#[ but then those rare vulnerable moments out the corner of your eye reminding them all that their captain's in incredible pain

[pirateborn-a]

     note to self to figure out more details ab roger’s illness,,,

[connorsui]

Right here, Always  

College yuuji x love interest! Reader (20+)

Genre/warnings: Fluff, small Comedy, Hurt/Comfort, small angst, breakups, friends to lovers Synopsis: Yuuji’s lighthearted charm and genuine kindness gradually turn your night of sorrow into something beautiful  note: ur ex decided to leave you ....but thats okay cuz yuuji is here! w.c: 3.087

It was supposed to be a simple night out, a rare evening where you could unwind from the stress of school and life. Instead, it turned into the night you found him—your boyfriend of a year—entangled with another girl, their laughter a cruel melody in the air. The sight of them, so carefree and unconcerned, sent a sharp, icy pain through your chest, as if your heart had been cleaved in two. You stood there, frozen in disbelief, as they exchanged knowing glances, the girl’s smirk widening as she noticed your presence.

The humiliation stung your cheeks as you turned and fled, the sounds of their laughter echoing in your ears, a cruel reminder of your shattered trust. Tears blurred your vision, the world around you fading as you focused only on escaping the pain that clung to you like a shadow. You wanted to disappear, to retreat into a corner of the world where no one could see your heartbreak.

That’s when Yuuji found you.

He saw you before you saw him, his heart aching at the sight of you crumpled on a park bench, your face buried in your hands as you sobbed quietly. Yuuji had always known you as strong, the kind of person who could handle anything life threw at you. But seeing you like this—so broken, so vulnerable—ignited a protectiveness in him that he hadn’t fully realized until now. Without a word, he approached you, his footsteps soft on the pavement as he sat down beside you.

For a moment, he didn’t speak, just allowed the silence to envelop you both. The cool night air brushed against your skin, but Yuuji’s presence was warm, a steady, comforting heat that made you feel less alone. It was only when your sobs began to subside that he reached out, his hand gentle as he wiped away the tears that stained your cheeks.

“He left you… He left you? …You!?” Yuuji’s voice was a mixture of disbelief and anger, his brow furrowing as if the very idea of someone hurting you was incomprehensible. He stared at you, his gaze tracing the curve of your face, the way your lips trembled as you tried to hold back more tears. His heart ached, a deep, resonant pain that mirrored your own. Yuuji felt a surge of emotions—anger at your ex, concern for your well-being, and something more that he was only beginning to understand. He struggled to find the right words, his mind racing to process the scene before him.

Yuuji took a deep breath, trying to steady his thoughts. Memories of the countless times you had confided in him, the late-night conversations, the shared laughter—all of it flashed through his mind. He realized how much you meant to him, how his feelings for you had quietly deepened over time. But seeing you like this, in so much pain, pushed those emotions to the surface.

“Yuuji, are you okay?” you managed to whisper, noticing the turmoil in his eyes.

He forced a small smile, though his own heart was in turmoil. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just... I hate seeing you like this.”

He wanted to say more, to express the depth of his feelings, but the right words eluded him. Instead, he focused on being there for you, offering silent support in your moment of need.

Yuuji's heart twisted as he saw the sadness etched across your face, your once bright eyes now dulled by tears. The weight of your emotions was palpable, and it hurt him to see you this way. He took a tentative step closer, his hand hovering near your cheek as if unsure whether to reach out.

“(Y/N), listen to me…” His voice was soft yet firm, drawing your attention. “I don't want to lay here like this ---"

Gently, he wiped away the tear that had escaped down your cheek, his touch warm and comforting.

“You don't have to waste another minute of your day thinking about somebody that never wanted you to begin with—tainting your beauty for someone like him ain't worth it.” His words were meant to soothe, but there was a fierce protectiveness behind them that made your heart ache in a different way.

“Obviously, he's gotta be blind, right? Dude doesn’t have any taste! I mean, just look at you! Who wouldn't want to bag you?”

His cheeks flushed a bright pink as the words tumbled out faster than he could think. Realizing what he’d just said, Yuuji’s eyes widened in horror. “I mean—wait! I didn't mean it like that! Not like having you as a prize —definitely not! No, wait a second…that’s even worse!”

A small, involuntary laugh escaped your lips, breaking through the sadness that had weighed you down. Yuuji’s flustered panic was almost endearing, and despite yourself, you couldn’t help but smile. He stopped his rambling, looking relieved to see the corners of your mouth twitch upwards.

“Yuuji…” you whispered, his name carrying all the gratitude you felt. His concern, his awkward attempts at making you feel better—it all touched your heart in a way you hadn’t expected.

He exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair in embarrassment. “I'm sorry I just -- you - ” he confessed, his voice sincere. “--You deserve so much better.”

As you looked at him, your heart started to feel lighter. The pain was still there, but with Yuuji by your side, it didn’t seem as unbearable. For the first time since your world had crumbled, you felt like maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

Yuuji noticed the subtle shift in your demeanor, the way your shoulders began to relax and the tension in your body eased slightly. He felt a glimmer of hope, a sign that his words were starting to reach you. The night around you seemed to soften, the harsh edges of your pain blurring as you leaned into his support.

He thought about the countless times you had been there for him, your unwavering friendship, and how naturally his feelings had grown beyond that. Tonight felt different—perhaps it was the culmination of unspoken emotions finally finding their voice.

“You know,” Yuuji began, his voice taking on a lighter tone, “we’ve been friends for so long. I guess I just wanted to make sure you knew how much you mean to me.”

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his with a newfound understanding. It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing the depth of his care and the sincerity behind his actions.

—As the night grew deeper, Yuuji suggested taking a walk around the city to clear your mind. The streets were quieter now, the hustle and bustle of the day fading into the background as the two of you wandered aimlessly. The city lights cast a warm glow, illuminating the path ahead, and for a while, it was just the sound of your footsteps on the pavement and the soft murmur of Yuuji's voice as he tried to lift your spirits.

He kept the conversation light, throwing in jokes and playful comments, hoping to see a smile on your face. The night air was cool, but Yuuji’s presence was like a comforting blanket, wrapping you in warmth and familiarity.

"So," Yuuji began, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "if you had to pick one celebrity crush, who would it be? No second guesses allowed!"

You glanced at him, caught off guard by the sudden question. "I got too many to choose from, and besides you have been hanging out with Todo too much from the looks of that question?"

"C’mon, it’s just a fun one!" Yuuji nudged you lightly with his elbow, a grin spreading across his face. "I'll go first. Jennifer Lawrence! No second guesses there!" He laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked at you expectantly. "Sooooo what's your type? C’mon, I know it’s gotta be good!"

Rolling your eyes, you answer "Henry Cavill"

Yuuji stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening as he processed your answer. "Henry… Cavill?" he repeated, a hint of disbelief in his voice. He paused for a moment, the wheels turning in his head. "I'm not Henry Cavill…" he mumbled under his breath, more to himself than to you.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his reaction, the sound lightening the mood between you. Yuuji’s expression was a mix of mock hurt and amusement, and you could tell he was trying to figure out how to compete with someone like that.

"And, I'm not Jennifer Lawrence!"

As you continued walking, Yuuji noticed you had relaxed a little, the tension in your shoulders easing up as you laughed at his antics. But just as things started to feel lighter, a familiar figure caught your eye in the distance. Your steps faltered, and Yuuji immediately noticed the change in your demeanor.

He followed your gaze and his stomach twisted when he saw him—your ex, walking hand in hand with the girl you had caught him with. They were smiling, their carefree laughter filling the air as they strolled down the street, oblivious to the world around them.

Yuuji’s heart clenched at the sight of your face falling, the pain and humiliation you had been trying so hard to push away resurfacing in an instant. He didn’t think—he just acted.

"(Y/N), I need you to trust me on this," Yuuji said quickly, his voice steady but urgent. He took a step closer to you, wrapping his arm around your waist with a firmness that was both protective and comforting. "Don’t read too much into it, and whatever you do, don’t look at em directly Just let me hold you… and pretend to lean in, okay?"

You looked up at him, confusion and hesitation in your eyes. "Yuuji? What are you doing?"

"Just—" He hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. "I need you to laugh, or giggle, or something! Just play along with me, okay?" His eyes flicked briefly to your ex before returning to you, his expression softening. "Say how much you love me or something…" he added, his voice almost a whisper, as if the words were both a request and a silent hope.

You could see the seriousness in Yuuji's eyes, the determination to protect you from any more hurt, and despite the awkwardness of the situation, you trusted him. Taking a deep breath, you let out a small laugh, leaning into him as if you were sharing a private joke.

"I love you, Yuuji," you said softly, the words surprising even yourself with how easily they came out.

Yuuji’s heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, he forgot about your ex, about the reason he had pulled you close in the first place. All he could focus on was the warmth of your body against his, the way your words made his chest tighten with emotions he hadn’t fully come to terms with until now.

But then he caught sight of your ex glancing in your direction, his smile faltering as he saw you wrapped in Yuuji’s arms, looking happier than he had ever seen you. A smug satisfaction filled Yuuji as he met the guy’s gaze, his grip on you tightening slightly as if to say,

“She’s better off without you.”

Yuuji leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, and whispered so only you could hear, "You’re doing great. Just a little longer."

You nodded, resting your head against his chest, trying to block out the memory of your ex and the girl who had taken your place. With Yuuji holding you so close, it was easier to push those thoughts away, to focus on the moment instead of the past.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, your ex and his girlfriend disappeared down the street, leaving you and Yuuji alone once more. Yuuji let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding, his shoulders relaxing as the tension left his body.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle as he looked down at you.

You nodded, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. "Yeah… I think I am. Thank you, Yuuji."

Yuuji smiled, a soft, almost shy smile that made your heart flutter. "Anytime. I just… I wanted to make sure you didn’t have to go through that alone."

You couldn’t find the words to express what you felt in that moment, so instead, you reached up and placed a hand on his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly against his skin. Yuuji’s eyes softened, his breath hitching at the tender gesture.

"Yuuji…" you began, your voice filled with gratitude and something else, something deeper that you hadn’t fully acknowledged until now.

Before you could say anything more, Yuuji leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both gentle and full of unspoken feelings. It was a kiss that promised safety, affection, and a future where you could both be happy—together.

When you finally pulled away, the world around you felt a little brighter, a little less daunting, and with Yuuji by your side, you knew that you could face whatever came next.

“Honestly, Yuuji, why are you helping me? -- no, wait... thats.. not it.."

Yuuji hesitated, the words caught in his throat as he searched for the right way to express what he felt. He had always been carefree, the type of person who could easily brush things off with a smile and a joke. But when it came to you, things were different. You were different.

“Well—because…” Yuuji’s voice softened, his gaze never leaving yours as he continued, “You’re important to me. I want to treat you right… the way you deserve to be treated. He didn’t… so I want to show you what it feels like to be cared for, to be loved the way you should be.”

The sincerity in his voice, the way he said those words with such conviction, sent a warm flutter through your chest. You’d always known Yuuji was kind—his kindness was what drew you to him in the first place—but hearing him speak with such earnestness, seeing the way he looked at you, made your heart skip a beat. For a moment, you wondered if maybe, just maybe, Yuuji felt something more for you than friendship.

“Yuuji… do you think I’ll ever find somebody who cares about me like you do?” you asked quietly, the vulnerability in your voice catching even you by surprise.

Yuuji’s eyes widened slightly, taken aback by the question. He felt a surge of emotion welling up inside him, a mixture of longing and frustration. How could you not see it? How could you not see that the person who cared about you more than anyone else was right in front of you?

“I care about you!” The words burst out of him, raw and unfiltered. “Fucking hell, I like you! Just seeing how that piece of shit treated you pisses me off to no end! Fuck, I even thought about releasing Sukuna on him! You know how far you gotta push me to make me think like that!?”

His outburst shocked you, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. Yuuji’s chest heaved with emotion, his fists clenched at his sides as he struggled to calm himself down. He had never meant to raise his voice at you, never meant to let his feelings spill out so violently, but he couldn’t help it. The thought of anyone hurting you—of you not realizing how deeply he cared—was too much to bear.

“I’m sorry…” Yuuji’s voice trembled, his anger melting into regret as he took a deep breath. “I didn’t mean to yell like that. I -… I -…”

You placed a hand on his arm, the touch gentle and reassuring, and Yuuji’s breath caught in his throat. He looked at you, really looked at you, and in that moment, he realized that there was no going back. He couldn’t keep these feelings hidden any longer.

“I like you, (Y/N),” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “I want to see you at your happiest, to be the one who takes care of you the way you deserve. That’s all I want. Just… to be with you.”

His words hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning, and for a long moment, you were both silent. Yuuji’s heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing in his ears as he waited for your response. He had bared his soul to you, laid his feelings out in the open, and now all he could do was hope.

You stared at him, your mind racing, trying to process everything he had just said. The way Yuuji looked at you—with such raw, unguarded affection—made your heart ache in the best possible way. How could you have been so blind? How could you not have seen what was right in front of you all along?

Finally, you took a step closer to him, your hand sliding from his arm to his chest, where you could feel the rapid beat of his heart. “Yuuji… I—”

But before you could finish, Yuuji leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was soft and sweet, yet filled with a desperate longing that made your knees weak. The world around you faded away, leaving only the warmth of Yuuji’s embrace, the taste of his lips on yours, and the overwhelming realization that this—he—was what you had been searching for all along.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you took a moment to just be—together.

“Yuuji,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t realize… I didn’t know…”

“I know,” Yuuji murmured, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “But you know now… and that’s all that matters.”

As you stood there in the quiet of the night, wrapped in Yuuji’s arms, you realized that the pain you had felt earlier—the heartbreak, the betrayal—was starting to fade. It wasn’t gone completely, but with Yuuji by your side, it didn’t feel as overwhelming, as insurmountable. Because with Yuuji, you knew you would be okay. You knew that, no matter what, he would always be there to pick you up, to make you laugh, to remind you of just how much you were worth.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

[tinytinyblogs]

🩵💕love love LOVE the 'out? I don't think so' series and was wondering if you would do a yandere ot8 x reader fic or headcannons or something where they have kidnapped reader and reader tries to escape. What will skz do when they catch them in the act? What kinda precautions would they take in the future and would they punish you for escaping? Sorry this sounds like an interview😅

Where do you think you're going, darling?

Running away doesn't seem like a good idea, because in the end, they will always come after you.

⚠️ Yandere theme, unhealthy obsession, Kidnapped and a lot more⚠️

ChanMin, BinHyun, HanLix, SeungIn

💬 Thanks for the request, darling. This is going to be a series that I'll post once a week. I hope it meets your expectations. If there are any shortcomings, I apologize deeply.

Stray Kids Masterlist

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

Chan

Chan rarely rested; his obsession drove him relentlessly. He took his twisted sense of responsibility seriously, especially when he dragged you to the place he believed you belonged—his captive. But that night was different. After countless sleepless nights fueled by madness, he finally crashed into a deep, haunted sleep. That was your moment. Heart pounding, you crept through the suffocating silence, every step a prayer that the floor wouldn't betray you. The door loomed ahead, and with a final, trembling breath, you slipped through. You ran, adrenaline pumping, terror biting at your heels as you hid, desperate and trembling. The next morning, Chan awoke, disoriented from the depths of his deranged dreams. His eyes fell on the ajar door of your room. A chill ran down his spine as he pushed it open, staring at the empty space where you should have been. His eyes widened, then narrowed with a cold, simmering rage. His hand clenched into a fist, knuckles white. And that was the moment he snapped.

From that day forward, he became a relentless hunter, his every waking moment consumed with finding you, dragging you back into his nightmarish grip. You had escaped his grasp, but you had awakened the beast within him. Now, he was coming for you, and nothing would stand in his way. Chan was a smart guy—you knew that well, which was why you were haunted by an uneasy feeling as you sat in the corner of the room where you were hiding. Yet, as if manifesting your worst nightmare, he appeared. He stood there, no smile on his face, observing you with cold, calculating eyes. He closed the door and walked closer, squatting down to your level. "You know, darling, it wasn't very smart of you to run away," he said, his voice more menacing than ever. Those were the last words you remembered before everything went dark. When you finally awoke, you were in a dimly lit room, Chan sitting not far away. The scene felt eerily familiar, like déjà vu—the same sinister feeling you had the first time he kidnapped you.

Even in the darkness, his eyes felt like lasers burning into your soul. "You scare me, you know that?" His voice dripped with a chilling mix of anger and relief. He took a deliberate, menacing step closer, then sat on the bed where you lay, utterly vulnerable. "It's not so nice of you," he hissed. He gripped your hand with brutal force, his fingers digging in painfully, as if trying to meld his fear and fury into your flesh. The intensity of his emotions—terror, rage, relief—poured out, overwhelming you. You couldn't hold back the sobs; crying was the only thing you could do. Through your tears, you noticed the sinister changes in the room. The window was now fortified with thick iron bars, turning it into an impenetrable cage. The door was covered in multiple locks, each one a new barrier to your freedom. The room had become a twisted fortress, a stark testament to his obsession with keeping you captive. For several agonizing days, he kept you tied to the bed, the ropes cutting into your skin, a constant reminder of your captivity. His paranoia and rage transformed your existence into a living hell far worse than before. Every day, he would stand over you, his eyes burning with a mistrust so intense it felt like a physical force.

He made it clear with every look, every word, that he no longer believed a single thing you said. His touch, once merely controlling, now turned brutal. He gripped you with a force that left bruises, his actions driven by a volatile mix of fear and anger. It was as if you had unleashed a monster within him, one that thrived on anxiety and dread. He couldn't stop thinking about what could have happened if he hadn't found you. Every terrible scenario played out in his mind, feeding his obsession and deepening his madness. He stopped sleeping properly, too consumed by the thought of you slipping away again. When he did sleep, it was right beside you, his body a constant, oppressive presence. He kept one arm draped over you, fingers twitching even in sleep, as if he feared you might vanish if he let go. The room became a fortress of his making: the windows barred with thick iron, the door secured with multiple locks, each one a testament to his desperation to keep you contained. You felt his breath on your skin as he slept, each exhale a reminder that you were never alone, never free.

His nightmares became your reality, his fears and anxieties shaping every moment of your existence. He would wake up in a panic, shaking you awake just to make sure you were still there, his eyes wild and frantic. And through it all, you cried. Your tears were the only outlet for the terror and despair that consumed you. But even your cries seemed to fuel his madness, making him grip you tighter, hold you closer, as if your pain validated his twisted need to keep you under his control. His love had turned into a prison, and his obsession, your endless nightmare.

Minho

That day, Minho's arrogance reached new heights as he seemed to believe you had succumbed to his control entirely. He underestimated your resilience, assuming you had resigned yourself to the grim fate he had imposed upon you. But in the moments when he was absent, when the oppressive weight of his presence lifted just slightly, you saw a glimmer of hope—a chance for escape, however slim it might be. Clutching the hairpin you had managed to keep hidden since your last captivity, you meticulously worked at the lock with trembling hands. Each click of the mechanism felt like a victory, a step closer to freedom. Finally, with a soft snick, the door swung open, and a rush of adrenaline surged through your veins. You moved swiftly, silently, every instinct screaming at you to flee, to put as much distance between yourself and Minho as possible. The hallway stretched out before you, a dark labyrinth of uncertainty, but you pushed forward, driven by sheer determination. As you ran, the memories of past escape attempts flooded your mind—the fear, the desperation, the agonizing uncertainty of what lay beyond the confines of your prison. But this time felt different. This time, you refused to let fear paralyze you.

With each step, you felt a surge of defiance, a newfound strength coursing through your veins. You were no longer the helpless victim Minho had made you out to be; you were a survivor, fighting tooth and nail for your freedom. The hairpin remained clutched tightly in your hand, a symbol of your resilience, your refusal to be caged. You used it to overcome every obstacle in your path, picking locks, jimmying windows, anything to put distance between yourself and the suffocating grip of Minho's control. And as you finally broke free from the confines of his lair, you vowed never to look back. When Minho returned home, plastic bags dangling from his hands, he dropped them unceremoniously to the floor the moment his eyes locked onto the front door. With a sense of urgency, he rushed inside, scouring every corner of the house in search of you. But his efforts were in vain; you were nowhere to be found. His frustration boiled over, his hand clenching into a tight fist as he slammed it against the wall with a primal scream. Blood trickled from the wound, but he hardly noticed, consumed by the overwhelming sense of failure.

