. “Is it forbidden to touch yourself before you’re wed?”

“It’s a sin!” Samuel exclaimed, propping himself up on his elbows to face Daniel properly, who looked amused by his sudden outburst. “It is no conjugal matter. You mean to say you do?”

“Who is there to see it happen?”

“God!”

“If He was so insistent on punishing me for a sin as egregious as you make it seem, He would not have blessed me with such ecstasy as you,” Daniel whispered, keeping his eyes on the flushed prince as he kissed just under his belly button. Samuel let out an unbelieving huff of air, allowing one hand to weave itself in the raven dark curls of Daniel’s hair as he shook his head.

“I have laid with a devil,” Samuel muttered, a little breathless as Daniel’s sharp, freckled nose dragged along his skin. Daniel chuckled softly and the hot breath on Samuel’s skin drew another involuntary noise from Samuel, causing him to cringe slightly with embarrassment.

“There is no part of this exchange that is free from what others may define as ‘sin’, fair prince,” Daniel remarked. “But ‘sin’ is only what we make of it. I fear it is often confused with pleasure, which is, in truth, the farthest thing from what I find sinful. But if you so desire, we can pray after all is said and done.”   

“I will decide then,” Samuel insisted, trying hard not to pant as Daniel’s chin pressed against his waistband. “As for now…”

“Ah, yes, your lesson,” Daniel smiled, sitting up once more. “Now, when the time comes, matters of anatomy will be quite different, I hope you know.”

“You think yourself funny,” Samuel groaned, rolling his eyes. “I know quite well.”

“A skilled teacher always checks,” Daniel joked, his fingers now ghosting over the raised lap of the prince. “A pity, truly, that you will not be met with the beauty I know lies under my hand now.” 

Samuel flushed and watched with the heartrate of a hummingbird in flight as Daniel looped his thumbs and began to slowly tug down Samuel’s pants. Before his straining member could meet the cold night air, Samuel found himself reaching out and grasping Daniel’s wrists, who looked at him with a startled expression and rosy cheeks. 

“Do you not think the princess would attend to her prince first?” Samuel asked hurriedly, trying not to sound desperate and finding himself unsuccessful as Daniel’s eyebrow arched curiously. Daniel blinked once before smiling slowly and looking down at where Samuel held him by the arm.

“I suppose it would matter whether the princess felt the obligation,” Daniel started, flicking his forest eyes back up to Samuel’s before finishing his thought. “Or if she felt the want. There is a world of difference between the two sentiments.”

“She would want to,” Samuel answered, releasing his grip on Daniel and leaning in slightly to deliver a look of insistence. “This, I swear. The prince would be crazed to think otherwise.”

“I always feel crazed in your presence, it cannot be helped,” Daniel breathed. He sealed the distance between them with another fervent kiss before pulling back and getting off of the bed, standing tall as a cliff’s face in comparison to the seated prince, who stared up in wonder as Daniel began to remove his shirt. 

“Well, I could have helped with that,” Samuel complained with a pout. Daniel laughed and fully pulled his top off, revealing his broad shoulders and a dark scattering of hair across his toned chest. Samuel’s pout quickly fell at the sight, his dark eyes widening ever so slightly as another one of his dreams came to fruition before his very eyes. Daniel shrank slightly under his gaze as he usually did, but after Samuel reached out mindlessly to brush his fingers against the muscles of his stomach, Daniel found some confidence stored deep inside. 

“If you had helped, you would have dawdled,” Daniel accused, tossing his hair off his shoulder with a flex of his neck as he began to unbutton his simple black pants. “And I trust my princess would want her spoils sooner rather than later, would she not?”

Samuel only nodded in response, feeling incapable of answering with words that would keep him anywhere close to his princely status. Daniel smiled at him fondly as he allowed his pants to fall, leaving him in only his undershorts, which kept his now distracting erection barely covered as it left its outline along the thin, white fabric. Spoiled as ever, Samuel had a hand on it the moment it was freed. He gave one, slow, curious stroke of his hand, allowing soft skin to slide along his palm and wrenching a fluttering groan from the back of Daniel’s throat at the sensation and sight. Daniel inhaled sharply as Samuel’s jaw hung open, staring unabashedly at the length. 

“I will admit I now understand your urgings to proceed with caution,” Samuel stammered. “I will no doubt require an…adjustment period.”

“I will see to it personally,” Daniel purred, taking hold of Samuel’s chin and raising his eyebrows at him encouragingly. “But we mustn’t worry about that tonight. There is much to be done if we are to beat the sunrise.”

Daniel prepared himself to return to the bed, but before he had the chance to move, Samuel dipped his head to purse his lips against the flushed head of Daniel’s cock, leaving a chaste kiss and wrenching a strained groan from Daniel’s throat. The hand on Samuel’s chin swam swiftly into his hair, holding him still so that Daniel was pulled forward into the hot velvet of Samuel’s mouth. Emitting a slight gag, Samuel looked up with watery eyes as he panted around Daniel’s length, finally dragging his tongue along the underside of it and feeling butterflies of affirmation as Daniel’s head fell backwards with a sigh. 

After a few minutes of cautious soothing with his lips and tongue, Samuel leaned back, wiping a small stream of spit off his chin with the heel of his palm.

“Is this alright?” Samuel asked with a slight crack in his voice.

“If it’s not enjoyable for you, you can use your hand,” Daniel instructed through shallow breaths. “Or we can turn attention to you, if you think-”

Samuel answered him by returning his mouth to Daniel’s cock, smiling when he breathed in and allowed further passage into his throat. Daniel resisted the urge to toss his head and stare up at the gracious stars to thank them for bringing him here. Instead, he kept his eyes on the prince and his eager if adorably clumsy pace, enjoying the slow bob of his head as he suckled gently.

“Have you practiced this often in those dreams of yours, Samuel?” Daniel rasped, feeling disappointingly close to finishing. He wanted to stretch this perfect blue night as long as he possibly could before it felt entirely greedy. With his mouth still firmly attached, Samuel gave a slow nod, his head pushing forwards and back with the motion of it and causing Daniel’s eyes to roll into his head reflexively. He thought of Samuel sleeping mere feet from him for months on end dreaming of occasions such as this and reveled privately at the thrill it gave him. Daniel felt almost powerful, and found himself thrusting into the prince’s mouth, who responded with whimpering gags and tears beginning to glimmer in his pale waterline. Had it been only an hour ago, Daniel would have dropped to his knees in a moment at the sight of Samuel in tears. But now, he found it shockingly erotic. 

