#its this tangled web of love and past understandings and relationships

[lunar-lair]

quiet gear turning sounds as i attempt to puzzle out leo and caseys relationship

its so. like this is the very Core of found family, in that their relationship is simply…undefinable

theyre brothers and theyre master and mentor and the ghost of a father and his son, still here and still alive, and theyre best friends and simply family in every way there really could be

caseys other relationships are decently cut and dry; friends, brothers, sisters. (except for cass, thats a whole different can of worms.)

leo loved casey the moment he learned he had been apart of their family, whether in this timeline or another, regardless of his placement there.

theres this innate way casey looks up to leo that he tries to live up to, little mannerisms and things that make leo proud and endeared in such special little ways. hes still one of the first people casey goes to when he has nightmares, because he always sings the same song and holds him the same and hes home in a way none of the others can manage

and hes not him and casey knows that. but thats ok. hes still here, just a little younger, more compact, a tad more complicated

there are things leo learns from him and casey learns from leo, and there are still ways leo worries about him more than some of the others and things casey trusts leo with wholeheartedly, whether due to this invisible master-student tether that matters less than weightless air or just the ways they care

yet they roughhouse and they tease and they fight over the last slice of pizza and call each other stupid names and goof off

its this intricate kind of thing. they mean so many different things to each other. a brother, home, someone to hold onto, to take care of, however leo can, someone to look up to, however casey wishes, as long as leo can provide. they stick close on the couch, casey lulled to sleep by quiet lullabies and careful braiding of hair leos refused to leave unchecked. leo frets as loudly as he always has about caseys injuries, always so comforting and careful, and a little more ‘hey, be careful’ in his every action than with his brothers. casey follows behind leo, like a little brother and a student and the one whos taken care of, and leo leads the way ahead, gentle and careful and loving and just-barely-wise.

and the very next morning, they wake up and fight over the last pancake and stick their tongues out at each other from across the lair and leo calls ‘try not to get caught up in another apocalypse!’ before casey leaves and casey only cackles back with, ‘and dont get caught in any prison dimensions while im gone!’ because their gallows humor is their finest trait, and leo teases him when he gets back about how he got injured after hauling him in gentle and firm and comforting when he showed up and treating wounds with gentle hands, and they wrestle and laugh before they fall into bed together, both finding it so much easier to sleep with someone else, casey always curled up in leos grasp

its so, so nebulous. found family always is, but casey doesnt go to the others for comfort the way he does leo, they dont treat him quite so gently, because to him, theyre more brothers than anything else. its not so clean cut, but its simpler.

leo woke up after the kraang and took two sentences to ask how casey was doing.

he learned casey had seen the elder version of him as a sensei and a father and he never looked back. by god, hed be home for this boy if it killed him. this boy that saved their world. kind, and sweet, and oh so innocent for everything hes been through.

leo could never resist holding him close, calling him darling and my star and little lilac, and casey could never resist letting him, could never resist reminding him of their age and making sure they could have fun with it, call him comet and supernova and little sensei.

[thewhyofbladez]

Confessions of an e-Stalker

This is a public safety advisory about a potentially dangerous and unstable individual that has been actively stalking for the past several years. That person is me, and between 2016 and 2020, I had driven my ex-girlfriend off the internet by being a stalking creep of a person. I will not identify her, and if you think you know her, just leave your suspicions to yourself because I’ve caused so much trouble for her and I will not involve her or her family further. I’d just rather stay dead to her.

The relationship was a hollow online teenage relationship that was never strong or healthy to begin with for a myriad of reasons, but I let myself fall way too deep because.... I guess I convinced myself that I would never have another chance at love. In 2012, we had a falling out when she left me for somebody else she was seeing while still leading me to believe we were still in a committed relationship. Instead of being the understanding boyfriend I believed myself to me, the turmoil and pain I had experienced I allowed to gradually turn me into a total monster. Letting go of her has been, without doubt, the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, and thus the following.

During this point, I had posted several journals on DeviantArt about how betrayed I felt and how much I hated her for stomping on my heart and how I wished she would die. Saying these things might not be unusual after a nasty breakup, but they were only the beginning of my worrisome behavior. I wanted people to know what she did and how much she made me suffer; I wanted her to lose any support she had from friends. Would this have made me feel better? Not at all, but I was blind with emotionally charged rage.

Between late 2012 and early 2016, I managed to distract myself with another online relationship that I rushed myself into about a month after everything went down. Any hope for that relationship dwindled due to me just getting straight into it without properly processing my emotions. And because of that, there is a third person to this tangled web of pain; but that really is another story. I’ve struggled with guilt from that experience as well, and felt it was the best exhibit as to why I believed I’m not worth loving.

In Spring 2016, my mental health bottomed out and I posted several melancholic DeviantArt Journals about how I hate myself and I was basically miserable because of emotions I had pushed deep within my psyche in the name of moving on as quickly as I could back 4 years prior. I blamed her for the failure of my relationship instead of having any sort of self-introspection. Around this time I also experienced several nightmares, one of which included one of me killing myself in front of her, which I mentioned on them. Except, that was a lie; it was a cry for attention and little else.

In early 2017, my journals ended up ruining a friendship she had, which resulted in a back and forth in anonymous harassment between us. It was incredibly stupid and childish on both our ends, and I was livid upon realizing she was using my e-mail to create accounts on cringe sites like beastforum and ekkasportal to the point that I’d end up deleting the e-mail address. I began stalking her after finding her tumblr and made an alt account to taunt her with the newly-learned information about how the relationship with the guy she left me for had ended with her getting cheated on as well and its failure being karmic. I had made more postings on how I’d like to essentially kill her and destroy everything she loved because she dared to mock me for acting like this much of an idiot manchild at the age of 23.