He became consumed by the hunt, forsaking sleep and sanity alike in his relentless pursuit of you. He tracked you tirelessly, driven by a desperation that bordered on madness. Each passing moment without you felt like an eternity, a torment he couldn't endure. Failure was not an option; he couldn't bear the thought of losing you again. And then, one fateful night, as you lay sleeping, unaware of his presence, you opened your eyes to find him sitting beside you, his gaze fixed on your slumbering form. There were no words exchanged, only the weight of his silent observation hanging heavily in the air. "Do you sleep well?" Minho's voice was as cold as ice as his hand grazed your cheek, leaving a chilling trail in its wake. There was no warmth in his touch, only the stark reminder of his possessiveness. "Are you sleeping well without me?" he asked again, his words laced with a bitter edge. It was almost as if he couldn't fathom the idea of you finding solace in slumber without him by your side. His grip tightened on your chin as he continued, his voice a venomous whisper in the air.

"I can't sleep when you're away. It's time to go home, darling, back to where you belong. And I swear, this time there's no way out." The determination in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, a premonition of the ordeal to come. He dragged you back to the place he called 'home,' though to you, it was nothing more than a prison of your own making. As he threw you into the room with no window, the darkness enveloped you like a suffocating embrace, leaving you gasping for air. With a roar of frustration, Minho unleashed his fury upon the room, his hands becoming weapons of destruction. Objects shattered against the walls, the sound of breaking glass echoing through the empty space. He didn't care if his own hands bled in the process; all that mattered was his need to exert control, to assert his dominance over you. You cowered in the corner, your body trembling with fear as you watched the chaos unfold before you. The air was thick with tension, every breath a struggle against the suffocating atmosphere of fear and despair.

After what felt like an eternity, Minho's rage began to subside, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he surveyed the wreckage he had caused. Slowly, he approached you, his footsteps heavy with the weight of his own anger. With a brutal grip, he seized your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "If you ever run away again," he hissed, his voice dripping with malice, "I swear, I'll break your legs, darling. I hate the thought of hurting you, but if it's necessary, I will." The threat hung in the air like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over any hope of escape.

[hanasnx]

SMUT ALPHABET " A-B " — darth vader, anakin skywalker, leo campo, jacob.

MINORS DNI 18+ NOTES: this was stuck in my drafts and i wanna get it out | source. WARNINGS: f!reader | sexual content | aftercare | body part

A = Aftercare — what they’re like after sex:

DARTH VADER can't help that he's very cold. It stretches past intimacy. During the heat of the moment, at the height of passion, you'll find he's a rare breed. Aftercare would look different on him compared to traditions. There are times where he does not offer aftercare, simply using you as you sought and returning to normalcy. As if he's embarrassed to have shown such weakness. At his best, he'll stroke your hair. Call you sweet, but troublesome. Watch you as you drift to sleep. He's not fond of being touched, or reminded of his vulnerability so aftercare would be an uncomfortable experience if you tried to give him some.

ANAKIN SKYWALKER will clean you up thoroughly with a warm and damp cloth. If he was particularly rough with you, he'll help you bathe and get the cum out of your hair. Water breaks and maybe a snack to "keep up your strength." Talk to you to keep you from falling asleep on him. He needs to be held, he needs to be reassured, so it would bleed into your aftercare as well. You'd receive the treatment he craves, in other words. He'd assume that's what everyone wants. Additionally, he gets very moody if you must leave him to attend to other matters. He much prefers when you set aside time for him, especially if it's to spend the night sleeping in his bed.

LEO CAMPO has a standard routine for it. He'll ask you the same questions. "Can I get you anything?" being his main first. He likes to wind down afterwards with a shower together. Massages are always appreciated, whether he's giving one or receiving one. The two of you worked hard, might as well soothe those sore muscles about it. He'll make you both dinner, pick out a random movie, and sit quietly with you. Your company is valuable, and aftercare comes in many different forms.

JACOB has spent a lot of his time on the run. Whether its from his origins, from his demons, or from the Black Guard, it makes him uncomfortable to stay still. Aftercare might not be his highest priority, and he might— inadvertently, albeit— make you feel like a discarded escort. He rushes through leaving the bed, getting dressed, and moving on to his next task. After he's broken the habit, he'd force himself to remain laying with you. To talk about the encounter, lead himself to be vulnerable.

B = Body part — their favorite, and second favorite body part of their partner’s:

DARTH VADER and ANAKIN SKYWALKER share a common interest in biting your ear to remind you of his existence. With a mask it is delayed until he's able, but it's genuinely his favorite to kiss and to bite. All your other parts deserve recognition, but none of them have him leaning over to latch his teeth onto to slowly drag out. An impulse he cannot shake. Your chest is a close second favorite. He can't think of anything he wouldn't do to your tits. Clamps on your nipples, or biting and sucking on them. Fucking the space between them, or cumming all over them. He doesn't discriminate.

LEO CAMPO wishes he had a more romantic answer. He's almost ashamed to admit it's your ass. Almost. Followed closely by your lips. He finds any excuse to get his hands on your ass. Pinching, swatting, patting, stroking, squeezing. He loves watching it bounce on him when he's fucking you from behind. Your lips are kissed constantly, bitten and tugged on. He also superbly enjoys kissing the corner of them. Not to mention how soft they feel and supple they look wrapped around his cock.

JACOB is very drawn to your eyes. He used to largely avoid eye contact, reminds him of when he was too intense. Additionally, no one's earned the respect of his eye contact. All he wants to do now is gaze into yours. He gets lost in them, and he'll turn you to look at him with his hand on your chin when you're talking to him or vice versa. Your waist is his second favorite. Palms slide up your torso, tracing its outlines, using it as a handle when you're riding him and you need some extra help.

[missy4176]

-A Rare Smile-

Kim dokja x reader

In the vast, unpredictable world of scenarios and uncertainties, there are very few things that can draw out a genuine smile from Kim Dokja. His existence has been one of solitude, marked by a deep understanding of narratives and the bleakness of reality. He knows the weight of every choice, the price of every action, and the transient nature of happiness in a world governed by stories. Yet, amidst all this, there is one exception—you.

Kim Dokja’s smiles are not frequent. They are as elusive as a gentle breeze in the midst of a storm. To most, his face remains a mask of neutrality, his eyes reflecting the depth of his contemplations and the burdens he carries. But for you, his significant other, you’ve come to recognize the subtle changes in his demeanor, the slight upward curve of his lips that speak volumes of the emotions he seldom reveal

Reader Perspective

In the beginning, you weren’t even sure if what you saw was real. Kim Dokja’s expression was often hard to read, and even when he did smile, it was fleeting—like a shadow passing through the light. But over time, as your relationship grew, you started to notice that these rare smiles weren’t so rare when you were around.

Every morning, before the sun fully rises, you wake up to find him already awake, sitting at the edge of the bed, his back turned to you. There’s a calmness in those early hours, a rare moment of peace before the chaos of the day begins. You often find him lost in thought, his eyes distant as if reading through countless scenarios that have yet to unfold. But when you softly call his name and he turns to face you, there’s a softness in his gaze, and for just a second, the corners of his lips lift ever so slightly. It’s a smile meant only for you, a silent greeting that speaks of a love unspoken, yet deeply felt.

Kim Dokja isn’t a man of many words, but you’ve learned to cherish the silences between you. Whether you’re reading side by side, your head resting on his shoulder, or simply walking together without a destination in mind, there’s a quiet comfort in these moments. It’s during these times that you catch him watching you from the corner of his eye. When you turn to meet his gaze, he quickly looks away, but not before you catch that faint smile tugging at his lips, a small, precious token of his affection.

There are times when he surprises you with small, unexpected gestures. Perhaps it’s a cup of tea he makes for you after a long day, or a blanket he drapes over your shoulders when he notices you shivering. These actions are always done quietly, almost as if he doesn’t want to draw attention to them. But you always notice, and when you thank him with a warm smile, he can’t help but return it. It’s in these simple moments that you see the walls around his heart begin to crack, revealing the tenderness he so carefully hides.

In the world of stories, where reality often blurs with fiction, Kim Dokja’s life has been a series of battles, both external and internal. But in the safety of your presence, he allows himself to be vulnerable. After a particularly difficult scenario, when the weight of his choices becomes too much to bear, he seeks solace in your arms. You hold him close, your fingers gently running through his hair, and as you whisper words of comfort, he buries his face in the crook of your neck. And when he finally pulls back, there it is—a smile. It’s faint, weary, but genuine, a silent expression of gratitude and love that only you are privy to.

To the rest of the world, Kim Dokja remains an enigma—a man who navigates through the labyrinth of narratives with an unfathomable understanding and an unwavering resolve. But to you, he is so much more. His smiles, rare and fleeting as they are, are a testament to the depth of his feelings for you. They are a reminder that, despite the countless scenarios and the uncertainty of the future, there is a part of him that is irrevocably yours.

In those precious moments when his smile graces his face, you are reminded that you are not just another character in the story of his life. You are his anchor, his source of light in a world that often seems too dark. And though he may not always say it, each smile tells you that you are the one who has managed to reach the heart of a man who has always kept the world at a distance.

Kim Dokja’s Perspective:

Kim Dokja is fully aware of how rare his smiles are. He’s spent so long surviving, strategizing, and keeping his emotions in check that the very idea of letting himself feel anything beyond necessity is foreign to him. But with you, it’s different. You make him feel things he thought he had buried long ago—things like warmth, safety, and, dare he admit it, happiness.

He knows that his smiles are fleeting, but he also knows that you notice every single one. It’s something that both scares and comforts him. Scares him because it means you see through his defenses, and comforts him because, in a world where everything can be taken away, you’ve become the one thing he can hold on to.

So when he smiles at you, it’s not just a reflex or a reaction. It’s a choice. A conscious decision to let you in, to show you a side of him that he doesn’t show anyone else. And in those moments, Kim Dokja allows himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he deserves this small slice of happiness in a world full of uncertainties.

[eyeless-jeff666]

Good Morning

Jeanist, Endeavor, and Hawks being in love af having a soft morning routine moment :) My contribution to pridemonth lol fluff, minimal angst, but mostly fluff, Wordcount: 1187

Soft rays of sunshine shone through the window, tickling Tsunagu awake. He yawned, tired confusion overcoming him as he wasn’t able to move and stretch; sleep paralysis? No, that wouldn’t feel as warm and safe as this did. It took him a moment to convince himself to open his eyes, only to be reminded that he was merely intertwined in a tight and comfortable embrace with two of his lovers. Elegantly, he fought himself free, pausing as Keigo stirred; he looked too fragile and vulnerable without his wings, and even though the war was over now, Tsnuagu couldn’t help but feel a jab in his heart seeing the young hero like this. He pressed a soft kiss on his temple, whispering:

“Stay asleep, birdie, I’m just going to the bathroom.”

The other seemed to have heard, returning to peaceful snoring, snuggling up tighter to Enji now that his previous source of warmth was missing. Seeing them together was wonderful, calming, and reassuring. Like waking up from the bad nightmare those past months had been all over again. It had been a nice night, one of the nicest Tsunagu had had outside those with his husband. The three of them had been out for dinner, even gotten it for free albeit not without leaving a generous tip still. They’d spent quite some time just enjoying their food and talking about sweet trifles before going to Keigo’s home. For no other reason than it being closest and with the mood they’d all been in, that was all that mattered. And after? Sex so soft it almost seemed impossible. Caring and tender and it was especially surprising how gentle Enji could be if he just wanted to.

He took a shower, careful around some still not fully healed wounds, and traced his scars absentmindedly. They didn’t hurt anymore and didn’t evoke any bad feelings. All his lovers had made sure of that with kisses and praises. It was nice to have one less thing to talk about in therapy, when there was already way too much on his mind to ever work through in a lifetime.

The door opened with a click, a smaller figure walking in to make use of the sink. Tsunagu turned off the waterr and stepped out to reach for a towel:

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Keigo yawned, shaking his head as he reached for his toothbrush:

“You didn’t. Enji almost squished me.”

The two of them laughed for a moment and Tsu leaned against the sink; the younger one looked cute, with his messy hair and sleep still in the corners of his eyes. It was rare that he could appreciate messiness, but knowing it stemmed from a nice night and a peaceful, undisturbed sleep made it quite beautiful somehow. Maybe seeing a young broken soul like him smile genuinely also played a part in it.

“You’re wonderful.”

Keigo stopped at this, spitting out the toothpaste and rinsed his mouth. Something gleamed in his eyes, something Tsu couldn’t quite determine:

“I’m not even a hero anymore without my wings.”

There was more than sadness. Fear. Uncertainty. The emotion of a child who was never taught more than to function. But that was nonsense. Hawks, Keigo Takami, was much more than just a quirk to use. He had feelings. Trauma. Pain. He was a shining example of how heroes and villains were made from the same wood. But there was so much genuine love inside him, so much love he had never been able to share, and so much he had never been able to receive. Tsunagu cupped his cheek, his thumb softly brushing over it in a tender motion:

“You are more than your wings, birdie.  You are genuinely good, and you did all you could. And it’s more than anyone could ever have the right to ask of you. You don’t need wings to be a hero and you don’t need a hero to be worth something.”

The world was terrible for requiring something like this to even be spoken, but it seemed to have the desired effect. Keigo relaxed, melting into the touch, and his smile returned:

“You’re right. It’s just hard to remember.”

“I know. But you will get there, I’m sure.”

The other huffed out a small laugh, looking quite shy as he rubbed his neck:

“Thanks… means a lot.”

Tsunagu nodded, pressing a soft kiss on his lips, just a moment before the door opened once more and Enji walked in; looking tired and speaking with a groggy morning voice:

“Continuing without me? Rude.”

He complained, pressing a kiss to either one’s cheek before grabbing his own toothbrush, his hair styling consisting of briefly ruffling it. The two turned towards him with a small smirk on their faces:

“Good morning to you too, Enji.”

Hawks said, but Tsu just gazed at the man. He was so tall, so broad, so roughed up from everything. He’d done the worst thing imaginable to his family, and that was of course unforgivable. If you didn’t know who he was, you’d easily think he was a gangster just from his facial expression. And yet, barely anyone had ever been as gentle to him as Enji had been last night.

And that’s exactly why he received a proper kiss from the blonde, his scar briefly caressed and the toothpaste still around his lips ignored:

“You better tell your husband good morning properly, mister.”

“Mphf. You haven’t told yours good morning OR good night after leaving him all alone.”

“Wrong I texted him. Plus he invited his teammates over, he sure isn’t alone.”

Keigo choked back a laugh, humming content as Enji nuzzled his nose against his and muttered a pouty yet sweet good morning. It was quite nice to watch two people so in love and treating each other so gently. As they did their little ritual, Tsu grabbed the hairdryer, only minimally disturbing the two as he dried his hair. It didn’t take long to dry, it never did, and he had to admit he looked quite pretty in the mirror as some strands fell into his face.

“Can I use your hairspray?”

The looks that landed on him felt so judging that he couldn’t help but laugh; genuinely like he had rare chances to in the past months. Freezing as he felt a hand in his hair, fingers moving at a slow pace that sent shivers down his spine and made him melt into a puddle on the floor:

“En..”

“Shush. Keigo likes it I thought maybe you might too. Your hair is too pretty to make it untouchable all the time.”

“You’re smiling.”

It was a simple statement, though one that made the Number 1 raise a hand to cover his face; he had been smiling indeed but hated to admit it.

“It’s beautiful don’t hide it.”

Keigo was just silently observing, so many things inside him healing at once. It was strange still to be in such a loving environment, but he was getting used to it.

And he wouldn’t give it up again for anything in the world.

[jonillaa]

AFTER THE STORM ┊ asakura jo

PAIRING ┊ jo x f!reader

GENRE ┊ fluff , angst if you squint

WC ┊ 526

WARNINGS ┊ storms, not proof-read, lowercase intended!!

SYNOPSIS ┊ you’re spending the night at the dorms with your boyfriend, jo. you gets startled by the storm and accidentally wake him up. jo, being an awkward boyfriend, tries his best to comfort you. after some comforting, you falls asleep in his arms.

A/N ┊ hii!! omg this is my first time posting ?! JDJDJNDD i feel like this is so bad to post esp because it’s my first post but oh welllll, lunés need their &team fics to read so here I am ^_^ okay but fr im still learning how to write and stuff so plz bare with me but hopefully this is good enough for all us starving lunés ?!$2)3!;!

the rain pounded against the windows, casting a soothing rhythm in the room. your boyfriend, jo, found himself curled up on the couch in their dorm, his head buried in a book. everyone else was asleep in their shared rooms. it was a rare, quiet evening—a perfect opportunity for relaxation.

the sound of thunder cracked through the night, startling jo. his head snapped up, instantly alert. It was then that he noticed you, the love of his life, beside him on the couch. sleep had claimed you, your face peaceful and blissful.

but the sudden noise had disturbed your slumber. your eyes fluttered open, wide and startled, confusion mixed with fear etching across your features. jo's heart lurched in his chest at the sight. he had never been good at comforting others, his awkward nature sometimes hindering his actions.

"hey... what’s wrong? are you okay?" jo’s voice, laced with concern, barely escaped his lips as he reached out to grasp your hand. his touch was tentative, his fingers gently intertwining with yours.

you turned to him, your gaze searching for reassurance in his eyes. "i-i’m sorry, jo. the thunder scared me," you admitted, your voice quietly trembling.

jo's usual stoic demeanor faltered, a wave of empathy washing over him. he wanted nothing more than to bring you peace, to provide the comfort he knew you deserved. though his voice still held a trace of awkwardness, he spoke softly, hoping his words would alleviate some of your fear. "it’s okay, y/n. storms can be pretty scary sometimes. even i get scared of them sometimes."

a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips, grateful for his presence and understanding. it was often in these vulnerable moments that you appreciated jo even more. with his gentle touch and kind gaze, you felt safe and protected.

guiding you to a more comfortable position on the couch, jo wrapped his arms around you, embracing you with a tenderness that spoke volumes. your body nestled against his, finding solace in his warmth and grounding presence.

his fingers instinctively began to weave through your hair, their touch gentle and soothing. the rhythmic motion created a peaceful aura, reminding you that you were not alone. "you're safe here, y/n. nothing can harm you," jo whispered, his voice a reassuring murmur.

the storm outside raged on, but within the walls of the dorm, you felt a serenity settle over you. listening to the harmony of raindrops against the window and the steady beat of jo's heart, you gradually felt your fears ebb away. as his embrace enveloped you, lulling you into a sense of security, you found your tense muscles relaxing, your racing heartbeat gradually slowing.

in jo's arms, you felt cherished and loved. the awkwardness that often accompanied his actions melted away, leaving behind a deeper, unspoken connection. it was in these moments that you realized the depth of his emotions, the lengths he would go to bring you comfort and peace.

as the storm subsided, a hush settled over the room, and jo continued to hold you, watching over your peaceful slumber. in those quiet moments, he made a silent promise to always be there for you, to weather any storms that may come your way.

for as long as you slept in his arms, jo vowed to offer you solace during the stormy nights, helping you find peace, love, and the comfort that only he could provided.

[kookie-doughs]

Again And Again

Portgas D Ace X Reader

-Amatsuki Y/N decided to stay in the future without her sister upon meeting a friend’s son.

Chapter 10: Invictus

Your return was a dream come true, embraced by the man you love. Ace held you close, swaying gently as memories of the past flooded your mind. This was the moment you left for your mission, and now you were back where you belonged. A smile graced your lips as you nestled your face against Ace's chest, inhaling his familiar scent of cinnamon, amber, and your favorite fruit. The chaotic noises of battle were gone, replaced by the soothing sound of his heartbeat.

Fifty-three attempts had led to failure, but now, on your 54th attempt, you were determined to make it count. You would fight to protect this moment, to cherish the time you had with Ace.

"Y/N, why are you crying? Are you okay?" His voice pulled you from your thoughts, concern etched on his face as he wiped away your tears.

You let out a soft laugh, a mixture of relief and happiness, as you looked up at Ace, your eyes shining with tears of joy. "I'm more than okay, Ace. I'm just so happy to be here with you. I couldn't ask for anything more."

"W-What--" His face flushed, turning red.

Ah. You had forgotten. Your first time admitting your feelings to him was as he was dying.

A gentle smile graced your lips as you lifted your hands, placing them on Ace's shoulders. With a soft, affectionate pull, you drew him closer, your heart racing with anticipation. Your eyes met, and in that moment, everything else faded away. The world around you ceased to exist as your lips finally met, sealing your love and longing in a tender kiss.

Time seemed to slow down as you savored the sweet taste of his lips, cherishing every moment of this intimate connection. It was as if all the pain and trials of the past had melted away, leaving only the two of you in this perfect, blissful moment.