“You’ve practiced well,” Daniel breathed, nearly unable to speak as all of his senses became lost in the warmth of Samuel’s mouth. “You betray your “innocence” again with your knowledge.”

The prince’s gaze met Daniel’s as he slowly pulled off of him and Daniel registered an amused flicker in the amber of Samuel’s eyes. To Daniel’s surprise, Samuel had no snappy retort to deal in retaliation. Samuel simply kept his eyes firmly on Daniel as he steadied his breathing through flushed, swollen lips and nuzzled his cheek against Daniel’s cock.

“My apologies,” Samuel finally rasped with a creeping smile. “If you were anyone else, you would understand the lengths that someone would go to get you close.”

“How close would you like to be?” Daniel teased, heart racing so fast he feared it would burst before he got to unwrap his regal present entirely. 

“Closer,” whispered the prince, turning inwards to deliver one last kiss to Daniel’s erection before rising to his feet and pressing their bare chests together. “Much closer. Deeper.”

“I told you to wait for that,” Daniel grinned against Samuel’s lips, which were brushing against his as the prince’s hands grasped his exposed waist and smoothed up and over his ribs. Under Samuel’s graceful fingers, Daniel’s skin was as soft and hot as the first rays of sunlight on Samuel’s pillow in the mornings. The prince swallowed thickly at the sensation, losing himself for a moment at the thought of greeting Daniel in his undressed state between sun warmed sheets.

“I don’t want to wait,” Samuel grumbled for the millionth time as he spoke into Daniel’s mouth. 

It was clear he was beyond sullen that he wouldn’t be getting the Grecian love he had so hoped for, and while Daniel always found Samuel’s persistence and lamenting overwhelmingly endearing, there was a flicker of irritation inside him at having to repeat himself so frequently. There was so much of him that was still terrified to speak sharply to the prince, but then he became assured in the remembrance that this evening was free of consequence for him. Daniel’s hand snaked around the small of Samuel’s back and drew Sam even closer at his request, keeping Daniel’s member trapped between them in a self made chamber of warmth and reactive muscles. 

“When you stand as I do, you will have just as little tolerance for any incessant needling from your princess,” Daniel murmured in a firm hush as he watched Samuel’s eyes widen from his words and the new presence pressed against his stomach. “You will respect my authority on this matter, do you understand me? You will wait and you will air no more grievances about it.”

“I understand,” Samuel answered hurriedly, his voice as weak as Daniel could ever imagine but his tone was enthusiastic in a way that spilled over into the shaking urgency of his hands as they dug into Daniel’s flesh and pulled him into a steamy kiss. Samuel followed an instinct and opened his mouth against Daniel’s to dip his tongue in, whimpering softly when he felt Daniel smile. Enveloped in warmth, Samuel needed more.

“Daniel,” Samuel whined as Daniel’s mouth traveled across his cheek and along his jaw. “Lay with me. Test my patience no more.”

Instead of answering with a sharp tongued quip like he wanted to, Daniel bowed to his whim and placed a firm hand on Samuel’s chest to gently push him backwards onto the plush mattress. He, too, could wait no longer. With eyes closed and tongues shyly lapping at each other, they managed to maneuver themselves under the blankets and Samuel went as limp as a rag doll to assist Daniel with sliding his pajama pants off. With them both entirely exposed, Daniel lowered himself further down onto Samuel’s body and grinned wickedly against Samuel’s lips when the prince sighed into his mouth at the relief of their skin touching so solidly. Without even meaning to, Daniel’s hips reacted and gently ground into Samuel’s own narrow hips, jolting Daniel with a silken electricity that reminded him that he had neglected to get a good look at the prince’s own erection.

“Look at you, princess mine,” Daniel rumbled with a smile, straightening to sit with his knees pressing against the backs of Samuel’s thighs and admire the sight before him. “Divine, are you not? There’s no breath left in my chest.”

Samuel simply stared up at him as he panted for air, his eyes alight with a greedy gleam and his thick hair already frazzled and clinging to his neck and cheeks in sweaty rivulets. He looked desperate and, for the first time, wholly unroyal. With Daniel’s hand between them, they made eye contact and Daniel was struck by Samuel’s needy humanity. Daniel curled his wrist over Samuel’s slim cock a few times as he glided his fist from shaft to tip, which wrenched out a chesty groan from behind Samuel’s clenched teeth. But knowing what he knew about Samuel, he abandoned that venture quickly in favor of another proper demonstration. Samuel answered this with a frustrated outcry, grabbing at Daniel’s hand to attempt to replace it from where he’d removed it, but Daniel pulled away. He was to be Samuel’s teacher, after all. There was no time to waste.

“As I said prior, there will be a difference in anatomy,” Daniel explained breathlessly, skimming his hands up and down Samuel’s slim thighs. “I will attempt to remedy this to the best of my ability to aid in my teaching.”

“Please,” Samuel weakly responded. “Hurry. You torture me.”

“You are theatrical,” Daniel teased, guiding Samuel’s legs so his thighs pressed together and were drawn halfway up to his chest. “This will be far from torturous.”

Samuel propped himself up on his elbows and scrutinized the odd position Daniel was holding him in with his dark eyebrows drawn together and his flushed lip in a pout. 

“Most unusual,” Samuel commented snidely. “And how would you say this-”

Before Samuel could continue his chiding comment, Daniel rose slightly and pressed the tip of his dick between Samuel’s thighs, clamping them together impossibly tighter around his length as he slid it along the supple furnace of the prince’s skin. In doing so, he found that when buried to the hilt between the prince’s thighs, he was sliding alongside Samuel’s own flushed cock. They both sighed moans of appreciation at the touch and Daniel flexed his hips backward to retrieve himself from Sam, pulling out entirely only to spit in his palm, soothe the saliva over his cock, and then return it to the valley he’d created for himself and their aching lengths.

“God,” Samuel whimpered through a shivering groan. “You are His mercy.”

“Is it too much?” Daniel worried as he struggled to halt the quickening pace he was setting for himself. Samuel let out a harsh bray of a laugh and his head fell back.

“Not enough,” Samuel complained haughtily, tensing his thighs and making Daniel swallow a squeak at the ecstasy of tight muscle. “Are you always so gentle?”

“Would you prefer me to not be gentle?” Daniel asked with an arched brow, leaning further over Samuel so that the tips of their noses were touching. “Consider it a test of what you’ve learned thus far, and since you know so much already, your Majesty, I expect you to answer correctly. Tell me: what would the princess most prefer?”

“He’d prefer it faster,” Samuel whispered, wearing a mischievous smile and daring to reach out his rosy tongue and lick across Daniel’s bottom lip. “Much faster.”