As Ace pulled away from the kiss, a faint blush colored his cheeks, and he looked at you with a mix of surprise and delight. His breath slightly hitched, and a shy smile tugged at the corners of his lips. It was evident that he hadn't expected the kiss, but he certainly didn't seem to mind. It was then when you made a promise to yourself – you would fight for this love, for your future with him.

"Y/N... I-I, Y-You," he stammered, his heart still racing from the sudden display of affection.

You chuckled softly, feeling your own cheeks flush. "I love you," you replied, giving his nose a peck.

He was bewildered, his eyes shining with happiness, but his mind couldn't comprehend.

"I love you, Ace. Always." You smile sweetly bringing his hand to your cheek.

Ace's eyes had so much mixtures of emotions, having heard 53 goodbyes from him, you could tell what those emotions were.

Ace's touch was both gentle, his fingers tracing delicate patterns on your skin, as if trying to etch the memory of this moment into his very being. His heart, overwhelmed with emotions, betrayed his facade of strength, and you could sense the depth of his feelings.

With every heartbeat, you could feel the weight of his love, and you wished you could bear some of his burden. Your arms instinctively wrapped around him, pulling him closer.

As his lips met yours again, it felt like a rush of electricity surging through your veins. Each kiss was a silent promise, a reassurance of the love that bound you together.

As the kiss broke, Ace's forehead rested against yours, his warm breath mingling with yours. You felt a sense of vulnerability in him that he rarely showed to anyone else.

"Y/N," he murmured, his voice filled with affection. "You mean everything to me. I don't know what I would do without you. I love you more than word can express."

The sudden intrusion of Teach shattered the intimate moment between you and Ace. Anger and frustration welled up inside you, but you tried to keep them at bay, not wanting to ruin this precious time with Ace.

"Hey Y/N, pops wanted me to remind you of your mission. He said you had to leave now." his words cut through the air like a knife, reminding you of your purpose, your mission to prevent the tragedy that had befallen Ace in the past.

Teach's presence was a bitter reminder of the sacrifices you had to make for the greater good. You knew that leaving now was the right choice, but it still pained you to tear yourself away from Ace. After all you can't possibly kill Teach in Ace's presence. Reluctantly, you pulled yourself out of his embrace, though your fingers lingered for a moment longer, as if trying to hold onto the memory of his touch.

"I know," you replied softly, trying to sound composed despite the turmoil inside you. "But hey can you call either Marco or pops? I need you and one of them."

Teach grins as he walked away to follow your request.

You and Ace share a look, "Be careful on this mission."

"I'll be back before you know it." You give his cheek a kiss and grabbed you bag and sword.

You spot Marco and Teach talking at the forest entrance. And you walk to them your resolve not faltering.

Marco sensed something was wrong with you the moment you came.

"Pops said you had to do this mission alone. What do you need us for?" Marco asked.

Before either of them could react, your sword had pierced Teach's chest. They both looked at you in horror, Teach looking down at the sword.

"Y/-"

You twist your sword and pull it out to inflict another stab, and another, and another.

You try to remember how many it too to take down Edward in your previous attempt.

"What the hell are you doing?!!" Marco pulls your away from Teach.

He activates his power as he was about to heal Teach but you grab Marco and put seastone cuffs on him.

"I need to kill him. I brought you here so Edward doesn't think I'm just being crazy."

"I think this is crazier!"

"He's going to kill Thatch, Ace and Edward."

Your claim took Marco aback. He looks down on the writhing Teach not even half dead.

"H-He couldn't. Y/N, he's like a brother." Marco looks between you and Teach.

"Marco, look at me in the eyes. I've lived through numerous attempts on trying to save Ace without killing Teach. 53 attempts, I couldn't save Ace. I was only trying to save Ace."

"Why... why did you bring me here to watch..." His voice was shaking.

"I didnt want to go through this alone. And I'd need help explaining to Edward later. I asked him to pick between you or Edward."

Marco looks away not daring to look at Teach who was practically begging him for treatment.

"Don't make him suffer. He maybe a villain in your time... but he's a brother to me right now. Be merciful for old times sake at least." He walked back to the ship.

Just as he requested you kill Teach with a swipe of your sword.

His final words being, "Darkness"

Edward's anger was expected as he confronted you about your actions. "Why did you do it?!" he roared, his eyes blazing with fury. "Why would you just kill him without hesitation!"

You stood there, facing Edward's wrath. "I had to," you replied, your voice firm. "I knew what Teach would become with that cursed fruit, and I couldn't let that future happen. He would have caused so much pain and destruction."

"He was my responsibility!" Edward bellowed, his grief and anger colliding in a storm of emotions. "You had no right to take that away from me!"

"If he was your responsibility," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Then you're the most irresponsible person I've known."

Your captain looked at you in shock. Your nonchalance against his anger spoke volumes.

"You say he's your responsibility, do you have any idea what he's going to do? He killed Thatch because he saw the fruit. He got Ace killed because he wanted to gather criminals. He kills you because he wanted to steal your power. If he's your responsibility why did you let him do all those?" you argue, your voice filled with emotion.

"Y/N, you just took the life of someone the crew considered family," Edward replies, his anger and grief evident in his voice.

"I killed the man who's going to ruin the family,"

"We could've tried to change the future. Was that not your goal?" he ask.

His words echo through your mind, and tears start to well up in your eyes, alarming Edward.

"Y/N-"

"Can you even change the future?" Your voice trembled, "I-I killed him because I couldn't bear to see the same pain and loss happen all over again. I've gone through countless attempts to save Ace, but each time, I failed. I couldn't let it happen again."

Edward's expression softens as he looks at you, concern evident in his eyes. "I understand why you did what you did," he begins, his voice gentle, "but did you stop to think, perhaps there was another way. Maybe if you had tried talking to him, reasoning with him, there could have been a chance to change his path."

"Edward, Teach was the center of everything. I had to make that choice. If he were someone we could talk to over coffee or tea, no one would've had died."

Your voice trembled as you tried to convey the weight of your decision. The pain of losing Ace and the countless attempts to change the future weighed heavily on your heart. You knew that killing Teach was a drastic action, but you couldn't bear to live through the devastation he caused.

"I didn't want to take a life, not when he was family," you continued, tears streaming down your cheeks. "But then, what was I supposed to do to protect our family, to keep everyone safe. I couldn't let him..."

"I understand," he replies, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. "You only did what you thought was right. And I believe in you, Y/N. I just hoped, the way was something that didn't have anyone dying."

As you lay in Ace's arms that night, feeling a sense of relief and contentment, the weight of the world seemed to lift off your shoulders. You believed that Teach's death had changed the course of fate, and you allowed yourself to be consumed by the happiness of the present moment. Thatch didn't die, Edward didn't die, Ace didn't die. No loss shall come to you.

"Pretty, are you okay?" Ace gently brushed aside the strands of hair that had fallen across your face.

A tearful smile graced your lips, elated at the sense of accomplishment you finally felt. "Never better."

With a kiss to your head, you let the night pass.

But fate had other plans, and the future had a way of playing cruel jokes. As the morning sun began to rise, you were awakened by a commotion outside the room. Voices filled with panic and urgency echoed through the ship.

You and Ace quickly got up and rushed outside, only to be met with chaos. The peace you thought you had achieved was shattered in an instant. Your heart sank as you realized that the battle was far from over.

As you and Ace stepped out to see the chaos that ensued on deck, you were shocked to find that the panic was caused by a crewmember who had been sent on a mission. One of the plenty men that was sent to retrieve Yami Yami no Mi, but now, they returned alone and severely injured. The sight filled you with concern and dread, wondering what had happened to them and why Thatch was not with them.

The crewmember's voice trembled as he recounted the tragic events that had unfolded during the ill-fated mission. "I-I'm so sorry... We were ambushed... They came out of nowhere and... We tried to fight back, but they were too strong. Everyone... everyone was killed. H-How can I face pops... I failed him..."

Marco and other ship doctors come to his side, "Hakuro it's fine come on. We need to treat you."

Hakuro took a shaky breath. "I don't know... Who they were... they were skilled fighters, and they seemed to be after the Yami Yami no Mi. I tried my best to protect it, to run back with it. They took the fruit and left me there to die..."

"Hakuro, that's enough. Stop talking, you're losing blood." One of the doctors say.

"I-I needed... to report so I came back. P-Please tell pops we're sorry..." He cried out one final sob before his arms went limp.

The weight of the loss settled heavily on the deck of the ship. The fallen crewmates were not just fellow pirates; they were family. The pain and sorrow were palpable as the crew mourned the loss of their comrades.

Ace's grip on your hand tightened even further, his eyes reflecting a mix of grief and determination. "We'll find them. We'll make them pay for what they've done."

Your heart sank as you realized where this could lead. You knew that a revenge-consumed Ace, was what lead to your past suffering. Tearfully, you looked at him, trying to find the right words to break through his pain.

"Ace, no," you implored, your voice trembling. "N-No. N-No. No. NO. NO!"

Your legs grew weak, the haunting memory of Ace's lifeless form flashed before your eyes. The image of Edward standing tall despite death, and Luffy's gut-wrenching sobs echoed in your mind. You began to shake uncontrollably, inducing worry among the entire crew as you struggled to catch your breath.

"T-This wasn't supposed to happen! I-It was supposed to change!" You cried.

Marco and Ace rushed to your side, concern etched on their faces. You clung to Marco, looking at his eyes hoping some answer would come, just as you had done in the attempts to save Ace.

"Marco, what do I do?" you pleaded, your voice trembling. "I-- Teach, h-he was the one who was going to do this... I-I killed him e-everything was supposed to change!!! Wasn't it enough? Marco please! I-I c-can't go through this again... Help me.... please..."

Marco held you gently, trying to soothe your panic. "Y/N calm down," he said. "We can't lose hope. This isn't over yet, Y/N. We just have to be strong and think rationally, yeah? No one will go off alone. It's going to be fine."

You turned to Ace, seeking reassurance. He held you tightly, his arms providing a sense of comfort and safety. He places a kiss on your head, his heart breaking at the sight of you so lost.

"I promise," Ace said firmly, his voice filled with determination. "We'll face this together, just like we always have. No matter what happens, we'll stand by each other's side. I'm not going to do anything stupid."

~

What did fate have against you? Despite all the promises, the efforts, and the sacrifices, it seemed that nothing was enough to keep Ace safe. You had hoped that your determination and love would be strong enough to protect him, but time and time again, you were proven wrong.

58 attempts. 77 attempts. 93 attempts. 124 attempts. It was unbelievable. The countless ways you had witnessed Ace's life slip away in your attempts to save him weighed heavily on your heart. The pain of losing him over and over again became almost too much to bear.

In each attempt, you had tried to change the course of events, to alter fate's cruel hand, but it seemed like destiny was unyielding. No matter what you did, the outcome remained the same – Ace would die, leaving you shattered and broken.

You had grown weary from the constant struggle, the endless loop of hope and despair. Each time you failed, you had to gather the strength to try again, to face the heartbreak once more. It was a cycle that seemed never-ending, and it left you feeling drained and defeated.

354 attempts. Life seemed to revel in throwing the most absurd and improbable deaths your way, as if taunting you with each failure. It was as if destiny itself had become a sadistic force, determined to keep you from saving Ace.

In one attempt, Ace would slip on something and fall to his demise. In another, a stray seagull would drop a coconut from the sky, hitting him on the head as he ate. There were times when he would simply trip over his own feet and end up impaled on a random object. The scenarios were bizarre, almost comical, if it weren't for the heartbreak and pain they caused.

Yet, amidst the ridiculousness of these deaths, there were also moments of sheer terror and tragedy. You had seen him sacrifice himself to save others, take a fatal blow meant for someone else, and face overwhelming odds with unwavering courage. Each time, you felt your heart shatter into a million pieces, wondering why fate was so cruel.

But with each attempt, you grew stronger and more determined. The love you had for Ace, the memories you shared, and the hope for a future together fueled your resilience. Always coming back to the moment he held you before your mission.

In the face of the 460th attempt, the weight of all those failures hung heavy on you. The journey had been long, arduous, and emotionally draining. Each attempt had taken its toll on your spirit, leaving you feeling like a shattered reflection of your former self.

With each new attempt, the sense of hope you once clung to had waned. The memories of all the previous failures haunted your every move, casting a shadow over any glimmer of optimism. The pain of loss had become a constant companion, and you found yourself questioning the purpose of it all.

Yet, a part of you refused to surrender to despair completely. Buried deep within the depths of your heart was a stubborn flicker of hope, refusing to be extinguished. It was that tiny ember that drove you to continue, to endure the heartache, and to keep fighting for Ace's life.

On the 482nd attempt, as you held Ace close, a heavy silence enveloped the two of you. You couldn't help but contemplate the possibility of drastically altering the past to save him. The weight of the countless failures weighed on your shoulders, and a part of you yearned to take a different path this time.

As you gazed into Ace's eyes, you knew that the fate of countless lives rested on your decision. If you succeeded in changing the past, it could alter the course of history for better or worse. The consequences were unknown, and the thought of tampering with time filled you with both hope and dread.

In your heart, you wanted nothing more than to keep Ace safe, to rewrite the tragic events that had unfolded so many times before. You were willing to risk everything for a chance to see him smile again, to hear his laughter, and to hold him in your arms without the constant fear of losing him.

But deep down, you also knew that changing the past came with its own set of perils. It could create unforeseen ripples in the timeline, affecting not only Ace's life but the lives of countless others. The delicate balance of the world could be disrupted, and you couldn't predict the full extent of the repercussions.

Caught between the desire to save Ace and the fear of the unknown, you found yourself torn. You knew that there was no guarantee of success, and the thought of failure was a daunting prospect. The pain of losing him once more would be unbearable, and you wondered if you could handle yet another heartbreak.

Could you do something so selfish?

Could you make it so Ace never joined the Whitebeard Pirates? Could you throw away the family he found within the crew, the place where he felt accepted and cherished. Get rid of the life he had grown to love, but had also brought him closer to the tragic events that unfolded.

As you held Ace closer, your heart pounding with emotion, you mustered the courage to ask the question that weighed heavily on your mind.

"Ace," you began, your voice trembling with both fear and hope, "how do you think you'd be if you never joined Whitebeard Pirates?"

Ace looked at you, his eyes searching yours for a moment before a small, sad smile tugged at his lips. "Joining the Whitebeard Pirates... it wasn't just about adventure or freedom. It was about finding a family, a place where I belonged. I don't regret my decision, not for a second. I wouldn't know what I'd be without them."

"Ace, if you had to choose," you began, trying to keep your voice steady, "between being with them and being with me, what would you choose? Would you choose to be happy with me?"

Ace's expression softened as he looked at you, understanding the weight of your words. He gently wiped away a stray tear that had escaped your eye.

"You're important to me, more than you can imagine," he said, his voice tender, "and being with you makes me happy. But my crew... they're like family. I can't abandon them, just as I can't bear to lose you."

"I don't know what to do," you said softly, struggling to find the right words.

Ace held you closer, his embrace offering a sense of comfort and warmth. "I don't want to lose either of you," he whispered, "and I don't want to choose between you and my crew."

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Taglist?

@nykie-love-anime @gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @cinnamonrollscafe @sol-d15

[silversiren1101]

WIP Wednesday 6/14/23

More from this "How to Clean Your Ganzi" (clearly working title lol, it'll probably be "Ablution"). Loved reading everyone else's bath prompts and gushing over how cute and fluffy and sweet they were! Screaming at how my internal muse went "nah we're going to turn it into a serious talk on *that* topic instead"

“It is something I choose to do, yes, but it’s not out of indulgence, or even to relax. Not really. It’s…”, she trailed off, trying to think of how to phrase it in a way that wouldn’t make her feel as guilty and self-conscious as doing this at all made her. He continued to hold her gaze, outwardly patient, all the while. 

Then, a sudden flash of teal out of the corner of her eye caught her attention: a rather large feather shed from her writhing tail sent tumbling across the floor. Her breath caught for a split second at the sight, anxiety spiking. She internally chastised herself—It’s just one feather, this is normal, you’re just freaking out because you’re still rattled about what the Abyss did to you but you’re fine now, okay? You look fine. They look fine—and quelled it with a quick call of her still-recovering Hellknight temperance. She’d feel much better once they were properly cared for.

Her focus shifted back up to him just in time to catch that his had dipped to her agitated tail as well. A tightening of his lips and a subtle creasing around his piercing, patient gaze made her stomach drop. He most definitely knew she was anxious as all hell over this now, and it was for something as inane as bathing habits and appearances! He said nothing, but he didn’t need to. She could easily read him even without a lashing, writhing tail with a will of its own betraying every emotion in his chest and thought in his head.

Fine. 

This wasn’t worth the effort of an interrogation on his end. Not with how irrational—and she knew it was, too—the root cause was. She reminded herself that he loved her. He wouldn’t use this against her. Not him. He could be privy to the truth, and, honestly, he should. With how lovingly he’d counted nearly every one of her scales, and with how gently he’d caressed her feathers in just these few weeks of intimacy together, he’d earned the right to know.

It was decided, then.

She swallowed, and, exhaling slowly, admitted something she’d only done so with a handful of people before.

“It’s just really… stressful… being a ganzi, okay?”

His eyes went wide.

Clearly taken aback, his lips parted for a moment, then pressed together once again, bereft of an immediate response of his own. She watched his gaze flit down and away, swamped with thoughts, before it settled back on hers with an… unsureness in them. To her, a confused jumble of restrained questioning, and, most touching, tentative apology for his judgment colored them. 

A soft smile tugged at her lips at his reaction. The amount of times she’d seen Regill at a loss for words she could count on one hand. A vulnerable admittance such as this, when she always seemed so proudly confident over her scales and feathers in spite of all she’d suffered because of them, was apparently enough to add another finger to the count. Questions burgeoned in those yellow eyes as she held them with affection and amusement both, yet only silence stretched between them. She could only imagine his racing thoughts, analyzing each and every one of those questions for any possible insult, unintentional or otherwise, or some other misstep, not quite sure how to approach this conversation tactfully. 

It didn’t surprise her. They didn’t talk about themselves in this way and never had: their challenges as a ganzi and he as a gnome. The Orders as a pure meritocracy didn’t care what you were so long as you were capable and committed, and most individual Hellknights followed suit—save for rare bigots who tended to fall behind in the ranks, anyway. That wasn’t to say they didn’t know. She’d certainly seen him experience adversity due to who he was—physical limitations, prejudice, Hells, the Bleaching itself—just as he had her, but talking about it? Sincerely and vulnerably? No, no, they didn’t do that. Hellknights tackled such things as impassively as any other issue, handling it in whatever way needed without making it someone else’s problem and never letting anyone know how it affected them, if it did. 

It most certainly did her, more than she let on to pretty much anyone; just as she’d caught him staring in silence at his bleached fingers on occasion, never bringing it up on his own and only speaking with cold impartiality when anyone else did.

They were together now, though, so maybe it was time to start talking about these things? He'd more than earned her trust and vulnerability for it.

[labrats-and-clonetroopers]

“Ignorant” Kit Fisto x Reader Drabble, Star Wars: The Clone Wars

Masterlist 

Star Wars Masterlist 

Request Guidelines  

Relationship: Romantic

________________________

The moment you see him you’re reminded of someone else. 

It’s because of the athletic build, you think. After all, you’ve seen many nautolans over the years that never triggered the memory of that particular one. You’re not even sure why the memory is still so strong. Maybe it was because you had been mildly disappointed when he died. So much potential wasted. 

You study the face of the jedi now striding over to the bar. You lean back in the darkened booth at the corner of the establishment, nursing a drink you won’t bring to your lips. You think it’s possible he could be related to that barbaric creature; force sensitivity tends to cling to bloodlines. 

Yes, the physical resemblance is strong, but the similarities end there. The nautolan speaking smoothly to the bartender is a jedi of calm, disciplined bearing. Nothing like the feral being that was carved to pieces by jedi blades. 

You focus, filtering through the buzz of the nightclub, listen to the jedi’s carefully worded questions. They’re exactly what you expect them to be, given the rather interesting events of last night. 

The jedi’s conversation is fruitless. He’s disappointed, you can sense that, but an air of optimism still hangs over him. His eyes sweep over the room, over the customers painted in the neon of the pulsating lights, most half drunk or high, sly hands passing credits under tables.  

His gaze settles on your partially shadowed form. It lingers for a moment, before he makes up his mind and walks in your direction. 

You sigh. You know he didn’t sense anything; you’re far too careful, but your species tends to catch the curious eye wherever you go. People aren’t used to seeing Pau’ans on Coruscant, especially lurking around in the lower levels. 

Technically, you’re a hybrid, but your heritage is too clearly evident. Too much associated with those features, as though simply because a species can live so many centuries means that every member is a wise advisor. 

“Is this seat taken?” the jedi inquires brightly. 

You tilt your head. Hearing it up close, you think you rather like his voice. It’s pleasing, though it’s hardly the only thing about him that you find appealing…but that’s irrelevant. Talking to a jedi would be irresponsible. If you sulk, and act irritated and drunk enough, you know he’ll end up just passing on by. 

You shake your head and make a loose, welcoming gesture. “No, feel free.” 

He obliges, sliding across from you. “Kit Fisto,” he introduces himself, “And you?”

You smile. “I don’t make a habit of handing out my name so easily, even to a noble jedi.” 

He’s amused. “You don’t find value in exchanging pleasantries?” 

“I still haven’t yet decided if it would worth the effort.”

He laughs. “I’m wounded.”

You shrug. “I’m just being pragmatic. A jedi rarely introduces themselves to strangers without an ulterior motive.” 

There’s a glimmer in his eye as he responds, “Well, unless you happen to know who attacked the Chancellor last night, I think we can put aside any ulterior motives.” 

You raise an eyebrow and smirk slightly. “So this is about pleasure when you’re supposed to be working.” You cross your arms. “I’m afraid you’ve found the wrong girl for that.” 

“I think you misunderstand my intentions,” Kit quickly corrects, “I don’t prefer to rush into things.” 

This surprises you. You frown, noticing the slight somber cast over his aura. “Now this is curious,” you muse, “A jedi who’s a romantic. Seems rather like a sin.” 

“Just need to breathe once in a while,” is his reply, his voice quieter than before. 

It disturbs you that you can’t tell if he’s lying, if maybe he had sensed something and is constructing a ruse to further investigate. Or if he is simply a weary jedi whose code just isn’t quite sustaining him. You’re in the dark, and after so many years it feels so foreign. Vulnerable, ignorant of the truth. 

You lean forward, your face not far from his handsome features, close enough that he can clearly see the perilous sharpness of your fangs. 

“Maybe we can see where tonight leads.” 

[leviathanswingman]

cavity and sweet tooth; DiaLuci oneshot

“Lucifer, can you come here for a moment?”

Lucifer, sitting by the fireside with his head bowed ever so slightly, bangs softly brushing against his cheeks, lifted his head from the paperwork he had been working on for hours and hours with no end in sight.

He turned his head towards the source of commotion, barely able to suppress a sigh as he took note of Diavolo sitting on the ground of the house of lamentation’s music room, cross legged and soft-spined, evidently lost in conversation with none other than Lucifer’s antisocial little brother Leviathan.

Seeing them chatting as if they were life-long friends, Lucifer couldn’t help but suppress a sigh he could feel rising from the depths of his soul. With Diavolo’s devil-may-care personality, fraternizations of this sort rarely ever worked out in his favor.

After all, the demon prince had originally paid the house of lamentation a surprise visit to discuss several work-related issues that had come up on short notice . To no-one’s surprise however, that had quickly turned into Lucifer doing the actual work while Diavolo was fooling around, attempting to lure Levi into another semi-deep conversation.

“Yes?” Lucifer asked, admittedly curious to find out what exactly those two had been going on about. Leviathan was extremely reclusive by nature, so for someone to catch his attention, the topic of conversation must have been quite captivating.  

He pushed up the glasses that had been sliding down his nose inch by inch, readjusting them appropriately.

Diavolo mustered him and let out a sigh. “Come here, just for a second!” When there was barely any reaction coming, he shook his head impatiently and beckoned Lucifer over. “Do I have to implore you? I promise it won't take long. I want to try something out Leviathan here mentioned-”

“Right, right.” Through years and years spent as Diavolo’s friend and right hand man, Lucifer had learned that when confronted with another one of Diavolo’s outlandish requests, indulging him before inevitably shutting him down was the easiest way to go.

He sighed once, but put aside his paperwork regardless and got up from his chair. Of course he knew this foretold nothing good. Still, it was Diavolo who was asking. And although the man often failed to remain professional, determined to break down all of Lucifer’s carefully built up walls, Lucifer knew he could trust him. Even in moments like these when Diavolo was really hellbent on testing his patience.

He walked over to Diavolo and Leviathan, stopping inches away from them and crossed his arms. “So, what's all of this about?”

Diavolo looked up to him and threw him a displeased look. “Lucifer,” he started and before Lucifer could so much as answer, Diavolo had already closed his fingers around Lucifer's wrist, giving it one big tug.

Taken off guard by Diavolo's sudden boldness, Lucifer let himself be pulled down to the ground with nothing but a badly hidden stumble.

Levi, who had been lounging on a couch behind Diavolo let out a stifled laugh before Lucifer caught his eye and gave him a proper glare, shutting him up for good.

“Diavolo!”

The demon prince let out a low chuckle as he watched Lucifer readjust his position. As soon as he was sitting semi-comfortably in front of him, Diavolo grabbed Lucifer’s forearms and lifted them

 “I hope I didn't startle you now, did I?” he said with a low rumble to his voice, his eyes focusing in on Lucifer's hands which were hidden by his lavish black gloves. “Would you take these off for a second?”

Lucifer's eyebrows knit together in confusion. He lifted his eyes to look at Diavolo, whose attention seemed to be strictly focused on Lucifer's hands.

“I suppose,” he answered, yet before he could do as much as lift a finger, Diavolo was already busying himself pushing up Lucifer’s sleeve, hooking his index finger in-between smooth fabric and even smoother skin, successfully freeing Lucifer's left hand.

“There we go!”

“Remind me as to why we're doing this again?”

Diavolo scooted a little bit closer, now facing Lucifer as he took hold of his right gloved hand. “No need to look that grim. As I said, I was just wondering about something Leviathan has brought up ever so passionately. You'll be free to finish your work in no time.”

A small scowl crept up on Lucifer's face as he turned his head towards his little brother. “Levi, if this is anything but appropriate I will make sure to turn you into-”

Before he could finish his sentence Leviathan had already taken hold of his belongings and bolted out of the room. To be quite honest, Lucifer couldn't remember the last time he had seen him run quite as fast.

Lucifer decided to put his focus back on Diavolo just as he felt one of his fingers glide along his skin before disappearing in the gap between glove and hand, successfully pulling off the second glove as well.

For a moment Diavolo ogled Lucifer’s hands, hands that were seen covered way more often than bare, before raising his hands as if to give a high five.

“Mirror my movements,” he said with a smile on his lips and a twinkle in his admittedly pretty eyes.

Lucifer stared at his raised palms for a moment or two until Diavolo started to get tired of waiting and motioned towards Lucifer with a quick circular motion of hand.

“Hold them up like this,” he said, putting both his hands back up at chest height.

“Diavolo, I really don't see the point in any of this,” Lucifer protested, but followed suit anyway. He mirrored Diavolo's motions, throwing him a quizzical look from behind their hands while doing so.

Diavolo threw him a blinding smile as he connected their hands palm to palm, gently but confidently, making sure that they were lined up perfectly at the bottom.

The tips of Lucifer's fingers, softly pressed against Diavolo's digits, were tingling curiously under the gentle feeling of skin against skin.

It wasn't that Lucifer was touch-starved, no, he was simply not used to these slow, soft, almost tentative touches; especially coming from Diavolo.

“Well, won't you look at that!”

“What specifically am I supposed to look at now? This is ridiculous. I still have work to do so-” he started, but before he could stand up again and return to his stack of papers Diavolo pushed his hands against Lucifer's perceptibly harder.

“Don't be like that, just look!!”

Lucifer pushed back out of reflex.

His eyes dropped down to their hands and, surprised by the unexpected sight, Lucifer felt something click in the back of his brain.

 Graceful, slender hands stood in contrast to slightly bigger, stronger looking ones. For once, he did not push back in retaliation, but mustered their joined hands instead.

The sight made him feel almost nostalgic. Hands, once curled to uncertain fists, were now joined in mutual obedience and respect. It was a strange and perhaps vulnerable thing to take note of. He shook his head, face to face with his own mushy thoughts.

Still, instead of pulling away as his instincts were telling him to, Lucifer pushed back as Diavolo also considered their hands for a moment, letting out a rumbling laugh before dropping his fingers a bit to fully slide them between Lucifer’s.

“Even your hands are positively stunning, Lucifer. Pray tell, how do you manage any of it? Stunning from head to toe,” he practically mumbled, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, revealing the slightest hint of dimples on his cheeks.

Lucifer, unsure of what to do with his hands as he pretended to not have heard any of Diavolo’s flattering mumblings, furrowed his brows as he quickly blew a stray strand of hair out of his eyes.

“There you go buttering me up again like that. What even is the use of all of this?” Experimentally, he spread his fingers a little bit further apart and threw Diavolo a quick glance from under his lashes. Finally, he grew tired of keeping his fingers upright and dropped them unceremoniously, decidedly ignoring the fact that theoretically, if you were being really strict, he was holding hands with Diavolo right now. He forced himself not to think about it beyond measure.

“Permission to compliment?” Diavolo asked belatedly, a mixture of joy and mischief painting his features delightfully carefree.

“Absolutely not.”

They were adults, and additionally to that, two of the most respected demons all across the devildom. Them holding hands like frivolous adolescents would be ridiculous, preposterous even. If any of his brothers were to see him like this, they’d certainly laugh like the hyenas they were.

Certainly, Lucifer wasn't about to get embarrassed by him and Diavolo holding hands. Except for the fact that without any doubt, he was indeed feeling undeniably embarrassed.

He cleared his throat. “So, has inspiration finally struck hard enough for you to tell me what this is all about? If I recall correctly you mentioned this having been caused by another one of Levi's nonsensical ramblings?”

Diavolo’s eyes were still trained on their joined hands. He ran his thumb across the back of Lucifer’s hand and let his middle finger rub along Lucifer’s protruding knuckles. For a moment, he seemed lost in thought, unaware of the redness that was unmistakably dusting his friend’s neck and ears. 

Lucifer, ever so aware of his body’s own reactions, suppressed them with sheer dedication and efficiency before his tired mind could come up with any more funny ideas.

He cleared his throat and forced his attention back to their previous topic of conversation, away from Diavolo’s beautiful -of course solely objectively speaking- fingers rubbing soothing circles into the back of his hands.

“So what sort of nonsense was Levi trying to convince you of?” he tried again. And in spite of himself, Lucifer caught himself suppressing a sigh accompanied by a shudder as Diavolo ran his thumb over smooth skin, turning it into a huff before the traitorous sound had even so much as a sliver of a chance of slipping past closed lips

 Although he was known all across the lands for his professionalism, that didn’t mean he was unresponsive to outward stimuli. And no matter how easily exasperated he was by Diavolo’s lack of work morale, Lucifer had grown somewhat fond of the future demon king. Not that he would ever be caught dead admitting to such a foolish thing out loud.

“Oh, nothing much. He just mentioned it being a ‘sacred trope’, i think that’s how he put it, therefore I couldn’t help but feel tempted to try it out myself! So what do you think, Lucifer?”

Lucifer averted his eyes and successfully crushed the overwhelming feeling of sheer mortification daring to overtake his body.

Of course, Diavolo had been swayed by Leviathan’s absurd ramblings, overtaken by a morbid sort of curiosity he often liked to display as a born-to-be isolated from most of society. There was nothing more to it than that.

Lucifer untangled his fingers from Diavolo’s, standing up abruptly.

“This is not only a waste of my time, but also yours. We should get back to work now. There’s no reason to bother with this any longer.” Without any hesitation, he turned back around to the abandoned stack of paperwork sitting lonely by the fireside. He took a third of the work off the pile, placed a pen on top of it and pushed it into Diavolo’s lap, who blinked at him sheepishly for a moment. Diavolo then threw him one last look, which was glaringly obvious a pout, and let out one big, dramatic sigh. “You are incorrigible Lucifer, has anyone ever told you that?”

Lucifer allowed himself one last look at Diavolo’s almost cartoonish sulking expression before he averted his gaze from the playful twinkle in Diavolo’s eyes down to the way the fabric of his pants was stretching under the promise of girthy thighs and delicate skin, willing himself to come back to his senses before it was too late and he had officially lost all common sense. “Get back to work, Diavolo. You know I’m a busy man and neither of us have all day.” 

He threw the demon prince one last stimulated look, calmed his heart, picked up his pen and started writing.

[voidcat]

– rushed whispers

wc: 1.3k + 0.4k ; warnings: (implied) smut, so,, suggestive at best ig

a/n: ik thats not what the anon wanted w I Bet On Losing Dogs but it was nice to put it on repeat while writing this.

It begins like a faint melody, soft and gentle.

A tone of sadness always lingers, a possibility of what could’ve been and the ‘what-if’s; though it never leaves a bad taste, just… distinct.

Like swaying to an old tune, his breath dances on your skin, your hands fumbling with his vest.

Little words spoken, sounds filling the air, the specifics always blur by the time you cut to the chase. The locations do not matter, neither is picky. It’s spontaneous, exciting, the risks keep it going and making your chest race with the possibilities.

So little spoken out loud when there is much to be said and discussed.

In its entirety, it’s just the noises that fill the air, fingers working ever so quickly; skins touching, tracing, nails sinking and marking. It’s just his breath fawning over your ear and your lips on his neck, words have long lost their meanings, as always.

A wordless agreement of sorts. It’s never discussed, nor planned. One seeks out the other and you begin tiptoeing around each other again. Almost like a dance in the dark, that’s how it feels, with your eyes barely open but never off each other, relishing in the pleasure, it ends as it begins.

And Dazai, he never takes his eyes off you. Yet there’s so little light, so little spark in them. Hints and traces of various degrees of emotions flow endlessly but they look exactly as you feel in such escapes, like a veil pulled over, no room for a source of light. Sometimes you wonder if he even possesses a heart.

It’s silly, how on one hand your minds hazy and on the other you think such things. He might think of the same things for you, for all you know.

But you never will, and that’s exactly the point.

Dazai is good at many things and keeping this strictly as intended is one of these.

Grab the bolo tie and pull him in, he’ll be latching on to you instantly. Teeth and skin, he is everywhere. It’s rushed, it’s deep, there’ll be marks in the evening and neither ever really cares.

Isn’t this the point? To not care, to not be attached. Simply a business affair on pleasure. What better way to ensure your colleague will be on his top performance than to make sure of it yourself?

No feelings or strings, they say, but none of it was ever discussed since the beginning. How could any of it work if feelings weren’t a part of it? Every time a new surprise, be it rough, gentle, attentive or selfish. You suppose it’d never be what they call “love making” but then again, that’s not what either of you are craving.

Love isn’t needed when you get to feel every other emotion to feel there is.

“Hey, would you come out for a sec?” It’s as easy like this to get you outside. And next your back will be pressed against the cold surface. He’s onto you in an instant, his warmth making up for the cold that’s growing. While he is busy with your neck, your hands start with the practiced routine.

By the time the buttons come undone, he moves on from your neck, impatient as ever. Still, he often holds the back of your neck during these, and he is careful with the pressure he is applying, making sure your head never hits against the wall, tilting your head while considering the angles to your comfort.

Your mind grows foggy, such is the effect of Dazai, and despite it, you cannot stop thinking. Of all the small details, gestures, what goes on and doesn’t, focusing on the pleasure is one but this? It’s another.

And he knows, that your mind is elsewhere – you know it too. Again, shouldn’t that be a part of it? To take each other’s minds off of things?

Even when your attention is rarely on him, he doesn’t say much of it, doesn’t demand your attention or care, biting on your neck and sucking on it afterwards, he moves up again.

It’s a way to escape for him too, doesn’t care how much of yourself you’ll give to him. Though this doesn’t change the fact that he likes it when your focus is solely on him.

So you do, one hand to stroke his neck and soon moving to the nape of it, up and grabbing his hair, pulling at the moments you know he’ll like, deepening his biting, the movement of his body, pressed against yours until the both oh you are molded in the shape of one another.

There is roughness and gentleness when it calls for it, but all in all, there is passion in his actions. Knowing your body and his, watching every move and reaction, drinking in the sounds the two of you make, as nothing else matters in that moment.

Until it shatters and the unspoken agreement is back in action. It’s never spoken of until it happens again. The again always comes sooner than expected. He is impatient as he is passionate.

Playing each other like instruments, you like to hear him moan the most. Pulling his hair to make room for yourself and leaving marks on him. Dazai claims he hates pain but loves to chase after it like hungry.

It is a good agreement, though nonexistent.

All the marks remain to remind of the pleasures of the previous encounters. It comes as a bonus, to wake up in the morning and look in the mirror, seeing marks of red and purple bloom everywhere, every square of your bodies. Satisfactory, although a little scary, showing how much you the other has seen.

No rules to abide, no strings to get caught in, and another thing you realize is that you never kiss.

Lips have touched everywhere but the faces, those remain clean, undisturbed. Maybe neither of you got a taste for masks, maybe you fear the implications of kissing one’s face.

But as clear as the sky and bright as the sun, this is one of the things that always remain unchanged.

Then Dazai kisses you. His teeth tugs at your bottom lip, pulling it down, he must be aiming to make it bleed there, you surmise.

He has kissed every corner of your body but your face and now here he stands, body against yours again, one hand to hold your neck, other to pull you by the waist, tugging on your lip as if he always does this.

No word was ever spoken yet it was always in the open. It should be your earlobe he’s tugging right now, what is he doing?,you think and ask yourself, until you find yourself kissing him back.

As always, it’s these moments of indulgence and pleasure where your mind is running fast. His skin looks barer than ever, he seems vulnerable. With how his bandages have come undone, how he lets you every time, never once hands holding yours in an attempt to stop. Layer upon layer, tightened straps of gauze and fabric to hide away everything underneath, every piece of him; and they come undone like nothing.

It becomes too loud in an instant.

Then again, hasn’t this always been the case? Weren’t all the choices and gestures you made, all the touches and caressing louder than words could ever be? Doing what words could never achieve, setting rules in untouchable air, to surround and entail you, claim your spirit and mind.

Perhaps he just knew you’d never ask the questions he won’t answer, or he simply trusts you, to an extent, as you do him.

It’s loud, with all the mixed noises, actions and hushed whispers – his eyes on yours as always, you give in and let the moment take in, your focus only on Dazai in this corner of time, as no one else exists.

Eyes like a hawk’s, it’s the moments when he gets to see you without nothing but bliss in mind that he cherishes the most. This time, it’s different and he is aware the reason behind is his actions. Unlike any other time, it’s not mere minutes where he gets to have you completely, a shift of something in you and until the high of it rises and dies down, you’re his, and all of him is yours.

For now, Dazai ignores the consequences of his actions and lives through what little you get to share until it ends.

‘La petite mort’, what a fitting name, he thinks, and how expected of him to enjoy it.

The clock starts ticking again, your pupils are narrowing.

“We’re down for this time, for sure.” You speak out as your breathing returns to normal, voice a still raspy.

“How so?” Dazai asks in return, his usual smile appearing back on his face, his composure looks far better than yours, in which you poke him for.

“Kunikida was right besides us!” you keep whispering the words, trying not to raise your voice. To anyone else, you’d come off agitated however Dazai knows you by now, just a tad worried, that’s all it is. “Even if he didn’t have suspicions before, he does now. We practically handed him over the proof.”

With a sigh, you lean back and run your hands to check your clothes for any fix-ups.

In return, Dazai leans over and rests his forehead by your face. Nobody pays much attention to the tidiness of his bandages so he leaves them be.

Turning his face to yours, the smile you’ve grown to hate never falters. It’s easier to relax somehow, and if he concentrates he can smell the scent of his skin on you. “Well, it’s not like Kunikida gets a say in who we get to see off the clock,” letting out a breath, his smile softens, “does he now?”

Fumbling with your bracelet as you listen, you perk up at his words. “Dazai, these are the work hours, we are on the job right now.” He can hear the confusion in your voice, he can’t blame you for that.

You never talk about any of these, let alone further implications of whatever this is.

You just assumed it’d end as always, going back to your divided lives, pretending nothing happened.

Up until now, nothing ever happened.

For the moment, he lets you ignore his implications.

There’ll be time to talk about these later.

[boytouya]

Can I request a todoroki x male! reader, and reader has a lot of fangirls and todoroki decides to kiss them on live television? Thanks! I love your writing! 💖💖💖

Thank you

thank you angel!! this is my third attempt writing it because tumblr has decided to delete everything i wrote !!twice!! but it’s done now, and much better than the first two times!