“He?” Daniel questioned with amusement, his tensed hips aching for movement but feeling unwilling to give the palace brat what he wanted too quickly.

“He,” Samuel confirmed, his own brow arching in a mockery of Daniel’s. “There will be no princess but I. I’m going to steal you away before they even get the chance to try and find me one. You have my word on that.”

“Steal me away to ride horses and sit side by side?” Daniel echoed with a cocky grin of his own, stealing Samuel’s words from when he’d been sat in his lap. 

“Yes,” Samuel giggled in affirmation. “Not only that. We can watch the sun set over the hills. I could even sleep in your arms. Perhaps we’ll do all of those things for a very long time.”

Daniel’s stomach tensed in a different way then, twisting with longing so strong that he felt his heart reaching for Samuel’s own as their chests hovered over the other. They stared at each other for a moment that seemed to reach so long that it sent them out of time and space; into their own pocket of the world where seconds passed so slowly that they had nothing to do but study the face of the man they were beginning to love.

“I would like that,” Daniel replied softly. “Very much.”

“Wonderful,” Sam smiled, hands coming to rest on Daniel’s jaw. “Don’t forget to make love to me first. Or have you forgotten?”

“How could I?” Daniel purred, drawing his hips back and then forward so he could slide up against Samuel’s cock nice and slow. “When you feel this good? Never.”

The prince replied with a broken moan and cried out when Daniel began to thrust enthusiastically, fucking his thighs and member subsequently as Daniel’s ragged breaths moistened his lips and sent his head spinning. Samuel reached as best he could from his position and his state of mind to pull the covers up higher over Daniel’s waist and back, adding lustrous fabric and humidity that dewed on their skin deliciously. The friction, the weight of Daniel all over him, the drip of sweat into his mouth and rolling along his chest, the untouchable high of getting what he wanted…

Samuel was drunk. 

Struck dumb.

And, in a moment’s time, cumming hard and hot on his stomach with his eyes rolled into his head and his nails digging into his guard’s shoulders. Daniel took note of it immediately, unable to look away from the mess the prince had made for them both to enjoy. He watched it trickle and glide against the flush of his own erection, providing a delicious new sensation as his thrusts grew erratic to signal the beginning of the end.

“Sam,” Daniel choked out, letting out a follow up gasp before coming to a shaky halt and spilling into the pool of cum that Samuel had already made. Samuel went entirely slack and sunk against the pillow and mattress, uncharacteristically calm and quiet as Daniel’s arms struggled to hold him up any longer and his breaths punched out in raspy huffs. 

Blindly, Samuel reached out to the side and pulled a richly embroidered handkerchief from the pocket of the pajama shirt he’d long abandoned in favor of his carnal lesson. Ever the prince, he weakly held it up for Daniel, who took it from him with a chuckle and laboriously wiped down Samuel’s stomach. Samuel plucked it from his fingers and dramatically tossed it to the side, into the dark of the room that seemed to rematerialize around Daniel for the first time in what felt like ages. With his head clear and his dick softening, he remembered where he was done. What he’d just done. 

And then, before he began to spiral in the expanse of reality crashing down on him, Daniel felt a tender hand reaching for the soft hair at his temple and fingers sliding against his scalp soothingly. He looked back down at the prince and was overwhelmed by his beauty; Samuel with his half lidded eyes and ruddy cheeks seemed to be somehow glowing as Daniel drank in the sight of him. His prince. Samuel’s dreamy smile lingered as he stared into Daniel’s dark eyes, expression slowly growing somber and contemplative as he continued to trace loving rows through the waves at Daniel’s right temple.

“Daniel,” Samuel breathed, his devotion as evident as if his name were a prayer. “Get me out of here.”

Daniel inhaled steadily, the heavy blanket of protectiveness he harbored towards his little prince bearing down on him then like the hand of justice choosing him as its weapon. At first he said nothing, instead leaning down and pressing an impassioned kiss against Samuel’s accepting lips. He let the kiss stretch on, welcoming the quiet warmth of Samuel’s tongue in his mouth and humming at the comfort. Then they parted and Daniel spoke, his vow relayed in a low and serious tone.

“I swear,” Daniel promised. “Soon these will be all our nights. This, I swear.” 

After a few minutes of convincing, Daniel agreed to settle into the bed and hold the prince until he fell asleep. Daniel kept him flush against his chest and waited what seemed to be only a moment or two until Samuel was breathing steadily, his closed eyes darting around in a dream. Daniel couldn’t resist kissing his sleeping face with featherlight touch and tracing the bridge of his nose as Samuel had done to him earlier in the night. Silently vowing again that someday soon, Samuel would wake up in one of his dreams, where Daniel would be waiting with open arms and a racing heart. Daniel would honor the promise he’d made to his prince time and time again and deliver exactly what Samuel demanded of him. 