Work days were long and dragging you by the collar. It was hard to keep up with talk shows, obsessive fans, and promotions. You barely even had days off. But on the rare occasion that you did, you and your boyfriend, Shouto, would spend the day hidden from paparazzi and under blanket forts. He preferred staying at home with you, and maybe it was selfish of him, but he couldn’t stand the thought of other people having your attention when you were finally alone. Unfortunately, the twenty four hour hourglass always seemed to run out too fast.

Clearly, that seemed to have an effect on Shouto. There were always dark circles weighing down his eyes (that his agent told him conceal), and you were the only one who knew. He only seemed vulnerable with you and only you, as you were with him too. So when you fix his tie and give him a smile, his tired eyes lighten up and he smiles back. It’s small and reserved, your favorite kind. Usually, Todoroki’s lips are pressed in a tight line and he stays polite. He only ever speaks when spoken to (unless you’re the one he’s talking to), sometimes making a witty remark in a monotone voice that throws off an interviewer. Shouto knows it makes you laugh though, so he continues to do it whenever he can. Some say he speaks “a perfect amount” and you couldn’t agree more. Then again, you think everything about him is perfect.

The two of you were fortunate enough to get casted in a new project together, and it’s success was skyrocketing after your name appeared next to Shouto’s in headlines. The two of you had a large following, and although Shouto was the model, you were very popular among women. The collection of supporters led to the project being nominated for two awards, one of which you later win.

Walking into the extravagant building had been a hassle, there were no security guards helping the two of you pass through fans, and the only thing separating you from them was a gold railing. They took advantage of that gateway, swarming around you and Shouto to make contact with you in any way possible. On top of the uncomfortable grabbing and squeezing, photographers flashed photos straight into your eyes. Nevertheless, Shouto stays pressed against you, his lips folded down into a small frown. He knows better, to keep his composure and never crack, to hold his emotions in like a dam, but it’s uncomfortable for the both of you. He pulls you into his side and continues walking, even as broadcasters shove microphones into your face. A woman, wearing a dress that looks like it costs more than both of your networths combined presses the mic straight to your face.

“Oh, Mr. Todoroki! You and your friend, you’re here because you’ve been nominated for multiple awards. I notice you’ve become very popular to the ladies, and I’ll admit, you are much more handsome in person. I’m sure everyone is dying to know, any girlfriends, gentlemen?” She asks, although she’s staring into your eyes like the question was meant just for you, despite addressing Todoroki.

Shouto hates the question. He hates the way you squeeze his arm, whether it’s to remind him to stay calm or to tell him that you’re uncomfortable. He knows he can’t grab the mic and proclaim his love for you, that you’re very much in a relationship with him and in love, but he seethes anyway. It’s bad for ratings, if all the people who crush on you see that you’re taken they’ll move onto the next cute boy, but it’s taken so much away from you. You cant go out on actual dates, you cant kiss or hold hands in public. Any form of PDA was a no. He hates it.

When he lets that sink in, the dam breaks.

Ignoring the question, Shouto picks up his pace and walks into the seated room, finding your reserved seats. He doesn’t speak much for the rest of the night, but he does give you a small smile, which you can tell is genuine. To be honest, watching people accept awards and say the same thank you speech was tedious, but when you’re the one doing it it’s much more exciting.

When you register hearing your name after the winner of the category was called, Shouto is looking down at you with his hand out. Even in moments of high tensity he remains passive. You’d envy his ability if you didn’t know it was a trained response. There’s clapping and cheers, muffled by the sound of your heart against your chest as Shouto leads you to the podium on stage.

You’re first to give thanks and credits. It’s much harder to say than it looks, and although everyone says the same thing, it still feels exhilarating. Maybe because you’re the one saying it, but it feels unique. You move to give Shouto a turn, when you realize he never let go of your hand. At first, his speech mimics yours, but he adds:

“The last person I’d like to thank is very important to me... He’s always been with me. Some people say I don’t laugh but he makes me laugh. He’s much more than a pretty face and... He deserves more than what he gets,” He turns to face you, and there are hushed whispers coming from the audience. His tongue swipes his bottom lip. You catch yourself staring. “There’s only one way I can show my gratitude correctly, because I find showing is much easier than speaking.” He adds simply, but his thin eyebrows raise upwards, as if he surprised himself upon saying that. In the corner of your eye you catch the two of you being displayed for those watching the ceremony on live TV, and the room feels larger than it already is.

His hands, once on the podium, move to hold the base of your neck, and he presses his forehead against yours. Without a second thought, his lips connect with yours. It throws you off for a split second but his warm hands ground you and keep you steady. His thumb caresses the space above your jawline, and he pulls away, before whispering:

“Thank you.”

[persephone-plasmids]

The Third Rail

Deacon X Sole fanfic

[AO3]

(Part 1 can be found here)

Deacon was sitting on a padded bar stool in The Third Rail, his fingers gingerly wrapped around a cold drink. He’d never really been a fan of tuxedos. He normally called them penguin suits, but he had to admit, he looked good in his current disguise.

His dark hair was slicked back and his trademark sunglasses protected him from any intimate interaction with the other bar patrons.

Even though Deacon kept his eyes trained on his drink, his ears were working overtime. Dez seemed positive that information about a kidnapped Synth would be discussed at the bar that night and she’d sent Deacon undercover to get as much intel as possible.

The tux had been his idea. He told Dez that his character was a wealthy trader who came to the Third Rail to unwind after a long day trading in chems and fancy hats. When Dez had pointed out that she just needed him to sit at a bar and listen for a few hours, he’d shushed her, insisting that his character was a vital part of the mission.

Sole had been sitting nearby in the Railroad HQ, her legs draped over the arms of a chair as she read an old tattered copy of Time Regained that Deacon had loaned her. She’d laughed at his insistence and when Dez had rolled her eyes and stomped away, Sole winked at Deacon.

The memory of this short interaction was enough to make his heart rate pick up a few paces. Not because it had been particularly special, but because it only reminded him that he and Sole shared something now. A special closeness. She’d kissed him, however briefly, one night after she single handedly killed a Deathclaw. Of course they hadn’t acknowledged it since then, which was just fine with Deacon. His feelings for Sole were already complicated enough. His best course of action would be to bury those feelings deep down and never examine them again.

He could do that… right?

Deacon tapped his thumb lightly against his glass, sighing deeply.

He didn’t want to bury the feelings down. He wanted to crush his lips against Sole’s and tell her how much he loved the way she laughed at his dumb jokes. He wanted her to know how much he loved the little dimples she got in her cheeks when she smiled. And he wanted her to know that he loved the way she believed almost any lie he told her and then got mad when she found out the truth.

He loved all of it.

But he couldn’t say that. So he took another drink and continued to bury those feelings deep down.

When Deacon felt two hands rest on his shoulders before sliding down the front of his chest, he jumped.

It wasn’t until a pair of lips brushed his ear lobe and a familiar voice said, “Fancy meeting you here,” that an involuntary smile broke across his face.

“What are you doing here, Charmer?” Deacon asked, tilting his head to face Sole with the ridiculous smile still in place.

He couldn’t help it. This was just the way his face looked around her.

“I’ve been looking for you all night, Darlin,” Sole said loudly with an exaggerated fake southern accent. “I trust your long hard day of selling chems and fancy hats hasn’t made you too tired for our date?”

Deacon couldn’t stop the smile from spreading even further across his cheeks. “I’m never too tired for you… Peaches.” Deacon had tried to think of the most ridiculous pet name he could think of. The fact that Sole almost broke character when she heard the name he’d come up with, told him he’d done a good job.

Swivelling around in his bar stool, Deacon finally got a proper look at Sole and had to work hard to keep his jaw from dropping. She wore a form-fitting red sequin dress that seemed to hug every curve of her body in a way that made his mouth go dry. She also wore a pair of sunglasses identical to Deacon’s, her crimson lips quirked up into a smile.

The last thing Deacon wanted to do was let Sole know just how incredible he thought she looked. He needed to maintain some semblance of dignity. Instead, he patted the bar stool beside him, and when Sole sat down, leaned over and said in an exaggerated whisper, “You’re wearing the same dress as Magnolia. That’s just embarrassing. One of you will have to change.”

“It’ll have to be her, Sugar. I’m having a drink with my man.” Sole kept the awful southern accent going and Deacon broke down in a fit of laughter that he stifled with his hand.

Sole was notoriously bad at accents. When she’d tried to do the Silver Shroud voice for him a few weeks back, he’d almost passed out from laughing so hard. She knew her bad accents were his weakness. She was doing this on purpose.

Another thing for him to add to the checklist of things he loved about her.

The checklist was quickly becoming its own novel.

“And remind me where you’ve been all day?” Deacon asked. He wanted to see just how much thought Sole had really put into this little ruse of hers.

“Why I’ve been off at the old Cabot place, basking in the refinement, of course,” Sole said.

Deacon shook his head before lowering his voice so that the other bar patrons wouldn’t over hear him. “Seriously though, what are you doing here?”

Sole leaned in conspiratorially, her grin full of mischief. “Dez didn’t trust that you were taking the job seriously after you came up with your whole… character.”

“So she sent you to babysit?” Deacon guessed. It wouldn’t be the first time.

At his question Sole looked down at Deacon’s drink and blushed. “I volunteered. Told her you might need some looking after.”

Sole had asked to come keep Deacon company? They hadn’t really been alone since she’d kissed him and he liked it that way. He didn’t need any more reasons to be head-over-heels for this girl. He was supposed to be past those kinds of attachments.

“And Dez didn’t think your character idea was childish?”

At this, Sole’s grin returned. “She didn’t know I was coming in costume.”

Deacon let a sly smile that matched Sole’s cross his lips. “So that’s the trick, is it? Be childish, but only when Dez isn’t looking?”

“It’s been working pretty well for me so far.”

“You just out-Deaconed me,” Deacon said. “I’m impressed, Charmer. You’ve even got the shades.”

At his words, Sole removed the sunglasses and sat them down on the bar in front of her. She rubbed the bridge of her nose gingerly.

“I know you swear by those things, but I just can’t get the hang of them. I don’t like that they add a barrier between me and the person I’m talking to,” Sole said. “It’s weird.”

“That’s exactly why I like them,” Deacon admitted, his sideways smile back.

Sole watched him with her lips pressed together in a hard line. Her eyes roamed across his face in a way that made him feel oddly vulnerable; even with the sunglasses on.

“You trying to use your x-ray vision over there?” Deacon joked. It was his default and the only way he knew to deal with an uncomfortable situation.

“Just trying to remember if I’ve ever actually seen you without the sunglasses on.”

“That’s a privilege you have to earn,” Deacon said.

At this, Sole perked up, her eyes alight with the challenge. “And how do I go about doing that?”

Deacon thought about this for a moment. What could ever make him feel comfortable taking his sunglasses off in front of Sole? Nothing came to mind. Because if she did see him, really see him, she might not like what she saw. That thought alone nearly killed Deacon. He wasn’t even sure he liked what he saw on the rare moments he allowed himself some brief introspection. But he was stuck with himself. Sole wasn’t. She could leave. And that was something he didn’t think he could bear.

It seemed better to keep her at arms length so he could continue to enjoy her company. He didn’t want to risk disappointing her. He didn’t think he could live with that.

“Don’t blow this mission for me and I’ll start to consider possibly thinking about maybe letting you see what’s behind the sunglasses,” Deacon said with a vague wave of his hand.

“Oh my! You’ll actually start to consider possibly maybe hypothetically letting me see you?” Sole repeated in an exaggerated tone. “How could I ever turn down a rock solid offer like that?”

“I don’t make the rules, sister. I just enforce them,” Deacon laughed, taking a long drink. “But if you could help me get some intel on this possible Synth kidnapping, Dez might actually respect me.”

“She respects you as an agent already. You know that,” Sole said, before grinning. “She just thinks you’re a hopeless man-child.”

“That’s Professor Hopeless Man-Child, thank you very much. I didn’t go to years of Peter Pan school to not be addressed by my full title.”

“Noted,” Sole said with a little salute in Deacon’s direction. “So, do we know who might have this possible intel?”

Deacon turned slightly in his chair and let his eyes roam over the patrons of The Third Rail. There were the regulars on the couch, holding their drinks while listening to Magnolia’s sultry voice with rapt attention. He gave a sidelong glance to the VIP room where he knew MacCready would be making deals with shady characters for caps. And then there were a few strangers he didn’t recognize sitting at the bar a few stools away from him and Sole. Those were the most likely sources of intel.

“I’d say we keep an eye on old no-nose and Danse over there,” Deacon said, nodding subtly in the direction of a ghoul and an uptight looking perfectly-groomed man.

Sole let a little giggle escape her lips as she turned away from the pair. “He totally does look like Danse,” she said, her eyes crinkling in the corners as she laughed.

Deacon tried not to notice.

He failed.

“Ad Victorium,” Sole mocked in her best Paladin Danse impression. It was just as awful as her southern accent.

“That old tin can is such a boy scout,” Deacon said, wanting nothing more than to make Sole laugh again. The sound made him happy. “But he’s good in a fire fight.”

“He’s actually really sweet,” Sole said. “And super helpful out in the field.”

Hearing Sole say nice things about Danse should have warmed Deacon’s heart. But instead he felt something ugly and unfamiliar spring up inside of him. Was it jealousy?

“Yeah, he’s great. If you get over the fact that he’s a raging bigot who hates synths,” Deacon said. His words sounded harsher than he’d meant for them to. He actually liked Danse a lot. But for some reason, he didn’t want Sole liking him too much.

“Hey, he’s still coming to terms with a lot right now,” Sole said. “Give him time. He’s a good person.”

Deacon nodded but didn’t answer. He didn’t like how much this conversation was bugging him. He wanted to pretend it was because of Danse’s less-than-stellar opinion of synths. But he knew the truth. Bigotry aside, Danse was a good guy. A wholesome guy. The kind of guy that probably reminded Sole of her late husband.

What was Deacon?

A liar. A man-child. Someone who couldn’t get close to people without devolving into a stand-up comedian for fear he might expose too much of himself.

Why would Sole want that when she could have the muscled boy scout with the badass scar over his eyebrow?

“Hey, are you okay?” Sole asked, placing her hand on Deacon’s arm and looking at him with a furrowed brow. “You kind of disappeared for a second.”

Deacon cleared his throat and adopted the fake smile that served as his everyday mask. “I’m good, boss. I was just listening for any intel we might hear.”

It wasn’t a great lie, but he hoped it was good enough to get Sole’s hand off of his arm. He couldn’t handle it when she touched him. Even like this. It gave him hope. And hope was dangerous.

The two sat in silence for a long time and when Sole did eventually move her hand away from Deacon’s arm, he hated its absence.

They watched the ghoul and the pretty boy drink their drinks in silence and Deacon began to wonder if they weren’t actually the people they’d been looking for. But when Deacon saw MacCready leave the red VIP room and walk up their stairs towards Goodneighbor, the ghoul and the pretty boy instantly stood up in unison and headed over to the now empty room.

“Bingo,” Deacon whispered. “They were waiting for somewhere more private.”

“This is so exciting,” Sole said, bouncing in her seat a little.

It was quite possibly the most adorable thing Deacon had ever seen in his entire life.

And that was including the time he’d seen a mutated bunny with four soft fuzzy ears hopping around the Wasteland.

“We need to get in that room,” Deacon whispered, standing from the bar stool and heading over to the VIP room.

He and Sole entered, but made sure to stand around the corner where the two conspirators wouldn’t be able to see them.

The ghoul and the pretty boy spoke in hushed tones, but Deacon was still able to make out the key points.

“Nuka World,” Sole whispered, looking up at Deacon who nodded.

That was it. That was where the Synth was being held. Dez would be over-the-moon with this intel.

Deacon only had a moment to revel in their victory, because without warning, he could hear the footsteps of the ghoul and the pretty boy heading towards them. They would have maybe two seconds before they saw Deacon and Sole standing there. And then what? They’d probably try to kill them without a second thought.

Deacon opened his mouth to try to tell Sole to run, but before he could, she pushed him up against the wall and crushed her lips against his.

The forcefulness of the kiss caught Deacon off guard, but it only took him a moment to understand her strategy. Just be a couple of Third Rail occupants looking for some privacy for a good time and no one would suspect they’d been spying on the conspirators.

Sole pressed her body against Deacon’s, her hands sliding inside of his tux jacket and around to his back. Her lips were soft, even as they moved forcefully against his. And even though he was tempted to close his eyes and give into the kiss, he kept one eye open to make sure they hadn’t drawn any suspicion from the pair they’d just been spying on.

Deacon watched as the two men eyeballed them for a moment before shaking their heads and leaving the VIP room without another thought.

They’d done it. They’d fooled them. And now they could stop kissing. But Sole didn’t seem keen on slowing down. That meant it would be Deacon’s responsibility to stop the kiss.

But did he really want to? Now that he had a good reason to kiss Sole that wouldn’t make him have an existential crisis?

Instead, Deacon placed his hands on Sole’s waist, squeezing her sides and pulling her against him. He could feel her smile under his lips and the expression only encouraged him. He ran one hand up her back, keeping the other low on her waist as he kissed her back passionately.

He never wanted this to stop.

The heat from Sole’s body mixed deliciously with his own and with every kiss, he felt himself fall for her even more.

After a moment, Sole finally slowed down their moment of passion and broke the kiss. Her lips were swollen and her cheeks were flushed, but her eyes were bright and full of life.

“Our targets left,” Deacon finally said after a moment, because he wasn’t sure what else to say. “I don’t think they suspected us… good thinking, boss.”

He knew he sounded breathless and frazzled and he hated himself for it.

Sole didn’t step back away from him. Instead she stayed leaned up against him with her hands resting on his back.

“Mission accomplished,” she whispered. He could feel her breath against his lips and it made him shiver. Being this close to Sole was like drinking clean cold water after wandering the Wasteland for days with no rest.

Deacon and Sole stared at each other for another moment, neither one willing to break contact. Deacon still had his hand low on Sole’s waist, and he moved his thumb over the bumpy sequins there.

“We should probably report back to Dez,” Deacon said after a minute. Something that looked like disappointment passed behind Sole’s eyes and he wondered briefly if she had wanted him to say something else. Something unrelated to the mission.

Had he wanted to say something else too?

“Good teamwork,” Sole said, standing up on her tiptoes and placing one last long, slow, soft kiss against Deacon’s lips.

The motion gave Deacon chills all over his body.

When she pulled away, she gave him a meaningful look. “I guess we should be getting back.”

Deacon nodded dumbly, unable to speak for a moment.

When Sole pulled away from Deacon, he felt her absence like a punch to the gut.

“Right behind you, boss,” Deacon said, watching as Sole headed towards the stairs that would lead to Goodneighbor.

He let her climb a few before he started to follow her. The truth was, he wasn’t sure he trusted himself to be too close to her right now. Not after the kiss they’d just shared. Because he knew he wanted more. And he knew he’d always want more.

But the worst part of it was, he almost thought that maybe Sole wanted more too. The look she’d given him had held some kind of meaning. But there was no way he was going to pursue that. If he was wrong, and Sole wasn’t sending him signals, he’d be devastated.

No. It was better to live a life wondering, than to throw away a good thing on a small possibility that his feelings were reciprocated. Sole was too good for him and he knew it. She probably knew it too.

But maybe she didn’t care. And maybe he shouldn’t either.

[Part 3]

-------------------------------------------------------

Based on this pic of my OC and Deacon being dorks together.

[laurore-stormwitch]

So this was supposed to be a birthday gift for my friend @not-just-human, but of course I am a day late (ily). This is to remember the major week-long breakdown we had when we first read about this. I am so so happy that I met you. Enjoy this endless yearning and pining about Nikolai giving Zoya the dragon timepiece

I’d give us time if I could - ao3

word count: 2282

“Do you intend to keep prying into my work from the corner or are you planning to make yourself useful at some point?”

Zoya kept her eyes trained on the document she was scanning as she talked, having finally had enough of the intent gaze that had been studying her. Behind her back, she heard Nikolai chuckle lightly, the sound echoing in her veins.

“I’ve been here a while. I am surprised you haven’t heard me.” Of course he had, and she had let him. His silent presence was far from unpleasant, though; it brought a sense of security to the room that she had wanted to enjoy for a while. Maybe it was the silent part that was shocking enough to not startle him from his rare lack of talking. “Are you perhaps losing the usual sharpness of your senses, General?”

It was not a matter of hearing; Zoya felt him, always, everywhere. She just knew, in some deep buried part of her, when he was there; he awoke something in her, quickened her pulse, muffled her thoughts. It could have been a consequence of her newly acquired powers, or that unbreakable connection that had seemed to have been forged between them. Either way, she had deliberately chosen not to dwell on the answer. Zoya discarded her pen and shuffled the papers away, turning on her seat to face him.