No matter the consequences.

~~~

[evelynpr]

Might be a hot take as a bkdk and tgck truther here, but I find izuocha endlessly fascinating, beautiful, but also tearfully tragic.

I see their love for each other as something representative of their innocence and naivety when they only knew so little about who they were, and what was to come.

I think the main barrier of their relationship is that its rooted in how they see each other very idealistically, specifically that they're attached to the image of their Best Heroic Selves, and not the deeply selfish, destructive, freaky, and egotistical parts of them. To each other, they need to keep fulfilling that image or else that same person they looked up to would almost die in front of them, and that would be too cruel. Although that hero is still there, that same person they looked up to is not the same now because of...well...everything.

Izuku had barely even talked to girls when he first met her. She was Izuku's first ever real friend (Sorry Kats, everyone and him knows he was terrible), so he saved her in that entrance exam even if it was so dangerous. She gave a new meaning to his derogatory nickname just by being a friend that believed in him. After that, she saved him several more times (Blackwhip and Megaphone are the biggest samples iirc). It makes perfect sense that she is Deku's hero.

Ochako hardly knew what it meant to be a hero when she first got into UA. Just by reaching out to some kid tripping, she made a new friend who would then save her in that exam, then save him again in return. This boy then became someone who was always working so hard to save everyone in trouble, and she realized she wanted to be just like him too. "I want to save people"

But...Deku changes. The weight of One for All is on his shoulders and he needs someone to carry this burden with him. He continues to want to save other people at the expense of himself, still not letting his true selfishness and ego ever show- and it only grows more and more unbearable.

Then...Ochako fell in love with Himiko. Truly, relentlessly, selfishly and devotedly in love with a girl who then dies giving her blood to her- the greatest expression of love Himiko could ever give.

Not that they can't love each other because of this happening (and...so many other things oh god), I'm honestly not sure how to explain it- But them ending up together after losing that innocence and naivety? After Ochako will forever grieve the girl who showed her love in its most beautiful and ugly form? After Izuku changed so fundamentally as a person that the butterflies of a nice girl talking to you doesn't exist anymore? After that simple image of being a hero and being in love has completely changed for them both?

Even so, I believe they still love each other. There is no label I know of that can properly describe them though. They are each other's image of being a hero when it comes to saving people. Aside from Shoto, no one else can grasp the grief of the person you tried to save dying in your hands. They would no doubt try to cope with these losses together, and just try to get better together...but so much has changed. They've changed. The world changed. What are they now? Who are they now?

"What happened...to us?"

[sp4ceboo]

CHAPTER 6 ~ CALM BEFORE THE STORM

beneath a crimson sky masterlist | ch 1 | ch 2 | ch 3 | ch 4 | ch 5 | ch 6

pairing: stray kids ot8 x afab!reader

genre: apocalypse au, dystopian, dark, adventure, action, thriller, fighting, eventual smut, romance

a/n: apologies for the sparse updates i swear i'm still alive, icl i have beef with this chapter in terms of characterisations but the next chapter is my lil baby so yall can look forward to that

chapter warnings: large amounts of crying, swearing, panic attacks, mentions of mind control, for some reason i really like The Hello Kitty Blanket, not much else but i probably forgot at least 1 thing

chapter word count: 3.6k

When you wake, you are lucid. Too lucid, it seems, because you recall your dreams with such clarity that you throw up, emptying the meagre contents of your churning stomach into a bucket someone had handily placed by your side. You do not want to believe what you’ve seen, so you chalk it down to the fever.

It’s early in the morning, and Jisung lies propped up against the wall beside the makeshift bed the boys must have made you, heavily asleep, a half full bottle of water held loosely in his hands. You manage to heave yourself upright, and it’s only then that you notice the rope tied loosely around your wrists and ankles, tied to the foot of the centrifuge and tethering you down.

Your stomach twists. Felix. You hurt Felix.

And yet, Jisung snores peacefully beside you. There is a calm in his slumbering face, a tranquility. He feels safe to sleep beside you, and no one has deigned to disturb him from his position - then, they don’t blame you, nor do they fear you.

Hesitantly, almost expecting your body to disobey your orders, you reach out and pluck the bottle from his grasp, taking careful sips until it’s finished. With a glance behind you, you notice Jeongin has sat up, rubbing his eyes, and that Chan is making his way towards you. He looks a little paler than before, and the semicircles beneath his eyes are darker.

You cannot imagine for the life of you why they have stayed and looked after you.

Unbidden, a smile finds its way onto your face as he approaches, and it widens when he returns it, his dimples appearing in his cheeks. Relief is clear on him, in the slight sag of his shoulders and release of tension in his brow, as if a heavy load has been lifted from him.

“Hey,” he whispers, crouching beside you, eyes bright and hope filled as he unties you. “I knew you would make it.”

“Chan,” you say, and suddenly your voice and smile are wobbly.

You reach out your hand, simply intending to grab ahold of his hoodie and remind yourself that you’re fine now, that they didn’t leave you even though they should have, but he goes one step further and engulfs you in his arms. Breath shaky, you close your eyes, holding onto him as tightly as you can.

Chan is warm and solid, and he smells ridiculously like clean laundry despite the fact that none of you have gone near a washing machine in weeks. It feels as if he is keeping you whole, as if you might crumble apart if he lets go. You squeeze your eyes shut and breathe him in.

You’re able to find your voice once your face is hidden in the safety of his shoulder. “Did I hurt anyone?”

“No,” he says, and you can’t tell if he’s lying or not. “You were pretty weak when that stage set in.”

You nod, trying to find words. “How - how long was I out?”

“Just under a week.”

Your jaw drops. “A week?”

“Yeah,” he says. “The next ship hasn’t landed yet. We met three guys looking for the rest of their group. The leader - his name was Hongjoong - has dubbed it the Reprieve. I just think it’s the calm before the storm.”

You blink. “You talked to someone? Were any of them sick?”

Getting to his feet, Chan shakes his head. “I don’t think anyone has been since the first horseman’s ship took off.”

Grabbing his hand, you stop him. “Thank you, Chan. You - you didn’t have to put yourself or the boys in danger for me, but you did, anyway.”

“I did what I’d do if it happened to any of us,” he says, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world to him.

You’re about to reply, but you’re cut off by a drawn out gurgle from your stomach. Chan chuckles, his dimples appearing again. He is so bright, so clear, that it is hard to believe the shadows could even survive while he was there.

“I��ll get you some food in a second,” he grins. “Minho, Changbin, Felix, Seungmin, Jeongin and I are going out on a supply run. We don’t know how long the Reprieve will last so we’re going to try and stock up as much as possible in case we need to hole up when the second horseman comes.”