“What do you need?”

Nikolai was leaning on the doorframe of her bedchamber, his figure stark against the flickering of the fire. He folded his arms, cocking his head and producing his signature mischievous grin in her direction. She really wished he would lose the habit of appearing in her room late at night; even more, she wished he could avoid doing so with his hair ruffled and the top buttons of his shirt undone.

Or maybe you just wish he would stay and let you fix those buttons, her traitorous brain provided. If only to oppose those thoughts, she scowled at him, shooting an annoyed glare at his lack of response that only made him grin wider. He pushed back from the frame, walking towards her and coming to lean on her desk beside her instead, peering at her from the upside down. Zoya tensed up, unnerved by his excessive proximity and the salty scent of his skin invading her nose. His gaze wandered around the room, lingering on the two-stars flagged ship on the wall before coming to lock with her eyes.

“I’ve come to check on my General”, he mused. “Can a king not oversee his most trusted ally’s work?”

His voice had a strained edge and he kept fidgeting with the cuffs of his jacket. He looked almost nervous. Which was not preamble to anything positive. Zoya suppressed a groan, going for another baleful glare. “Cut to the chase, Nikolai”, she clipped out.

He just looked at her, seemingly at a loss for words, which was even more worrying. His eyes darkened, the shadow of something passing over them, something treacherous, the promise of an undoing. It had peered in vulnerable flutters in these weeks, carrying sparkles of electricity between them.

They had not talked much about what had happened in the Fold, aside from the detail of their worst enemy coming back to life; Zoya carefully avoided the subject of whatever it was that they had shared, whatever it was that made her heart ache whenever he entered a room. It drove him to search for her, to ask for her company, for her presence. It lingered in the swift gazes they exchanged or the casual brush of his hands on her. Either way, it had to remain shrouded in darkness; these moments he seemed to look for made the task to toss the desire away tiresome, if not at peril to be forsaken. She heard him discreetly take in a long breath before talking, the forced cheerful tone masking a tension she could sense enveloping the room.

“I have something for you”, he finally said. “Then I’ll leave you be.”

The force of his feelings was a tidal wave of confusion that threatened to drown her; Zoya used all of her might when he was near to put a blockade against them. It was one thing to be forced to experience other people's troubled sentiments, but with Nikolai, she did not want to know. She did not want to bask in whatever inner battle was waging inside him; it would not help either of them to hold the knowledge that their hearts were being tortured by the same hopeless war.

Zoya struggled to keep her focus and control over her power; her perfectly still posture unveiled nothing of the turmoil in her chest. She arched a brow at him; losing no more time in chatters - another clear enough indicator of his nervousness - Nikolai reached inside his jacket and delicately handed her a fine case with his royal seal branded on top. Zoya turned it over, resting her folded hands with it on her lap and coming back to fix her eyes on Nikolai’s ones with a silent question.

“It’s a - “, he started, straightening himself and wrapping his hands on the edge of the desk. He cleared his throat and shuffled on his feet, his restlessness betraying more than he let on. “It’s a gift, sort of. I thought you deserved a reward. A token of appreciation.”

“For what?”, Zoya inquired, half suspicious and half startled by his gesture. Again, those shadows swept through his features and his fingers twitched.

“For fighting beside me, I guess”, he said easily, shrugging his shoulders. “And saving our pitiful lives.”

“I do it on a daily basis”, Zoya diminished, tossing her hair. “You constantly put yourself in life-threatening situations. It hardly shocks me anymore, and I certainly don’t consider it a cause for celebration.”

Nikolai smiled at that, his genuine smirk recalling the familiar ease between them and clearing the strain from the air. Of course I saved you, you idiot , Zoya thought, and she knew her blue eyes had softened at the sight of him. I could not bear to lose you. “Undoubtedly”, he conceded, humming in agreement. “Think of it as a reminder of our heroic gestures and epic adventures. I spared you the torture of hearing me proclaim a poem to our valor and chose a symbolic practical gift instead.”

Zoya rolled her eyes, blowing a disgruntled scoff. “I would have not let you come as far as a sentence. Do not ever try to pull that poetry nonsense on me.”

A laugh burst from him, and the sound made her feel so light she thought she could float.  “Just - “, he paused again, the words faltering on his tongue. Saints, what had gotten into him? He looked more like an excited schoolboy than a king. “Open it later. If it’s awful, at least I can be spared your disgusted face at my ghastly taste.”

“Your taste does lack finesse.”

“I like to pride myself with having gotten to know a fraction of your likings in these years. So perhaps I did not go completely off track with that”, he said, gesturing to the case still resting in her hands. He pushed himself up, running a hand through his hair. The king looked at her again, and she could see the words forming in his throat and dying on his lips, all the things he wished he could tell her. But that was not their truth to live. That was not their chance to gain. And whatever he would say, it had to not be what he desired. “Besides, it’s a useful gift. You always grumble about how late I am, now you could actually prove it.”

Zoya pursed her lips at the wink he gave her. “I do not grumble.”

"Occasionally. You’re extremely graceful in that too, don’t worry.”

With that, he turned to leave, as nonsensical and abrupt as he always needed to be. And Saints, she wanted to grab his arm and tell him to stay. She wanted so many futures she could not have, so many endings to this night that were forbidden.

“Nikolai”, she heard herself call to him, not sure where her own voice was coming from. Nikolai stopped dead in his tracks, his gaze darting back to Zoya still seated unmoving on her desk. His fingers were already curled around the handle; there they stood, facing each other at the brink of a duel or a surrender, at the crossroad where they kept finding and losing themselves. It would take a step, a touch, a slide of a tongue on lips. A syllable, a breath. Instead, there was silence, one that asked to be filled with mendacity, for it would be softer to tolerate than the blazing truth of an ember of hope that had already gotten extinguished. Zoya swallowed the bitter taste of pretense; she wondered how long it would keep scraping, if older pain got sweeter like a priced bourbon or turned rancid if left there to rot.

Thank you , she wished to tell him at least. A small thing it would be, yet one that would risk freeing a flood. “Close the door on your way out”, she said instead, her voice cold but lacking spite. “It’s late.”

Nikolai stood; she had chosen the path, and he knew he had to give in. It was not like they had another choice. And so he just nodded, the ghost of a smile grazing his lips because whether she spoke it aloud or not, he would always know. “Goodnight, General”, he murmured, taking his leave.

It would take her some time to get up from her seat and will herself to rest. Zoya remembered when they had found themselves in a similar position; it was three years ago, and in the box he had given her had rested the medal that had made her his General. He had been as jittery as tonight, with that grin that had never changed. Back then, the dance between them had been different, though the exchange of playful banters and silent truths had been the same.

It would then take her some other time to bring herself to open the case, and when she did, a part of her died while another came roaring to life. She could have wondered and wondered forever what it meant; if it was a promise, a farewell or a desperate plead to wait, to cling to his endless bright capability of finding a way when a way was not possible. Zoya would not try to sort out its meaning. She laid on her covers with the watch beside her, turning it in her hands as it caught the moonlight shining through the windows. When sleep came to claim her, she left it on her nightstand, focusing on its mellow ticking, a sliver of order to the chaos.

Coward , growled the beast inside her, trashing to be set free. Would you let him leave every time, until he comes back no more?

She thought back on the way she almost pleaded his name, on those seconds that stood suspended in time, when none of them had moved. She could have let go of her defenses; but then what? Why had she not said whatever was pressing in her lungs? Zoya had almost grown accustomed to those troubling doubts; she had every answer to them.

Why? Because they could not afford the tears that burned like daggers in her throat. Because they could not afford the longing that flared up the golden freckles of his irises. What would have happened if she had asked? She would have shut her lashes, and he would have reached for her, and the things that could not be would have weighed impossibly on them. The things that could not happen, in any of the lives they might be free to live.

The watch kept ticking. The dragon kept roaring, and the thorn wood kept strangling her heart, puncturing her skin.

They would keep marching. And the things that could not be would stay hidden in the silence and the rhythmic beat of a pointer slashing whatever time they had left. If she was someone else, Zoya might have hoped they could have it, not just symbolically, the gift of time. That those seconds that dripped away were not passing, that it was time they were earning. Wishful thinking and broken ideals lead nowhere, as a general knew. And she was not someone else, if not a soldier.

Nevertheless, when morning came, the timepiece rested on her nightstand, still ticking away. Zoya glanced at it as she got dressed; she brushed her hair, buttoned her kefta and put her boots on. And it kept ticking away, mercilessly calling to her.

And so she huffed in irritated surrender, and snatched it up and clasped it on the insides of her uniform. An instant relief flooded her; it matched her pulse, soothing her thoughts. She gave a tug to the kefta , smoothing its ruffled folds. She knew Nikolai would notice she was wearing it, at some point; for once, she could not bring herself to care that he was going to have this victory. Let him have it; and let her have something of him to hold.

That boy is going to be the death of me , she thought sourly, peering at herself in the mirror. A whisper arose from within, the careening thrum of her heart suggesting a different story, flashing the blank page of another chapter she could start writing, if she would only be brave enough.

What if he will be life?

[flowerwrites06]

coin flip I — jhs

Plot: A trained spy and assassin has to choose between his power-hungry brother and the benevolent Queen he’s falling in love with. 

Pairing(s): Butler/Spy!Hoseok x Queen!OC (Name: Rosyne) 

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 10k

Genre: Royal | Angst | Smut 

Tags & Warnings: angst, nudity, explicit smut, pregnancy, hidden pregnancy, violence, minor character death 

Authors Note: fiNALLy managed to get some time to repost fics again. I know a few people really wanted this back so I hope you like it! 

The scene in between these ‘ ***** ’ are flashbacks. 

Kingdom of Wisteria took down their bright lavenders and hydrangeas, replacing them with wilted flowers to mourn the death of King Eirin. Instead of the vast streets of purples onlookers now welcomed browns and ash from the scared fires to send the royal spirit off to his rightful place in the afterlife. Though even with all these ceremonies, one question always swirled in the peoples’ minds whenever a leader died. When will the heir take her throne?

Rosyne has her legs hidden under her long, black dress as she sits on the cold wooden floors of the throne room. The black veil still over her head creating a safety blanket from the world. White handkerchief crumpled in her hand had light stains of pink from her makeup while the empty deep purple velvet throne towers over her even though it was a few feet away. “He left me too quickly.” She sniffles. “I don’t even know what happens in a coronation.”

Behind her stood the crown princess’ trusted butler and close advisor, Hoseok, hands clasps together as he watches her break down in front of him. “It’s just formalizing what you’ve already been doing.”

She scoffs lightly. “And what’s that?”

“Being a leader. You were a kind and just princess. All that’s changed is the title.” Hoseok raises his shoulders.

Puffy, teared out eyes stare up at the throne again feeling her head ache just by looking at all the history. All the responsibility riddled in that piece of jewellery. “A Queen has to be more than kind and just. She has to be—brutal but passive. Fearful but loved.” Rosyne couldn’t help but wince at the confusion of it all, eyes closing to calm herself down.

Letting out a defeated sigh, Hoseok takes a few steps forward and sits down on the floor right next to her until their shoulders press against each other. “That’s why Royals have councils. To ensure you’re making the right decision.” He lowers his voice to a soft tone, leaning in, a light scent of rose lingering from her clothing. “Right now, the kingdom is vulnerable and it needs a leader more than any time ever.”

“That’s not making me feel better.”

“Well…I’ll be there by your side if that helps.” Hoseok presses his palm on the floor just behind her so he could close more distance between them. “Does that feel better?”

Rosyne turns her head causing their noses to brush despite the veil between them. “A little.” She smiles albeit with a tad bit of exhaustion.

Expression softening, Hoseok gently tugs at the veil to push it over her head so he could see her face properly. The corners of his lips stretches into a grin. It was strange to be this close to one another in the throne room of all places when their usual locations were her bedroom or her private quarters deep in the garden. A sense of adrenaline and freedom rushes through him. He leans in and presses a gentle kiss on her lips, brief but it still warmed his entire body being able to touch her so freely.

Whatever nerves twisted under Rosynes’ skin quickly melted as their lips touched. “I need to find new allies.” She mutters almost in a whisper due to their close proximity. “Wisteria might not be in trouble right now but news would have spread that a new inexperienced royal is on the throne.” Her gaze moves to face the throne again but Hoseok keeps his on the crown princess.

“Where are you thinking?”

Rosyne shakes her head slowly, taking a deep breath. “It’s hard to tell. No one’s reached or contacted the kingdom yet.”

Hoseok brushes away the loose strands from her face, tracing the back of his fingers down her temple. “We’ll figure it out as we go.” Fingers sneaks behind her neck as he took advantage of their lonesome and pulled her in for another kiss.

Unfortunately he spoke far too soon when the double doors of the throne room thud open. The pair immediately detach prematurely and shift away from one another so they sat at a decent distance.

“Your Majesty…”

Rosyne looks over her shoulder and sees Kiku who had her hair in a neat bun, black gloves and physicians robe. “What is it?”

“Are you ready to give a private farewell?”

It didn’t dawn on her that she had to face him again and say goodbye. Finally coming to terms that it was her turn to take over the kingdom. Whether that was an exciting moment or a terrifying moment was still up for debate.

-

Moonlight peeks through the trees, light mist forming from the cold as Hoseok tightens his grip on the thick cloak adorning his body. Curling his palms he blew hot air onto the skin trying to keep himself from freezing to death. If he could just go back and sleep again, feeling Rosynes’ warmth against him while her breathing soothed him back to relaxation.

Can’t think about that. Not here.

Padding deeper into the forest, the trees starts to thin out and he catches the grey stone hugged by green vines and moss. The ground beneath looked like it used to be a gorgeous floor but now the soil consumed back to its original state. Or least a broken type of it. Once in a time, this used to be a majestic palace. But nature takes everything that dies and renews with its own beauty.

Rosyne would love a place like this. She would want to plant flowers in the soil and turn into a garden for people to admire. She was good at it. Bringing more light into something that was broken.

Much to his discontent, Hoseok had to push down those warm thoughts when he saw the three cloaked figures standing in the middle of the former hall. As soon as they heard the twigs crunch, their bodies turn to face him.

“What’s the news?” Namjoon, standing in the middle speaks.

“I’m fine, thanks.” Hoseok retorts.

Namjoon didn’t look all too happy about the response so all the male could do was sigh and dive back into professionalism.

“The King is officially dead. Rosyne will be taking the throne soon.” He doesn’t keep any emotion in his voice. Almost like a tranquil creature unable to feel but only take orders and provide information.

“But?”

“But she will be looking for allies.”

“Not a bad decision.” Namjoon nods to himself. “Not a good one either.”

“The kingdom is always the most vulnerable when royals are moving from one to another.” Hoseok wanted to leave. He wished he could run away right now and warn Rosyne but he felt a heaviness on his shoulders keeping him grounded.

“Especially with a soft Queen like Rosyne.”

Hoseoks’ expression hardened. “We shouldn’t mistake kindness for softness. It can be powerful tool.”

“That’s why your influence on her is so important.” He walks forward and holds onto his shoulders, squeezes it gently. “The way she dotes on you and your opinion will come in very handy, Hoseok. Bonus now that you’ve bedded her already.”

“I didn’t bed her for that purpose.” His gaze burned into the male.

“Of course you didn’t.” Namjoon chuckles. “But it still happened and now she has a connection to you.”

“Perhaps we should not speak of the Queen in this manner.” Seokjin speaks up from the right, looking a little concerned at how loosely Rosyne is being spoken of. Something Hoseok always admired about their oldest brother.

Namjoon only grins in response clearly not taking the warning seriously by any means. “Alright, I’ll stop.” He speaks as he glances over his shoulder before facing Hoseok again. “You’ve done well, my friend. Be ready for our arrival.”

Friend sounds a lot like puppet when Namjoon speaks it to him. Not that Hoseok could be angry at it. It was the truth. He was his damn puppet.

“I’ll be ready.” Hoseok lies one more time.

*****

Tiptoeing through the wet ground, he tries to avoid the twigs and dry leaves as best as he could. Hoseoks’ hair was damp, matted to his temples and his breathing, calm and patterned to his control. Eyes fixates on the majestic creature. Golden pelt with transparent antlers gleaming against the sunlight and forming rainbow patterns. It really was pretty.

His stomach then rumbled violently, twisting and reminding that it wasn’t that pretty. Pretty things always faded in time. Hunger didn’t. So Hoseok pulls on the tight string until it reaches just under his eye. Closing one of them, he manages to perfect his aim. Heartbeat slowed to his command.

Waiting.

Waiting for the right moment.

The creatures’ head shoots up, lilac eyes fixates on their hunter. Almost as if it knows that it is time to die. Circle of life.

“Stop! Don’t!” A high, shrill voice echoes through the trees immediately startling the deer.

Hoseok pushes the bow back watching a figure standing before him, shielding the creature as it ran off deep into the forest. He watches it hopelessly disappear amongst the trees. His stomach rumbles to the point of pain. “Thanks a lot.” He groans.

“You can’t just kill a gold deer.” The voice now moves to something soft and smooth. Like silk underneath his fingers.

Hoseok eyes finally focuses on the figure, his tongue almost clips. Long, beautiful brunette hair with deep violet eyes. A waft of lavender radiating from her body giving him some kind of warmth in his chest while her lips, so soft looking and pink tinted. “I do if I need to eat.” He replies albeit with less annoyance.

“Gold deer’s are very rare…” The beautiful lady speaks again with a patient tone. “…almost extinct.”

“So?” Why did he feel so goddamn bad saying that?

“So they are part of this forest’s ecosystem we can’t kill them.”

“I’m still hungry.”

She sighs, reaching into her brown satchel and pulling a white bag. “Bread and cheese can suffice, yes?” The beauty hands the bag to him. “What’re you doing in this forest anyway?”

Hoseok feels even more guilty for being angry when he smells the freshness steaming from the food. “I’m here for a job.” He speaks softly.

“A job?” She tilts her head, closing her satchel.

“The princess’ butler position.”

The beauty’s head moves up quickly in curiosity, eyes glimmering along with her golden skin in the humidity surrounding them. “You want to work for the princess?”

“Yeah.” There was a reluctance in his voice but he hoped the girl wouldn’t notice. “She’s always had a good reputation.”

“Like a pushover.” She scoffs walking over to the flower patches the deer was standing next to earlier. Tiny spots of pink and yellow crowded amongst weeds.

Hoseok quietly observes her small actions as she crouches down near the flowers, merely caressing it like she was checking on it. “She’s arranged the most alliances ever known in royal history before even becoming Queen. Lessened crimes. All through her diplomacy.”

“You seem to have a high regard for her.” Her words were more of a mumble but Hoseok manages to catch them.

“Good future Kings and Queens are hard to find.” Hoseok sits down on a nearby rock, unwrapping the white bag taking a slice of cheese and taking a small bite. “It’s nice to know we’re living in a time of one.” His stomach twists again in intense satisfaction from being hungry for so long. The nutty flavor of the food gracing his taste buds.

She leaves a small silence between them while her eyes admired the flowers again. Hoseok could have sworn that she was reassuring them that no deaths were made on these grounds. Something about that thought causes him to smile.

“I’m sure the princess would be happy to have you.” He heard the smile in her voice.

His stomach began to tingle with something other than hunger.

*****

Morning faded with a slight chill but the sun was strong enough to bear it. The closed circle gathered around in the throne room along with a new banner colour hung on the pillars. Rosyne couldn’t recognize the sigil of the Raven. Maybe a lost or a very small kingdom that wasn’t taught in history books too often.

She relaxes herself on the throne even it still prickles at her back. The last time Rosyne remembers sitting on this chair, it was when her legs couldn’t even reach the floor. When ruling the kingdom seemed like a fleeting goal just hovering over her head. Rosyne reaches out slowly and finds familiar fingers locking onto hers.

“You’ll be alright.” Hoseok whispers the lie to soothe her, even for a few seconds. His heart pounding through his ribcages and clenching so tight it made it difficult to breathe. This was what you set out for. The ultimate goal.

Once the double doors open, their fingers separate as they watch seven figures walk into the throne room, bursting in shades of black, red and white. Two figures in the middle, a man dressed in a velvet red coat while the woman was wearing a white, diamond encrusted gown. The woman has a slight limp as she walked if Rosyne focuses enough.

Blond hair a little over his left brow, the man in the middle—who she assumes would be King Namjoon—speaks with a soft smile. “Good morning, Queen Rosyne.” He bows a little. “I am pleased that you agreed to meet me.”

“Making alliances is always a good start for a peaceful world.” Rosyne smiles, deep violet eyes popping against the lavender dress she adorned.

Namjoons’ grin widens. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

As much as Rosyne wants to keep the pleasantries going, she knew no King or Queen ever liked wasting their time far too much. “What are your terms then, Prince?” She keeps a decent smile on her face.

“My kingdom is small.” He presses a hand to his chest. “However my military power and ancestral influence runs deep and vast.”

“Yes I’ve heard your numbers surpass many kingdoms.” At least that was the minimal information Hoseok gave her in the short amount of time they had.

“Therefore—”

Hoseok takes in a deep breath and holds it in his lungs as Namjoon leaves a silence in the throne room. He tries his best not to face Kiku even though he could notice her glance towards him.

“—I might have to ask for a certain—proposition.”

Rosyne narrows her gaze but keeps a certain softness to her expression. “Proposition?”

“My spymasters have seen many whispers about possible threats and assassinations on your Majesty’s life.” Namjoon gestures behind him towards a honey blond man with plump lips and smaller frame. With piercing eyes like his, Rosyne assumed he could catch anything out of place. “If I handed my forces to you then it may help a worst case scenario.”

“I appreciate the protection.” Rosyne grins giving him an acknowledging nod. “But what must I give you in return?”

Hoseoks’ fingers twitch still feeling her touch warm on his skin. So warm and comforting, bringing him all the peace he ever wanted. Then something twists in his stomach when he notices Namjoon take a breath to speak again.

“Your throne.”

Rosyne couldn’t even catch the council bursting into their baffled murmurs. Her body grew hot, fingers trembling against the wood of the chair arm but she tries to maintain a calm face. She was not connected to the throne by her hip. The only thing connected to it that she loved was her father but he was gone.

“Care to elaborate, Prince Kim?” She tries to drag it on a little more. Maybe breathe in for a while longer to calm herself.

“You will have the title as Queen…” Namjoon waves his hand. “—but I will need to take the reins if we were to protect this vulnerable kingdom effectively.”

Her kingdom was vulnerable. Military forces lesser than it usually was. If she disagrees and disrespects him somehow then there was no telling whether Namjoon will take it by force. Which would bring her back to the original fear in her mind.

Rosyne gulps down before immediately giving the male a kind smile. “Give me some time to think about this.”

Namjoons’ grin stretches wider. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

-

Rosyne tries not to rush out of the throne room too fast. She manages to keep herself steady until they reach the hallway, her body loosens. Back rests against the wall as her chest rises and falls, deep breaths stuck inside her lungs now pushing out in light heaves. Hand came up to her belly trying to caress it gently. She had no choice. There was no choice.

She notices a figure coming towards her until he stands in front of her.

“Very forward request.” Hoseok comments towards Namjoon, foolishly trying to keep a farce when the confidence inside him was slowly crumbling.

“Yes it was…” Rosyne breathes out. “…but—”

“But?”

“Hoseok…” Rosyne swallows down the light lump in her throat. Her fathers’ words replying in her head. She needed to protect this kingdom. What if that meant giving it up for its’ own good? “I might have to agree.” Her voice rung low and almost meek but Hoseok always catches her voice.

“What?” Part of it was pretending but a small part of him still wonders. What would make her agree to giving the kingdom away?

“The kingdom is vulnerable, you were right.” She sighs, reaching out and holding onto his hand again. Whenever the heat gets to her head Rosyne finds momentary peace playing with his fingers and watch them intertwine with her own. “Now more than ever. We need their help.”

“He’ll take over the kingdom, Rosyne.” Desperation laces in his tone. There was this strange corner of his mind that wishes the woman would fight more, thrash and claw at anyone who tried to defile the soil she ruled. But Hoseok knew Rosyne wouldn’t. She cared too much for her own good to let blood stain her palace walls. God, he hated it. “You’ll—you’ll be put away.”

Rosyne stammers lightly before biting down her bottom lip. With a shake of her head, she speaks. “I don’t see another choice right now.” Eyes flicker up to meet his gaze searching his concerned expression. “But I’ll only do it if you think it’s right.”

Breath hitches in his throat for a moment. “W-Why me?”

“I don’t have a lot of advisors aside from you and Kiku.” Rosyne chuckles nervously. “And Kiku told me to do what I thought was right.”

Almost as if fate carefully chose how to torture Hoseok the most. Instead of letting Rosyne decide for herself, now it was on his shoulders. His fingers tightened around hers—as a silent way to apologize for what he was about to do.

“I say agree.” Hoseok presses his lips together immediately.

Rosynes’ expression softens as she nods. “Okay.” A small smile tugs at her lips and Hoseok wants to take it back.

He really wants to take it back but the Queen was already loosening her grip from his hand and walking back to the throne room.

“I’m so sorry.” Hoseok whispers once she disappears.

-

Back at the throne room, Rosyne notices that the woman in the white dress is now sited on a chair. She smiles a little assuming Kiku must have noticed her in pain and brought in a seat for the remainder of the meeting.

Once she stands in the front of the throne, the attendants in the room fade to a pin-drop silence. All eyes fixate on her with an air of anticipation and some maybe a little fear.

Rosyne takes a deep breath. “This kingdom is my home. I grew up running around this very palace while my caretakers kept telling me that one day it will all belong to me.” As she examines the faces, the fear is still there curdling in the depths of their gazes. “Every monarch has to make difficult decisions…” She licks her lips. “…even if it means having to step down from power.”

The council began murmuring again, still in their shocked tones. Kiku, on the other hand, looked rather calm giving Rosyne an acknowledging nod to reassure her. She was going to be by her side no matter what.

“Your Majesty, I hereby hand you over the kingdom of Wisteria.” Rosyne clasped her hands together, raising her chin a little. “I trust you will give it the nurturing, love and protection that it deserves.” She expected the council to argue more. Maybe the murmurs to grow louder but they stood silent, the air of anticipation now fading into full shock and lack of belief.

Hoseok caught Namjoons’ glance towards him. Maybe sometime in the past, he would have loved to see the look of accomplishment on his brothers’ face but right now all it brought him was dread. He averts his gaze and hangs his head down to the floor. They succeeded. Yet victory tasted far too bitter on his tongue.

“I promise you, I will do the best I can to ensure Wisteria thrives for ages to come.” Namjoon bows again, indicating that it was the last time he will ever do so.

*****

Sun blazed as morning faded into midday when Rosyne walked out into the gardens with Hoseok following behind her. Dark curls bounce as she walks though the flowers like a gorgeous nature faery in her loose georgette lilac dress. Much time passed since he got accepted as the butler for the princess. His cheeks still burn at the memory of staring at the same girl from the forest being announced as Princess Rosyne.

“How many people do you fool with that whole girl in the forest thing?” Hoseok breaks the comfortable silence, attempting to catch up with the princess she seemed to be flying through the garden.

Rosyne chuckles a little. “It’s not a play. No one really asks when I’m out walking.” She shrugs.

“Then people are a little stupid.”

“Are you calling yourself stupid?” She looks over her shoulder, a cheeky glint in her eyes.

Hoseok couldn’t control the grin stretching across his lips. “Where are we going anyway?”

“One of my favourite places in the palace.” A smile was evident in her tone as they walked further into the depths of the garden.

Finally Hoseok notices something glimmering under the sunlight, almost similar to the antlers from the gold deer he almost killed that day. Past the hedges shaped like faeries and mermaids, they come in view of a majestic building. All the walls made from clear material that welcomed the sunlight forming rainbow patterns on the surface. Inside he noticed trees and bushes along with some birds flying around inside the establishment and as they walk closer, he could hear the rush of water from inside. “A greenhouse.”

“I basically grew up in this place.” Rosyne smiles at the building with her aura bursting in colours of joy.

Walking inside, Hoseok realized where the water sound was coming from. The large fountain perched in the middle while some tiny ones hiding in the bushes. A rush of cool air brushed through his clothes giving him a slight refreshment.

“The maids would help grow crops and flowers.” She reaches out and caresses some of the banana leaves next to them. “The crops grow much faster because of the controlled environment and I can give them to the people whenever their harvests are minimal.”

Hoseoks’ heart jumps at her words. “You do that for them?”

“Well just the city itself.” Rosyne shrugs as if this act alone was not enough kindness. “I want to make two more on each side of this one…” She gestures to the sides as they walk closer to the fountain. “…so there can be more for the rest of the territory. Especially with winter coming around.”

“That’s—a wonderful thing to do, Your Majesty.” As his heart jumps, a strange warmth spread across his belly almost overwhelming him to smile because the energy was too much inside him. How many kingdoms would revolt just to have a monarch that could care for their people this much?

Rosyne smiles shyly before shaking his head. “It’s not anything special. Royals take care of their people.” She sits down on the edge of the fountain. “I’m not much of an expert warrior like my younger sister is so I do this.”

“It’s still amazing.” Hoseok defends as he sits down next to her. “Fighting isn’t the only thing a royal needs to do.”

Rosyne has the slight urge to rest her head on his shoulders but quickly refrains. “Thank you. And call me Rosyne, okay? Can’t spend your entire life calling Your Majesty, you’d probably go insane.” She giggles.

*****

Walking through the hallways pungent with the scent of medicine, Yoongi made sure to keep his steps quiet and careful. Although he felt a tinge of worry when Minnie told him that the pain on her leg kept worsening. Finally he stood in front of a red wooden door, reaching up to knock until he hears some murmurs.

Leaning in, he manages to recognize the Rosynes’ voice through the wood. The words then materialized and—

Shit.

Yoongi quickly shakes his head and opens the door to see Kiku, the Royal Physician looking over her shoulder while Rosyne stood adjacent to her looking at him with wide eyes.

“Can I help you?” Kiku asks with a hard expression, standing up from the chair.

The black haired male glances at Rosyne, giving her an acknowledging nod before facing the physician again. “Queen Minnie needs some medicine for her leg. She hurt it during the journey to the kingdom.” Yoongi tries to keep his voice calm and steady even though his fingers trembled just a little.

“Alright.” Kiku’s voice didn’t change as she gazes around the table before walking over to the one full of closed potions and Bunsen burners. “Did you forget to bring your Physician?” She asks without facing him.

“The pain got worse and Seokjin suggested that you might have something stronger.” Yoongi explains.

“Is it really bad?” Rosyne asks, a concerned expression twisting her features.

He quickly smiles to reassure her. “Your physician is known to be the best so I’m sure she’ll be in good hands.”

Kiku hums attempting to stretch her lips out in an attempt of a smile before handing him a baby blue liquid. “This helps to alleviate pain and if it’s just muscle problems, it could also heal some of the damage.” As Yoongi accepts the vial, she clasps her fingers to herself. “If anything gets worse, just bring her to me and I’ll check it personally.”

Yoongi nods. “Thank you.” He gives a decent bow to Rosyne before turning on his heel and walking out of the room.

As soon as the male disappears out into the hallway, Rosynes’ smile fades into concern. “Do you think—”

“He might have heard.” Kiku replies simply. “Look, if anything gets funny here—I’m telling them. And I’m not asking, Your Majesty.” Despite her voice being soft, it still had a firmness to it. “Magic should not be used with such a condition for a very long time…alright?”

Rosyne sighs. Of course she knew it was wrong. Maybe before it was okay to keep it on the down low but it had been dragged on for too long. So all she could do was nod.

-

“Master Min…”

Yoongis’ stomach jumps when he heard the eerie voice again. Turning around, he saw the Physician walking closer until a chill ran down his spine. “Lady Kiku…” He raises his chin and looks her straight in her grey-ish toned eyes.

The corner of his lips twitched before she speaks. “I know you heard our conversation.”

“Don’t recall doing that.” He shakes his head, attempting to keep a solid stance, unblinking and keeping as much eye contact as he could. Even though the words kept replaying in his head.

“I’m assuming you’re going to tell the new pretend king, yes?” A sense of bitterness intertwined in her usually calm tone.

“He is King.”

“Sure.” Yoongi had to admit Kiku had a good talent in rolling her eyes the most subtle way possible. “Back to the point at hand I would highly advise you to keep it our secret.”

“And why would I do such a thing?” Yoongi gives a slightly mocking smirk, tilting his head.

“Because I’m sure King Namjoon would not like to hear what his most trusted advisor did to his wife.” Kikus’ expression once again unchanging.

Yoongi feels his body burn and his stomach twist. The grip on the vial tightened until his knuckles were white. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His jaw tightens.

“Multiple nights, yes.” Kikus’ lips curled into a faint smile, now mocking his previous confidence. “Whenever Namjoon is too busy to come to the Queens’ chambers. All those things you whispered in her ear while she tried not to scream in pleasure.”

Gaze darkening, he stomped closer to the woman, body heating like a volcano. “How the fuck did you—”

“It’s an ability of mine. I can see, feel and even smell anyone’s darkest secrets so long as they look me in the eye for a period of time.” Kiku searches his eyes even longer. Much to her interest, Yoongi still didn’t move his gaze away. “It’s funny to see confident men trying to stare right into me thinking they’re in power when really they’re giving me everything to destroy them.”

Yoongi scoffed. “If you can do that then how is it you never expected Hoseok to go behind your back and bring Namjoon here?”

“Because his betrayal technically wasn’t his darkest secret.” Kiku gulps down but even then one had to really focus on her movements to notice. “Every magical ability has a twist.”

Yoongis’ expression softened in slight curiosity. Hoseok hadn’t spoken to Namjoon much ever since Rosyne agreed to give the Kingdom away. Maybe their brother did not feel too happy about betraying the Queen.

“So if I keep my mouth shut about your lovely liaisons with Queen Minnie…” Kikus’ voice pulled him back into reality. “…will you keep your word on being quiet until Queen Rosyne and I are ready?”

“Fine.”

Kiku nodded with a proper smile, making her grey-toned eyes look even more deadly. “Pleasure doing business with you, Master Min.”

-

The searing pain on Minnie’s ankle faded into the dull throbbing after the potion Yoongi gave her which thankfully allowed her to walk to the window. Eyes trails across the gorgeous view of the kingdom, accents of purple from the lavenders. She loved how this place was true to its aura of purple to match their name.

As a child, Minnie used to read about the first Queen having anxiousness every single day so she would decorate the entire palace with lavender. Then on the whole kingdom would design their houses with the same flower for their monarchs would feel at peace.

Footsteps tap against the wood making her ears prick up. Before she could turn to see, a pair of arms wrap around her waist pulling her body close.

“Are you impressed?” Namjoons’ voice tickles in her ear, lips brushing against the shell.

Minnie sighs. “I’m not sure.”

“What do you mean?”

“It just…” She shakes her head. “…it seems like we’re pulling a kingdom from under her. Instead of actually earning our place here.”

Namjoons’ body stills for a moment but he continues to press light kisses on her earlobe. “She agreed to giving us the kingdom.”

“Not willingly though.” Minnie caresses his forearm as it tightens around her body. “Rosyne looked—desperate and scared. It doesn’t feel right.”

Namjoon moves down to the crook of her neck, lips parting now as he lightly suckles on the soft skin. “You worry too much.” His voices mumbles a little.

Minnie closes her eyes for a moment feeling his teeth graze. She knew all too well he wasn’t going to listen to her far too much in this mood. “Someone needs to.”

He let out a deep breath opting to rest his chin on her shoulder. “The law in states if the Commander and Queen both sign to giving away the kingdom than it is respectable to do so. Queen agreed because she’s smitten for Hoseok and the Commander—” Namjoon scoffed. “He looks like a sweaty, old fool. They’re all gullible idiots, too nice for their own good. But what we’re doing still isn’t wrong.”

Minnie gulped down, still unconvinced no matter how he tried to make it look okay. Even the Commander being a timid, old man was beyond confusing. Though her thoughts were pushed down when she felt his palm trail down between her legs, cupping over her clothing. His lips latch back onto her neck, suckling on the skin to a point where it ached causing a light gasp to hitch in her throat.

“Now stop worrying and let me help you relax, hm?”

-

Sun dipped down fading the sky into a mixture of purple and orange hue while Rosyne scratched the pen across the paper. Hair tucked behind her hair while she has her comfortable soft white dress adorned on her body. Namjoon made sure to keep her out of as many meetings as possible while Kiku would update her on certain things by chatting with some of the members.

Though she didn’t care. The only thing swirling around her mind was what Kiku told her after talking to Yoongi.

Her heart sunk deep into a pool somewhere, drowning and screaming for help but Rosyne’s whole body looked calm. She kept writing on the paper trying to swallow the lump in her throat.

The door clicked open but she didn’t move from her spot on the bed. Footsteps echoed ever so slightly onto the walls.

“Are you doing alright?” Hoseok speaks first, watching the woman writing something down while calmly sitting against the headboard.

Rosyne hums in response.

He walks to the side of the bad and sits down on the edge. “Do you need anything?”

“What was I doing wrong?” Her words linger in the air, thickening it a little.

His brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“Usually when—” Rosyne sits up a little, putting her book down. “…when people band together to take over kingdoms, it means the monarch must be doing something wrong.” She played with the fabric of the blanket. “What did I do?”

The air grew thick, making it uncomfortable to breathe as Hoseok shifted a little on the bed. Unsure of whether to move away or closer to console her. “You did nothing.” He mutters. “You’re—” So much better than them. “—a good queen.”

“Then why did you continue spying for them?”

Hoseok felt like all the air in his lungs disappeared leaving him unable to move at all. His mouth was agape looking over at the girl and finally seeing how reddened her eyes making the violet look dangerous almost. At least it would if she didn’t look so heartbroken. “Rosyne…” He reaches out and tries to hold onto her hand.

Rosyne pulls her hands away and hugs her knees to her chest. “Kiku told me that you were the one who alerted them of the kingdoms’ vulnerability—my vulnerability.”

“I really didn’t want to do it.” Hoseok persisted to shift closer until he completely sat on the bed with her. “Please–please believe me.”

“But you still did.” She shakes her head, eyes flooding with fresh new tears. “All that talk of staying by my side…everything was a lie.”

“No. Not everything.” Hoseok reaches out to hold her again. Give her some kind of comfort as he held onto her shoulder, hand cupping her cheek and wiping away tears trickling down. “I did do it to protect my brothers, yes. Namjoon had a goal and I wanted to help him reach it but—” He leans in, cupping both her cheeks so she could look at him. Even though staring at her features contorting into one of pain made his heart drop. “—what happened in our private moments—the bathhouse, everything, that was me, okay? It was all me.”

Rosyne pushed his hands away gently. “Don’t lie, please.” She sobbed out in such a weak tone. No wonder no one complained when she stepped down from Queen.

“I’m not lying, Rosyne.” Hoseok had to grip onto the fabric of her dress as his breathing grew shakier. “I’m not lying, I promise—I’m so sorry…” He whispers dropping his head down on her shoulder, sniffling lightly. “That was all me. I wanted to be with you.”

She winces wanting to push him away so badly but it felt so comforting. So annoyingly comforting. “I wanted to be with you too.” Rosyne swallows down the painful lump in her throat. “Please get off me.”

Hoseok nudges his nose against the crook of her neck for a moment before pulling away with his head hung down. Fingers curled up into tight fists as he brought them back onto his lap. “I—”

“I need to rest.” Rosyne shifted away and rested back on the headboard.

Deflated as his heart sunk down to a pit, Hoseok forced himself off the bed. “Okay.”

*****

Steam exuded from the large body of water, beautiful paintings of faeries adorned on the walls with lilac pillars and golden lining. What added to the ethereal atmosphere was Rosynes’ bare body, damp hair slicked back and her skin a little flushed from the heat. Hoseok pads further into the bathhouse, pushing the curtain closed behind him.

“I heard Gaia is going to be anointed another position.” He spoke though Rosyne didn’t seem to look startled at all, delicate fingers brushing over the heated surface. “No one’s been notified yet though.”

Rosyne turned around completely now, dipping down further so the slightly cloudy water blurred out her chest. “Yes, my father wanted to keep it on the down low for a while.” Her eyes practically shimmered in the light. “She’s being training for years.”

“You two make a strong pair for the kingdom.” Hoseok nods, hands intertwined behind his back.

“This is a place of relaxation, Hoseok.” Her voice dwindles down to a softness slightly different to what people heard out in the streets.

Hoseok couldn’t control his eyes flickering down to her chest as she ‘accidentally’ stood up a little more. Heat curdles in his lower belly. “I can see that.” His tone rings a low growl right from his core.

“That means you can stop being the butler for a little while.” Rosyne moves a little closer to him until her head moves up to watch him towering over her. “Come join me.”

The room was so warm and her voice was so welcoming. It would be very soothing to just take his clothes off, soak his body into perfectly heated water with a gorgeous princess in the water with him. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He didn’t sound convincing at all.