Briefly, you consider volunteering yourself too, but although you feel healed, you’ve been out for the last week and you need to rest. No doubt Chan would refuse to let you come along, anyway - he hands you a can of pasta shapes drowning in synthetic tasting tomato sauce, and you scarf it down while the lab begins to fill with life as the others wake up.

Felix bounds over and hugs you, followed closely by Hyunjin. You scan the former’s face for any signs of fear or hurt, but he beams at you, and your soul feels a warmth it hasn’t in a long time. There’s a beauty in his smile that is so hard to come by, now.

All of the boys greet you once they’ve woken up, even Minho, who kind of just stares at you like he can’t believe you’re alive. You don’t blame him. Hope is rising in your chest, the same way it shines in Jisung’s eyes when he jerks awake to see you conscious and radiates from Jeongin’s smile, because despite it all, you survived Pestilence, and if you survived the first horseman, maybe there’s a chance you’ll all be able to live through the next ones.

The hope rises so high that you dismiss your fever dreams. It lingers, wonderfully so, and rests on you, Hyunjin and Jisung after the others go out on the supply run, filling the three of you with bubbling laughter as the hours pass.

And then, abruptly, it falls short.

The sun is setting, painting the already red sky redder, and the others do not return. They do not come bustling through the door, laden with plastic bags full of supplies. Their voices do not echo down the street as they make their way back to the lab.

There are plenty of reasons they could have been delayed. They could be lost, or maybe they met that guy called Hongjoong again, yet you can’t help but feel the sinking feeling of despair re-enter your chest, when before you’d been so light and happy and hopeful. Hyunjin stares down at his lap and picks nervously at his cuticles. You glare worriedly out the window, tapping your foot on the floor.

Jisung begins to hyperventilate.

Immediately, you scoot over until you sit on the floor beside him. He’s rocking back and forth, his hands clenched into fists so hard that you know his nails must be digging painfully into his skin. His worry is contagious, settling in your bones and creeping into the back of your mind, armed with doubt.

Hyunjin is frozen where he is sat, and for a terrible, mind numbing moment, you feel painfully out of your depth - you know you could fight to protect him, but this is not something you know how to deal with. Minho or Chan would know what to do, not you.

Still, you prise his hands open so you can hold them. Positioning yourself so he can feel the press of your front against his back, you grip him tight enough for him to stop rocking. You tell yourself that the others will come back, repeating those words like a mantra, and even though you cannot fully deceive yourself, it steadies you nonetheless.

“Breathe with me,” you command, in a voice that leaves no room for arguing - a voice that sounds just like Chan’s.

Jisung’s breathing stutters, his chest heaving with the effort of it, but he fights to obey you, and you hold him close to you, grounding him even when his grasp on your fingers begins to sting with how hard he squeezes them. His trembling begins to ease up, and you loosen your arms on him, but he grips onto your wrist, keeping you wrapped around him. Carefully, you stroke his hair, keeping your breathing slow and deliberate.

“I’m here,” you soothe. “Jinnie’s here as well, okay?”

He twists in your arms so he can face you. Tears have tracked down his cheeks, and you wipe them away with your thumbs, a tight ache developing in your chest when his face crumples and he hides himself in your embrace again. Hyunjin shuffles over, resting his head on your shoulder and stroking a hand down Jisung’s back. You realise he’s shaking too.

“What if the next wave starts and they’re out there?” Jisung asks quietly.

“We’d have seen the ship coming down,” you tell them firmly, pushing back flashes of your dreams that crowd your head. “It’s not over yet.”

Hyunjin nods against your shoulder, a little sniffle escaping him. You wrap an arm around his shoulder and bring him a little closer, resting your chin on his head. The three of you stay like that for a while, tangled together as you listen to the sound of your heartbeats; there is a tension filling the lab not unlike the tightness in the air before rainfall, and you attempt to tamp down your worries, keeping them to yourself when the sky becomes the darker than the deepest of red wines and stars begin to wink to life.

This is the calm before the storm. You’re just afraid that your own, more personal storm might have arrived before the big one.

“I hate them,” Jisung announces after a while, and his arms tighten around you.

“The aliens?” You ask.

He nods. “I don’t care if they hear. I hope they hear - I hope they know I hate them for what they’ve taken from us.”

He has raised his head from where it was resting on your shoulder, and there is a fire in his eyes that you have not seen before, paired with pain woven through with a bitter sort of determination - the type derived from spite, the dogged tenacity to survive. A lump grows in your throat. You pull him close again, burying your face in his hair so he and Hyunjin don’t see the tears welling at your lash line.

You hate the aliens too. You hate them for their fucking games and stupid horsemen, you hate the way they’ve invaded your sky, you hate that they have broken millions of hearts and torn families apart. And now, if the others don’t come back, another family will have been lost.

The waiting makes you feel helpless. Restless, you pace circles in your mind, wondering whether you should go out and search for them, but that would leave Jisung and Hyunjin alone, and the next horseman could arrive at any time. You want something to do, something to put your mind off the worry, but there is nothing. All you can do is pull the two of them closer to you and soothe them with hollow words.

You’re about to suggest trying to eat something when the sound of footsteps approaches. You’re all on your feet in seconds, hurtling to the door, and before you can think to caution him, Hyunjin has shoved it open and looks out with wild hope bright in his eyes.

It’s dark outside. You can see silhouettes making their way towards you, their heads bowed tiredly, and though you can’t see their faces, you know for sure now - it’s not over yet. It won’t ever be over, as long as you’re all together and breathing.

Jisung sprints out into the street and hurls himself right into Minho’s arms.

You slump against the doorframe, relief swamping any anger you felt at them for coming back so late. Minho has dropped his bags and is gripping Jisung tight, his nose buried in the younger man’s hair, eyes squeezed closed - the sight is poignant enough to make your vision blur with unshed tears, vanquishing the tension that had been pervading your body for the last few hours. You step into Felix’s arms, your knees feeling as if they may give out any second.

“What happened?” You breathe out, sheltering in his embrace.

“There were dogs,” he replies, patting your back soothingly. “We were stuck balancing on top of a food shelving unit until they got bored and left. I’m sorry, we came back as fast as we could.”

You almost find it in you to laugh. All that worry, while the boys were camped out on the top shelf, waiting for animals that used to be beloved pets to lose interest in them. It feels as if you should take it as a warning, a reminder that you should take nothing for granted, but it fills you with a vicious triumph instead - they came back, and that’s what matters.

You squeeze him hard enough that he squeaks. “Don’t be sorry. Just, I was - we were scared. Shitless. Don’t ever do that again, you fucker.”

He laughs, and suddenly, with that bright sound ringing sweetly through the air, everything is alright again.

Everything continues to be alright until, a few hours later, you all decide to sleep, and though you are not alone as you once were, the dreams still come.

Snatches of laughter echo in your ears. Grasping, shadowy fingers tear at your hair and clothes. A blonde woman and a bronze skinned man, reduced to nothing but puppets, command swathes and swathes of survivors.

Reaping more than should ever be taken, great slaughter and boundless hunger ravages the land. There is only endless falling, like you are trapped in the vast pull of a black hole.

Eventually, you wrest yourself from the visions' claws.

Panting, sweat breaking out all over your skin in sharp prickles, you sit up, kicking the blanket off you. You pause for a moment, listening. Tonight is a rare night where Chan is actually asleep - his breathing is deeper and far slower than it is when he lies with his eyes closed, pretending. He is still next to you, frighteningly so, and you wish you could not so easily imagine him lifeless beside you.

Moonlight bleeds from the crack in the blinds, alighting on Hyunjin’s shoulders and spilling from them like a crimson cloak. His head is bent towards someone else, a slighter figure, with light hair, blonde hair -

She’s here.

And then you realise that the blonde is slightly grown out, that it’s far too glossy and a little too short to be hers. You deflate in relief. It’s just Felix. When he turns his face towards you, you see his sweet eyes and his freckles, and wonder how you could have ever seen his hair and mistaken him for her, even in the near darkness and from across the room.

Felix smiles and beckons you over, and you get up, keeping your footsteps quiet. The two of them have tucked the Hello Kitty blanket around them - a glance over your shoulder reveals that Changbin is now sharing Seungmin’s blanket, tucking himself tight against the younger man’s back, even in sleep. Hyunjin opens the blanket on his side, and you gratefully wedge yourself in.

The lab air is cold and a little biting, as if there aren’t solid walls separating you from outside, but you feel warmed by their actions, by the openness blooming so plainly on both their faces that it makes your heart ache.

“Nightmares?” Felix asks.

Mutely, you nod.

“Do you want to talk about yours?” Hyunjin asks. “Sometimes it helps.”

You blanch. Telling them of your fever dreams feels like speaking truth into them, like giving them the power to become real. There’s a chance that they’re just the substance of your terrified mind, but they have a strange quality to them, like the humming, disastrous tone of a prophecy. Not telling them could be withholding information that might be valuable.

“I had these visions when I was ill,” you blurt, then quieten your voice. “I don’t know if they were visions or dreams. Either way, they showed the next three horsemen.”

Hyunjin sucks in a sharp breath, stiffening beside you. Although he doesn’t say anything, Felix reaches out and squeezes your hand, and you cling to him like he’s your anchor, willing yourself to continue. It is harder than expected to describe what you saw - the images flash before your eyes, the scents and the sounds right in your head, and yet your tongue is stiff in your mouth with fear and dread.

“The one coming now is War. He…” You struggle with your words, wondering how many details are needed. “I think he possessed these two people. They’re supposed to be generals of some sort, maybe. Once he looked at them, they were his.”

Hyunjin curses under his breath. A rustle sounds nearby, like the sound of someone rolling over, and you glance up, aware that your voice had risen and taken on a panicked edge near the end of your sentence. Jeongin is stirring, but soon he relaxes, and you twist the blanket in your fingers, worrying at a loose thread.

“Keep going,” Felix urges.

“The third one is Famine. She was terrible, but beautiful too,” you murmur, unable to meet their eyes. “This one was hazier. I just remember the hunger, so strong that I would have done anything to destroy it. It felt like my body was changing, too, but I think that part was symbolic of something. Like the weighing scales she had.”

“Symbolic, like of the monsters humanity is becoming?” Hyunjin says, the horror clear in his voice.

Swallowing harshly, you press on. “The last was Death. There are blurry parts, parts I can't focus on, like what he said to me, but I remember other bits. Falling. What he looked like. I was - ” Your voice cracks. “ - terrified. That’s the clearest bit. The fear. I was helpless.”

Felix squeezes your hand. “We’ll - we’ll make it through. We’ll survive them.”

You can’t fathom how strong he must be to say that.

“Please don’t tell the others,” you whisper. “In case it’s not true, and it was all just some crazy fever dream. I - I don’t want to scare them. Chan will worry.”

“I agree,” Felix replies. “We don’t know if it’s real.” He squeezes your hand again. “Thank you for telling us.”

“Thank you for listening,” you mumble.

What you really mean is: thank you for staying, thank you for looking after me while I was under Pestilence’s hold, while I went crazy and could have killed or hurt you all. They are insane, for risking their own lives for you, merciful where the end of the world should have hardened their hearts.

Hyunjin is silent. You are too afraid to glance over and look him in the eyes, for fear that you will be condemned by what you will see in them. He doesn’t say anything for a long time, just huddles under the blanket with the rest of you, and you wonder if he hates you for being the bearer of news that could be the death of every person in this room.

You wouldn’t be surprised if that is the case, yet when he finally turns to you, he hugs you tight - tight enough to squeeze all the air out of your lungs, yet it doesn’t suffocate you. It feels like he’s holding you together, just like it did with Chan.

You allow a few of your tears to soak into his shirt before you pull yourself together.

When you raise your head, you realise Hyunjin is crying too, and yet the tears streaking down his cheeks look like war paint. He looks strong, like a warrior prince, and fearsome. Though he weeps, it is the farthest thing from a weakness.

And then he yawns, rubs at his face, and he is just sleepy, Hello-Kitty-blanket-around-his-shoulders Hyunjin again. Still, you see the remnants of that magnificence, and you know that although it has receded, it is as much a part of him as the tired but brave smile he sends you when he catches you looking.

“Shall we go back to sleep?” Felix asks.

You nod, and Hyunjin stands, wiping his eyes and holding the blanket around his neck like a cape. A smile tugs at your lips, and he grins down at you, doing a little twirl - the soft fabric flares out at the bottom, and you duck to avoid getting smacked in the face by it, opening your mouth to tell him that he looks like some sort of Sanrio monarch.

A keen whine splits the air like a guillotine.

The colour drains from Felix’s face, and his eyes dart immediately to the window. Hyunjin freezes. Suddenly, Jeongin is up, and he rolls right out from under the blankets and onto his feet, crossing the room to the window so he can yank the blind open. Baffled, you follow his gaze, and your heart sinks.

It’s a ship. The next horseman is coming.

You haven’t heard the sound of one of their ships before - you’d been delirious - but there’s no doubt left in your mind as one of the dark specks in the sky detaches from the others and arcs towards the ground like a falling star.

The Reprieve is over.

taglist: @estella-novella @0bticeo @lixies-favorite-cookie @smashleywow @realrintaro @extremechaoswarning @4l17h4 @hyunjinsjeans @insufferablyunbearable @lovemepie67 @needsumcomfypillowstosleep @loumin908 @rxlvvrz @iris-iiridescent @brbwritingfanfic @missseoulite @juliettejwnewinesa (let me know if you want to be added)

[mayuris-basement-dweller]

Ok I am finally ready. Ready to tell you what happened 100 years ago, Link.