“What if I drown?” Rosyne pouts.

Hoseok smirked, pupils darkening as his gaze fixates deeper into her adorable yet alluring gaze. “What if someone sees us?”

“The man who had the gall to shoot a golden deer scared of someone peeking into the bathhouse?” She raises a brow, tilting her head.

With a light scoff of amusement, Hoseok noticed her stand up a little more. Something jumped in his stomach when he almost spotted her breast before she dipped down again as if silently teasing him. Then he began shrugging his coat off earning an accomplished grin from Rosyne.

Stripping off of all his clothes and carefully walked down the stairs. The intense warmth broke through the icy layer of his skin. As Hoseok moved deeper, his body melts and loosens in the comfortable burn before he sinks until he was neck deep into the heat. A light sigh passed his lips.

“Better?” Rosyne asks in such a soothing tone, he could’ve fallen asleep right there and then.

Instead Hoseok hums in response, ears pricking up as the water moved around him. He watched the princess move to the side slowly. Her beautiful features glowing and flushed but she relishes in it with her eyes closed and body, slowly swaying.

“You like it here, don’t you?” His voice echoes a little against the surface.

Rosyne smiles. “From the moment I wake up to the minute I fall asleep, there are eyes on me. Noise everywhere. Responsibilities from each corner.” She tilts her head, waving her arms gently in the water again. “This is the only place of peace I have.”

Hoseok looks around the room. “Better place than any.”

“No one’s allowed to disturb me in here.” She mutters with a slight smirk in her voice. “It’s liberating.”

“I disturbed you.”

Rosyne suckled in her bottom lip before those gorgeous eyes flicker up to meet his gaze. The violet in them faded into an almost black tone. “I wanted you to disturb me.”

Oh.

Hoseok chuckles albeit with a slight shakiness to it with the way she was looking at him. He always when she was excited but those eyes and the way her lips parted—his fingers were trembling under the water. “Don’t I count as noise?”

Glistening lips stretch into a smile as she trails closer, steam radiating from her body. “I like your noise.”

Their faces inches away from one another, lips so close all Hoseok had to was lean in a little more. Just a little more and he could feel her soft flesh. This is too far. It’s going too far. All he had to do was befriend her, just befriend at best. Maybe a thickly laid trust but not this. This wasn’t a mission though, was it? Hoseok willingly dipped into this pool because she asked. Not because of some deep goal he needed to achieve.

Because she looked at him with those damn eyes and asked in such a warm, sweet voice. He was dipping in this pool, body melting and head spinning because he wanted to listen to Rosyne. He wanted her excited, eyes losing all of that ethereal violet shade. For her to smile and feel her body closing in on him. Fuck he wanted it.

It only takes the princess to move just another small inch before Hoseok leans in, brushing against her warm lips. He feels soft palms gently press onto his bare chest causing a tingle down his spine. He wanted more. The kiss was too soft. Hand raises from the depths of the water, he cups the back of her neck and pulls her in closer.

A small gasp hitches in her throat, mouth parting for him to explore while her hands move to his shoulders. His hot palms moves from her drenched hair down to her bare back. Rosyne shivers a little even in the sheer heat surrounding them before she feels him press their bodies together.

Hoseok breaks the kiss for a split second before pecking her lips again, trailing down to her chin to her jawline. He grazes his teeth gently at first relishing in the light moan passing Rosyne’s lips. Then he bites down the soft, delicate skin. He feels her fingers grip at his hair causing him to groan against her. When he pulls away, Hoseok couldn’t help but smirk seeing the reddened mark adorning the beautiful princess. Placing a kiss on top of the new wound he moves down her neck, biting down the crook again.

Rosyne lets out a small giggle before gently pushing their bodies onto the stairs. Her legs floating a little over his lap. She smiles at how flushed Hoseoks’ lips were, thumb grazing over the bottom one as he kisses the pads of her fingers. Moving her digits down his body, her fingers wrap around his member causing a light huff of breath to leave him.

She raises and positions herself at the tip. As Rosyne lowers, her grip tightens on his shoulder, breathing a little ragged feeling her walls stretch to a slight ache.

Her movements were slow and a little careful but Hoseok has all the time in the world to watch how her features soften, relishing in the new fill. His legs feel like jelly, his entire length beautifully swallowed by her wet heat. Hands move to her hips gently not wanting to force any movements when Rosyne still tries to adjust.

Rosyne slides up just halfway before moving down, the ache now subsiding completely leaving her with the pleasurable fill. She slowly bounces up and down feeling a warmth coil in her lower belly. Her core swallows his entire length again as she grinds against him, rubbing against her throbbing nub as a moan chokes out of her.

Hoseok watches her move, fingers pads now digging into her skin as she pleasures both of them in such grace. He leans in to press more tender kisses on her collarbone. A light groan emitting under his throat as he felt a heaviness between his legs. One of his hands move up to cup her breast, skin still so warm and inviting, his thumb grazes against her nipple. Lips reached up to kiss her earlobe. “You feel so good, sweetheart…” He tries to thrust up into her, hips crashing against each other earning a shaky whimper from the princess. “So good.”

Rosyne tries to reply but it only comes out in tiny, staggered moans as she feels Hoseok meet with her thrusts, water thrashing around them. Her arms wrap around his shoulders tightly, whimpering in his ear. The heat constricted inside her, desperate to release, fingers dragging down his chest. “I’m—” She breathes out. “I’m close…” Eyes close shut as the ball kept tightening, burning and aching for more.

Before he could utter another word, the heat rushes through him, body shuddering underneath her, heaviness spewing out of him and filling the beauty. Hoseok feels every inch of him being filled with warmth, slowly pulling him into a ecstasy induced trance. A faint smile curling on his lips, he watches Rosyne keep moving on top of him, his sensitive skin aching a little from overstimulation but he didn’t want to stop.

Her whole body convulsed as she felt something warm filling her up, bursting the ball in her lower belly. Pleasure exploded to each crevice, each veins as she grips onto his shoulders trying to keep steady. Her head feels heavy, hips jerking whenever her nub touches his skin. Rosyne rests her forehead against his as her chest rises and falls slowly to a normal speed.

“Was that relaxing enough, princess?” Hoseok gives a toothy smirk, peering at the beauty through hooded lids.

Rosyne giggles breathlessly before pressing a small kiss on his lips. “Very.”

*****

Early in the morning, Rosyne forces herself to walk out of the palace and take a walk through the city in her cloak. Most of the people looked over at her and smiled, giving a decent bow. It was good they were happy. That’s all that mattered at the end of the day. She smiled back at them to somehow ease the tension.

Though walking deeper through the stalls of clothing and scents of spices, she stops hearing grunting and yelling. Rosyne quickened her pace walking towards the sound until she found a couple of guards trying to drag an old man across the ground while he thrashed around.

“What’s going on here?” Rosyne’s voice immediately halted the guards’ movements. Both of them stared over at her with a slightly confused expression while the farmer, Daehyun quickly stood up and straightened his clothes up.

“He’s not paid his taxes.” One of the guards answered, gesturing to the farmer who grimaced.

Rosyne’s brows furrow glancing over at the farmer. “Daehyun, you’ve always been able to pay taxes before.”

“Not anymore.” He scoffs. “Ever since that sod got on the throne, he’s raised the taxes. Saying it’s for military efforts.” Bitterness spewed out in every single word when he spoke about Namjoon.

“What?” She winces. “Let him go.” As soon as Rosyne gestures, the guards gave her a bow and walk off to their posts. Namjoon wouldn’t like that loyalty but that still didn’t change why they were here. “I’ll need to speak to the King to address this problem.”

“Take your throne back, Your Majesty. That could help.” Daehyun had a kind tone but it still tugged at Rosyne’s belly.

“I wish that could help right now.” She whispers to herself.

-

He knew. God Hoseok knew something was going to go wrong. With the way Namjoon held himself once he sat on that throne, the air of confidence when he had the first taste of pure power. Of course the first thing he does is strip more money from the people in the city. One the many things good Rosyne enforced as the princess was to minimize the military funding so people could have more food and other facilities.

It made the kingdom thrive with rich harvests, people with full bellies and roofs over their heads without worrying to death about their debt to the monarch. King Eirin obviously hated the idea at first but eventually pulled through when he saw how happy and bright his kingdom was because of his daughter.

Now it was all ruined.

Hoseok watched almost with a glare as Namjoon relaxes on the throne, kissing the back of Minnie’s hand and leaning in to whisper something. Eyes flicker over to Yoongi and find him averting his gaze to the door. “You need to be careful, Namjoon.” He interrupts his little flirting.

Namjoon narrows his gaze, lips still hovering over Minnie’s skin. “Why is that?”

“If you keep drastically changing rules then the people will start revolting.”

“They love their princess but I’m sure it’s not enough to revolt.” Namjoon scoffed.

“Love can be a dangerous tool.” Hoseok looked over at Yoongi who now had his eyes completely locked on Minnie. “Don’t underestimate it.”

Brows furrowed, the king stared up at his friend. “Since when do you have such high regard for love?”

Hoseok sees Rosyne’s smile in the screen of his mind despite trying to push it down. It was useless though. Despite their slight tension, Namjoon knew him well. Far too well. He noticed the other male’s expression soften into one of recognition.

Namjoon breathes out a chuckle, leaning back on his chair. “Who’d have thought? The man who wouldn’t even blink after killing.”

“I killed for you.” He tastes something sour on his tongue causing him to grimace lightly. “Not for myself.”

“And yet you doubt my ability to run this kingdom?”

Hoseok shakes his head. “I never once doubted you. But I’m still concerned.” He looks down at the male who has his head turned to his side to listen. “One bad move always leads to another.”

Namjoon takes a breath to reply but the double doors open, breaking through their thick tension. A burst of lilac and black step into the throne room. “Lady Rosyne…”

Rosyne notices Kikus’ light sigh from the corner of her eye at Namjoons’ address. If she couldn’t control her emotions then Rosyne had no chance. But she tries anyway. “I would like to offer a plead on behalf of the kingdom.” The double doors close gently behind her before the room fades into silence.

“What is it?” Namjoon waves his hand, allowing her to continue.

“The taxes. Why have you have raised them?”

“You handed me this kingdom for protection…” He gives a small, forced smile. “…military is your first line of defense.”

“My military—”

“My military…” Namjoon corrects.

“Your military is strong enough as it is.” Rosyne maintains her calm tone though her fingers trembles as the seconds go by. “The taxes were there to ensure stability so that the farmers could pay within due time.”

“Well it’s not enough to strength the military further.”

“We have an abundant amount of funds in the vaults, I’m sure you can spare some.”

“And risk a drop in our funds?” Namjoon winces slightly.

“That is what military does.”

“With all due respect, my lady…” He leans forward, resting his elbows on the armchairs. “You don’t have any fighting experience, nor any time on the battlefield. I’m afraid you can’t have a say in what military can and cannot do.”

Hoseok tightened his jaw, shooting glares to the back of Namjoons’ head. Somehow it angers him more seeing how patient and calm Rosyne looks. Not at her but him. This kingdom deserved her. She deserved so much better.

“I have experience in running a large kingdom…with all due respect, longer than you have.”

“And yet I’m here sitting on your throne.”

The room rushed with icy cold air, so harsh it makes all of them shiver except for Kiku and Rosyne who stand still and calm. Hoseok could have sworn he saw the sun disappear for a few moments. Their breaths coming out in steam.

“Kiku…” Rosyne whispers, immediately holding onto the physicians’ hand.

In seconds, Kiku let out a deep breath and the room brightened with the sun again and the people meet the comfortable warmth of the day.

Namjoons’ breathing now sounds shaky and a little ragged almost as if he was fearful. “Alright, I’ll lower the taxes…” Maybe he was. “…on one condition.”

“What condition?” Rosyne asks, hand tightening around Kikus’ to keep her calm.

“I want you to take a ride around town…” Namjoon has a careful gaze on Kiku but he quickly moves back to Rosyne before his heart feels like freezing. “…ride around town without clothes on.”

“What’re you doing?” Hoseok whispers. His body heats up faster he realizes, nails digging deep into his palms until he almost broke the skin.

“Trying to prove who the monarch really is.” Namjoon replies in a low tone before facing the former Queen again. “Do I have a deal?”

Rosyne has her hand so tight around Kiku that she could feel ice from the physicians’ veins shooting up inside her. “Will you lower the taxes?”

Namjoon attempts to give a kind smile but it all comes to be malicious and mocking. “I’m a lot of terrible things but I keep my word.”

“Then I’ll do it.” Rosyne must have been hurting Kikus’ skin at this point but at least she could feel her trying to keep it down. Light rushes of ice shoots up her arm.

“No…” Hoseok speaks in such a meek tone. “Namjoon…brother, please…”

“Thank you for your cooperation.” Namjoon ignores before sitting back on the stolen throne again with an air accomplishment and relaxation.

*****

It all happened so quickly that Rosyne feels her head spinning when they ran towards the King’s chambers after the news. Even as she sat down next to the bed, eyes actively avoiding the blood soaked bandages, her head kept throbbing incessantly. This was too soon. It’s happening too soon. “Father…” Her voice shakes.

“I’m alright.” His father chuckles albeit with a wheeze in his breath. “I’m alright, sweetheart.”

Standing at the corner of the room, hair in a mess and her arms aching, Kiku feels somewhat comfortable looking at the King in this manner. To the eyes of the world, he was ruthless and cunning. Only to the eyes of his daughter the man softened, reminding her that love showed itself in so many strange and different ways.

“You’re not alright.” Rosynes’ lips quiver. “We both know that.”

Eirin’s smile fades for a moment but he pulls it back again. “This—was going to happen eventually.”

“Not if you didn’t go to that hunt.”

“I couldn’t just lie and wait for it to happen, my dear.”

Rosyne hangs her head. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t say sorry.” He taps her chin to make her look at him again. “Never apologize for your kindness. A lot of people like telling kind people that they’re weak or unworthy. Let them think it…but always remind them who the true ruler is.” Eirin notices the inhibition still glinting in his daughter’s eyes but finds comfort when she nods.

The King then turns to the left and gives a soft smile to his youngest daughter, Gaia. “You, my child, are going to destroy so many powerful people one day.” He muses.

His comment earns a small, sad chuckle from Gaia. Her cheeks still so flushed, eyes brighter than ever and full of youth despite the things she has seen and done.

“You will protect your older sister, won’t you?”

Immediately Gaia nods. “To the death, I promise.”

Rosyne doesn’t look all too happy about that promise but she stays quiet nonetheless.

“Now…” Eirin grunts a little. “…you girls go off.” He waves his hand weakly, smiling at the both of them. “Get some rest while I rest my eyes as well.”

They both knew what that meant. As much as it would be relieving to protest till their lungs ripped apart, there was no defying the force taking their father.

Gaia gets up first, walking over to Rosynes’ side and gently holding her arm. “Come on.” Her voice was deep but still comforting.

Rosyne pushed herself back to her feet before following the two girls outside of the Kings’ chambers.

“I’ll go check on the patrol. Make sure you get some sleep, okay?” Gaia rubbed her sisters’ shoulder, a light dullness to her gaze. The youngest always tried to keep herself contained with work whenever something went wrong.

Rosyne wonders how distant she would become once the news was confirmed.

As Gaia walked away, Kiku searches Rosynes’ expression. Much to her distress she could only see fear and pain. Some part of her selfishly felt relieved that she couldn’t look into her eyes. She feared of what they might tell her. As if the Physician didn’t already know. “You didn’t tell him.”

“I couldn’t.” Rosyne whispers. “I don’t know why it’s so hard.” Maybe she didn’t want to believe it. Maybe dragging out the news helped her believe that she had more time.

“What about Hoseok? Have you told him yet?”

Rosyne shakes her head. “What’s wrong with me, Kiku?”

“If the secret gets out at the time of the King’s death, you’ll be dead.” Kiku replies simply. “Nothing’s wrong with you. You’re doing exactly what a lot of Queens should’ve done in the past.” She takes a few steps forward and places a hand on her shoulder. “But you have to tell him. If no one else, he still needs to know.”

“I know…” Rosyne mutters weakly. “Once—” She swallows the lump in her throat. “Once the funeral is done…” Her voice dwindled in such a weak whisper as if she didn’t want to make it too real by saying it out loud. “…I’ll tell him.”

*****

“Your Majesty…” Kikus’ voice calm, deathly steady voice rung into the room. Even when the council looked so much different they paused whatever they were doing to look over at the woman coming to stand in the center.

Hoseok knew they could all feel it too. That sense of chill and dread running down their spine when they faced the mysterious Royal Physician. Even as Namjoon took power, it seemed like his friend wanted to actively avoid interacting with her. Right now as well the new king tried to avoid looking into her eyes.

“Yes, Kiku?” Namjoon sounds…so kind.

Fear does that to people.

Kiku leaves a small pause for the council to really drown themselves in the feeling of dread. It even smelled like fear. If fear smelled like fresh snow. “To prevent any sudden surprise during —” The room could have turned to ice as the cold grows thick around them. “—the ride to town. I would like to inform you that the Queen is with child. Of seven months.”

Hoseok always hated how casual she was with news. Maybe it wasn’t being casual. Rosyne told him the things Kiku went through growing up. ‘People do horrible things to people they can’t understand…we’re similar that way.’ To this day he hated that conversation. No one understands the fear and dread that Kiku radiated because of the dark secrets she has in her head while no one understands the goodness and selflessness in Rosyne’s heart.

People do horrible things to people they can’t understand. He was one of them, wasn’t he? Just like Namjoon.

The thought running in his head managed to distract him for a time until a heavy heat settles in his gut masking the chill. No. No, please.

Hoseok knew Rosyne was sick for a time; vomiting, eating berries with bread and craving meat when she hated it before.

“She doesn’t look any different to me.” Namjoon asks with furrowed brows.

“The day I discovered her pregnancy, she asked me to use an illusion enchantment to hide it once it starts to show.” Kikus’ expression didn’t change nor did the cold in the room. “Though I told her to stop so the physical symptoms will start coming back.”

God…he’s so fucking stupid. Hoseok should have known.

“Well thank you for the information—” Namjoon leans back on the throne. “But the Queen has agreed.”

Hoseoks’ head shoots to look at Namjoon, forehead knitted and the burn in his gut now directed into something else. “Namjoon—”

“A deal is a deal, Hoseok.”

Hoseok tried to glance at Yoongi for some kind of silent help and even he knew, this was wrong. The way the older male’s brows furrowed and lips parted almost as if he was trying to hiss. Even Yoongi knew this was very wrong.

Minnie looked…absolutely livid. Eyes almost reddening as her fingers tremble causing her to grip onto the arms of the chair. “You need to call it off.” The queen speaks this time breaking through the tense silence.

“My love, some compromises need to be made. I can’t just give her what she asks all the time, it makes me look weak.” Namjoon, as always, softens his voice when he speaks to his beloved.

“All she’s asking is for the taxes to be lowered.” Minnie mutters in disbelief of her husband. “Your kingdom will not be harmed by that.”

“General!” Namjoons’ voice booms across the room causing Minnie to flinch a little.

A man dressed almost rusting armor and skin glistening in sweat scuttles over to the area and bows down to Namjoon. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Oh? Oh okay. Hoseok’s brows furrowed but he stayed silent.

“Does the military need more funding?” Namjoon asks.

“Y-Yes, it does, Your Majesty.”

“What will happen if it’s not funded?”

“Then we will run out of weapons a-and armor.” The ‘General’ looks around frantically at everyone in the room, teeth clattering a little while he recited something out of a script. “And the k-kingdom will be vulnerable.”

“Thank you, General.”

The sweaty man bows again, with a proud smile on his face before stepping back. Jimin quickly steps away from him and closer to Yoongi with an annoyed grimace.

“You’re asking a pregnant woman who never did anything wrong to you, to strip naked and ride around town in her condition.” Minnies’ voice shakes with anger. “You’re not a King, you’re a fucking tyrant. And it’s going to bite you back soon enough.”

Namjoon kept his gaze on the woman before facing Kiku again. “The deal will go as planned.”

Hoseok expected Kiku to say something. Do something. This was wrong.

It was different, the way she looked at Namjoon. Like she already knew how to destroy him from the inside and out.

Though when Kiku looked over at Hoseok, his heart stopped beating for a moment.

The chill was gone and all he feels is this intense heat from his toes to his head, burning his insides until he lost all the air in his lungs. Shit, Hoseok could feel it ripping him apart.

Kiku was furious. Her expression didn’t change much but her eyes screamed only one thing right at him.

This is your doing.

next chap >>