I am ready to put ideas into words. To start, be aware I am the biggest Mayuri simp fan this side of the Equatorial line, so if I sound biased... People, that's Blorbo Beebus.

With that out of the way...

About the latest episode!

Let's start with what I liked. Everything. There's nothing wrong here and you won't find complaints with me, roll credits.

So this model won't work. Let's try again.

✨Highlight Reel! Part 1!✨

- Ryusei. friggin. Nakao

This man was always good. As a singer he is stellar (Angel Calling, my beloved, LISTEN TO IT) but as a voice actor? SON.

We all know he also voiced Caesar Clown (OP) and Frieza (DBZ/DBS) but if you notice, he voices each of them in a very peculiar way.

And Mayuri's voice always had me weak in the knees. Szayelaporro's fight, in particular, used to take me very near to the Soul King.

And I say "used to" because this episode kinda pushed Szayel's episode down a set of stairs for me.

Again, I have so much to say but words fail me. But we gotta start somewhere.

Let's start with the obvious?!

You watched the episode. You are hearing it in your head right now, aren't you? YEAH. It almost sounds like he held this in for eons just waiting to launch it on the unsuspecting crowd. This laugh... Every time I am sad now, I just remind myself this exists, and my depression respectfully lets me enjoy this fact for three seconds.

Am I also concerned babygirl might be having a particularly dangerous Mania episode and playing a bit of Russian Roulette? Yes.

Still in this episode... All of the times Mayuri talks with Zaraki, but I will elaborate on that further later.

Another example? Here.

The way he is talking about how Pernida should honor Zaraki's noble sacrifice and the way his voice keeps going louder and more insane by the minute, culminating in his best Yandere performance in the third frame, just to do a 360 and call Pernida a stiff?!

I still haven't recovered.

It goes from "Oh he is enjoying himself so much you guys" in the first half to "Oh damn, that is Captain Kurotsuchi now, eh" in the second.

This episode, for me, wasn't only a visual delight, i was literally boiling alive because Ryusei knocked it out of three parks, not only one.

Also I gotta include, since we talking about voice actors...

Pernida.

Dude. Bin Shimada, Broly, THANK YOU.

That's like two kings in a room, I swear. Part of the fact I kinda like Pernida is because of his voice alone. This part here, you can almost see a ? on his... Fingers. Gestures? I dunno! But he managed to give a soul to a hand. A HAND.

And how does he even talk?! Disturbing.

Now onto the next section! (Or else I will keep going about all the voice actors!)

- Kenmayu

Everyone that knows me saw this coming a mile away. Look, even disregarding my ship, please. Ever since the last episode before this one.

Mayuri talks. Zaraki doesn't listen. Shenanigans ensue.

You can see how they are literally opposites to each other. Mayuri is analyzing everything and all Zaraki wanna do is smack that thang (hehe) real hard. It backfires tremendously. TWICE.

Because Zaraki didn't listen!

(And no, Yumichika, Mayuri doesn't have a big bad plan to fuck your captain up. At least not IMHO, he might have a plan, yes. But it's not what you think, oh no.)

But lemme just...

The way Mayuri talks to Zaraki.

It's an amalgamation of things. There's sarcasm, there's contempt, and flirting. Yes, flirting, because look me in the eye and say this wasn't flirting.

If Mayuri looked at me like that he would have a new subject, me.

But I am jumping the gun here! The scene before this one?!

I will have to do a part two because I reached the picture limit but...

The pure. Unadulterated. Concern. In Mayuri's voice here.

Mayuri is concerned with Zaraki. Zaraki immediately tells him not to worry too.

The same Mayuri that is famous for being ruthless, a lunatic, and heartless as hell is concerned for someone else.

Not only that, when Zaraki is forced to cut his arm so Pernida stops doing the twist™, Mayuri asks Nemu to tie his arm and stop the bleeding.

Some of you will tell me "He stabbed him right after!" And yes he did, young Padawan, but there's a method in his madness. And if you go and listen to that scene too, Mayuri goes back to talk to Zaraki like... In a "I am so sorry for hurting you, babe" tone. Whatchamacallit.... Ah yes! Conciliatory!

And even so, he says "When I stab you again."

He expects Zaraki to survive. To go back to Seireitei after this fight. God, he is telling Zaraki, right near his paralyzed self, that he will return and that he will be there to stab him again. In his own twisted Kurotsuchi way he is giving Zaraki a bit of hope.

This hurts me on a physical level, because I have an idea about this whole thing, but you guys will have to hold onto the single dark clue I will leave behind:

*What if both of them didn't go back?*

Well, Part 2 I guess! I have too many thoughts!

[itwdoris]

RAHHHH YESSSSS HAIRY MEGUMIIIII RAHHHH HAIR MEN RAHHHHH MEN HAPPY TRAILS MY TOES ARE CURLING IM DYING YTEARS IN MA EYES😭😭😭😭😭 PLSPSLSPSLSLOSLS IM SO THIRSTYYYYYYYYYRAHHHH

megumi is a big cuddlebug, even if he didn't admit it, he never spoke out loud but you knew when he wanted affection. it was almost a pattern, he would stop next to you for a few seconds and look at you quickly, then would come a little closer until he was close enough for you to grab him.

sometimes he just stood there with his arms folded, waiting, he was either very patient or very embarrassed. but not here to talk about that, in fact, the subject is;

megumi is hairy.

if you count that the older fushiguro is, it's not a surprise that he is also, despite the fact that he walked around with his body covered in his clothes and always kept his face well shaved, you wouldn't have noticed so much. but there was something, and you found out when you two got together.

he wasn't too ashamed or anything, but he didn't have to confess it for you to understand that he felt "nervous" when you touched it or looked at him.

like now, when he's by your side wanting you because he's so needy, wanting to smell you, wanting to squeeze you. so you move a little closer, listening to him breathe deeply; satisfied, as you snuggle up next to him on the bed.

you can not only feel but also see the slightly defined and slender arms enveloping you little by little, little hairs adorning them, almost cute, walking to the beginning of the back of his hands. you made an effort to take your arms out of the wrapping, gently, running your hand over them lightly, looking so amazed.

not just because of this ones, but from his whole body, his arms almost softs, his legs that tickled you sometimes under the covers, his beard that he rarely let show, that you loved to feel lightly pinching your face. straight as his hair, but when they were too big, they started to make cute curves, even if you've only seen it that way once or twice at most.

but your favorite was definitely the ones on his torso.

feeling your hand go up his arm was so good when you were playing, tugging lightly and making it stay in place again,but nothing compared to when you put your hand inside his blouse, caressing him with your fingertips, which made him shiver and sigh so pleasantly.

and hearing megumi's sighs so close to your ear was so good, you could see his eyes slowly closing to relax, another hand going up to his hair to stroke it while he tried to turn to lie on his front and just feel you clinging to him, caressing him.

he loved it, even if he wouldn't admit it out loud. you knew that, pulling the hem of his shirt up a little to get more access, seeing the little belly fucking cute and slightly defined, a small trail of black hair going up but getting lost before reaching his chest.

you lay your head on his shoulder while he rested his head on yours, feeling his arm still holding you from behind, running your hand through his pretty hairs.

his belly rising and falling every time you put your hand down a little too far and the circles that were supposed to be on his free skin began to circle the hem of his underpants. a dangerous area.

he sighed softly, raising his hips just a little, involuntarily wanting more of your fingers, you almost smiled. opening his eyes to look, turning slightly to hug you again, mumbling quietly, pulling you as close as possible.

but please, keep caressing him, keep touching his hairs.

don't throw stones at me, i know it's short!! i left work thinking about it so did it now because my head worked, the previous draft was kinda bad 2. think it's rushed, but it could be because i was thinking fast and it ended up like this--

but anyway! miss u my loves, hope you like that <3 ( megumi will still have justice here at some point..

[giovanni-fiore]

The house was quiet, save for the occasional creak of the old wooden floors and the soft rustling of leaves outside. Giovanni sat in the dimly lit parlor, a glass of scotch in hand, the amber liquid catching the faint glow of the single lamp he had left on. Antonio and Nicola had gone to bed hours ago, but sleep felt like a distant concept to him tonight.

He stared at the untouched book on the side table, its pages closed as if mocking his inability to focus. The weight of the past had wrapped itself around his thoughts, pulling him deeper into memories he usually tried to avoid.

The scotch burned as it slid down his throat, but he welcomed the distraction. It didn’t last long. His mind drifted to Giovanni Jr., as it always did when the night grew still and his defenses were at their weakest. He could still hear Nicola’s laughter when they first talked about baby names, the way her hand would rest instinctively on her belly. They were too young, too reckless, but their love had felt indestructible. Until it wasn’t.

Her father had seen to that.

The memory of that confrontation was burned into Giovanni’s mind. The man’s voice had been cold, his threats sharper than any knife. You’ll leave her. Leave this country. Or you’ll regret the consequences.  Giovanni had believed him. He didn’t doubt for a second that the man would follow through, and the thought of anything happening to his unsuspecting parents and siblings had been enough to drive him out of Italy. He hadn’t even been able to say goodbye.

Nicola’s tears haunted him for years. She thought he’d abandoned her. How could she not? He had disappeared without a word, just like her father demanded. He carried the guilt like a second skin, but it was nothing compared to the pain of losing his son.

Now, Giovanni couldn’t shake the questions that had begun to surface — questions he hadn’t allowed himself to consider for years. What if Giovanni Jr. wasn’t gone? It was a dangerous thread to pull on, but the doubt was insidious, spreading through his mind until it was all he could think about.

Giovanni reached for his phone, staring at the contact information for an own private investigator he’d been researching for weeks. He desperately wanted to call but controlled himself for the sake of his wife. She wanted to start with her father, to believe that the man who had wronged them so deeply could somehow help.

But Giovanni didn’t share her faith.

His hands clenched into fists on the table, the weight of it all pressing down on him. He had failed once — failed to protect Nicola, failed to protect their son. How could he take that chance again?

The door creaked open behind him, and he turned to see Nicola standing there, Antonio still nestled in her arms. Her eyes softened as she looked at him, but there was a trace of worry there too.

“You’re still up?” she asked softly, stepping into the parlor.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Giovanni admitted, his voice hoarse.

Nicola sat beside him, the baby stirring faintly before settling again. “You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”

Giovanni nodded, unable to lie to her.

“We’ll find the truth,” Nicola said firmly. “I know it’s not easy, but we’ll figure it out. Together.”

Her words were a balm, but the doubt lingered. Could they really trust the man who had caused them so much pain? Giovanni didn’t know. But as he looked at Nicola and Antonio, he realized he would do whatever it took to bring their family some closure — even if it meant revisiting the darkest parts of his past.

[detentiontrack]

Something about having to go no contact with a parent that people don’t talk about is how with every life achievement, you think about what it would be like to tell them

[raisinushigher]

am i just so far gone with these two that i can barely correctly comprehend anything they do toward eachother as normal casual interaction anymore or was this actually topher being worried about abe

[todayisafridaynight]

I’m fairly new to the fandom, but I do have a question if you can answer it! Why do people ship Daigo with Aoki / Masato? I tried looking to see if they’ve interacted before, but couldn’t find anything! Sorry for asking I’m just </3 dumb AND I LOVE YOUR ART OF THEM!!! Nerd looking ahhhhhh

hi ! welcome to the community i hope you're having a lovely time so far and ty for enjoyin my stuff :) no need for apologies it's a very fair question to have :]

i cant speak for everyone (all. ten people into masadai anyway) but Personally To Me i just think the idea of them together is very funny. thats quite literally it im afraid..

[hauntingblue]

Sabaody time.... I am so fucking scared

FIRST OFF I KNOW THATS NOT WHAT HE SAID!!!!

Another one for the sanji faces hall of fame

Luffy should have stuck with the fritters.... I know the end of this........

More for the hall of faces (? Got confused)

OH FUCK HERE WE GO!!!!!!!!

AJDKAJSK TELL HIM USOPP!!!

AJDHAKSBIASNAOAJ!!!!!! COLD!!!!

Califa wearing jabra's shirt bc nami ripped all her clothes 💀💀 wild

Franky and usopp team up with the sunny

Usopp once again just telling the truth

Look at him... 🧍🏻‍♂️

Conqueror's haki tease..... yeah

This just..... yeah.......

GET A JOB!!! LEAVE THEM ALONE!!!

Is he clocking that sanji had to cross the red line so he sure as hell didn't do it with pirates bc he doesn't know how...... or am I reaching (yeah)

Incredible use of the gag here btw

Shakky.... my queen... why does rayleigh have a former amazon lily empress and kuja pirate hidden away in a nasty bar in sabaody.... how can he do that... girl.... that love sickness really got her bad... and the man is gay for a dead man. Damn. WAIT A FUCKING SECOND

SHAKKY WHAT IS GOING ON!!! WDYM HE HAS A GIRL!!! RAYLEIGH WHAT ARE YOU DOING???? open relationship???? What is their deal. I am so curious now ajdhajnsns

Luffy is looking at the camera (?) Like he is wondering what their deal is too... he gets me

Also am I crazy to think that killer would uave been related to the shandians just by the way he looks.... the pants like wiper wears and the long hair like kalgara... also introduced fighting urouge who is a skypiean.... do you see my vision.... maybe oda went naaah with this and that's why his design changed after the timeskip but here??? Idk

Look at this fucking loser..... AHDJAHSKA

I so want to know what is going to happen to kid because he has been doing terrible things to people but we never get into that... maybe shanks was the consequences.... but anyways he is right here lmao... "aren't we kinda cute killer??"

They want each other so bad.... "and he's got bad manners 😏😈"

AN OLD MAN WHO WHAT also haki introduction hello 👋🏻 so I was right about luffy and the bull ALSO CHAPTER 500!! CRAZY!!! ONLY 630 MORE TO GO

Sanji smoking three cigarettes akdjsisjl he is STRESSED

Nami once again not having enough money to save someone she cares about we should all kill ourselves

Hachi blaming himself for being a pirate when even nami is worried about him right now.... we need to kill the celestial dragons

The fucking cover for this volume..... do they know....

Look at these fucking freaks

Usopp landed butt first into the tenryuubito 💀💀💀 Here we fucking go...