After this, things gradually settled down on my end after finally being medicated semi-adequately, and I was able to get my footing in building a stable life for myself, and thus I was able to spend a long while properly processing my emotions (as properly as I could at that point anyhow). At a certain point in the last 2 years, after a lot of self-introspection, I began realizing that just perhaps I was not blameless at all. I had another emotional breakdown toward the end of 2020 where I tried reaching out to her because I knew this was all abnormal and intended on trying to wrap things up on a more positive note; and as usual I bungled my approach because of being in a bad head space. Finding her was next to impossible, and it was because of my actions, and that was not lost on me.

I didn’t find that she had responded until relatively recently. It is now that I know that I really reached a Moral Event Horizon. She understandably threatened me with a restraining order if I contacted her again and stated how she was genuinely terrified of me and what I am potentially capable of to the point that she had her name legally changed. As shameful as I had already felt, having it spelled out that she worried I’d harm her children to get back at her, it honestly hurt to know that’s how low I’ve acted that she would believe that.

I have been struggling with feelings of shame and regret for my actions for a long time and had long realized that everything she said about me was the truth. Were they not true back in 2012, I saw to it that I eventually reached that criteria. I was more selfish than I ever could’ve imagined myself being. I treated her like my property and like she wronged me in every conceivable way as if it justified my actions. If my name were stripped from this story and this were just some random story on the incel subreddit, I’d have been unable to discern this from your average incel story. I don’t understand my actions, and I do not want to continue being that person.

The honest to God truth is that I was in denial for a long time about my true feelings and that I still loved her and missed her immensely and felt shame for feeling that way at all much less being unable to move on because of it. And if I had the guts to have tried and settled those feelings with her properly when it was still resolvable, almost all of this ugliness could have been avoided. I am in disbelief of my own actions and am honestly worried about what the larger implications of my actions are. As much as I’ve believed my mouth writes checks that my body can’t cash, I’ve had to face that I might really be a danger to others. I can lie and say I never meant to hurt her, but I did 110%. As if she hadn’t endured enough pain her entire life prior.

If she ever sees this; I’m just sorry for everything I put you through; all the stalking, all the harassment, all the fear and anxiety I’ve induced. I am, at the very least, seeing to it that you are no longer alone in the knowledge and the fear of who I really am. I don’t know how I ever got to the point that I did; how I could let my feelings turn me into an even more pathetic festering scrotal sack of a person than I was before. How I cold say the things that I did and ever think I was the victim. How does one purposely hurt the person they care about most and not ever realize how awful they truly are? You deserve the best this world has to offer; and it drove me mad knowing that the best does not involve me no matter how I tried. Most of all, I’m sorry for losing sight of how I should have had your back, no matter what. I do not expect you to ever believe what I say or to ever forgive me; I deserve neither. There is no punishment too great for my actions.

Never forget the things that make you special and never accept anything less than you know you deserve.

Something I want to make perfectly clear to anybody reading this; I deserve no sympathy and am not seeking it. My actions are those of a pathetic loner who was exposed to love and did not know how extremely unprepared he was was to face the baggage that came with it. Anything I said in any way defending my point of view were explanatory, not attempts to excuse my actions. As all-too-human as my motivations may have been at times, I chose to act the way I did. As oblivious as I was to how toxic and vile I’ve been, I deserve only condemnation and contempt for my actions.

I write this more than anything to take responsibility for my actions because I haven’t for much of the last decade. And everybody deserves to know the truth about who I am and how I’ve behaved, and this is all I can possibly do to finally allow healing to fully take place. I cannot heal or attempt to better myself if I hold onto this information. Earlier in the year, I lost my Grandfather who I was very close to, and I’ve felt compelled to be more like he was. He never would have acted this way, but had he, he would have done the right thing and admitted to his wrongdoings. He was a good man and that evidently did not jump down to his grandson.

I’m going to be gone for a long time; maybe forever. I cannot continue to live my life this way. This is the legacy I’ve left online; and I will not stand by it. I may be able to find some semblance of myself some day, but for now; goodbye.

-Ian (a.k.a. Ian McClaine, Frank Garrett, Samuel Dickens, Bladez636, thebladezmanII, thewhyofbladez, TheMysticalBladez, thedamagewithin, axisoffear)

[denimbex1986]

'If one thing sticks with you as your tears roll while watching All of Us Strangers, it’s how your heart seeks comfort. This film isn’t just about love and loss – it’s about diving deep into our emotions, facing our pasts, and finding healing in unexpected places.

All of Us Strangers takes viewers on an emotional journey, exploring the complexities of human connections and the power of forgiveness. Through its poignant storytelling and captivating performances, the film reminds us that healing can come from the most unlikely sources, leaving a lasting impact on our hearts and minds.

ADAM’S STORY

Let’s begin with Andrew Scott’s character, Adam. Best known for his roles as the cunning antagonist Moriarty in BBC’s Sherlock and the seductive priest from Fleabag, Andrew Scott is now a gay screenwriter in his forties living in an almost deserted London high-rise building. Adam’s story is one of unsettling recollections and lost chances. While many of us have experienced the agony of reality or its unsettling absence, Adam experiences reality and sorrow on a deeper level.

When Adam returns to the house of his childhood, he discovers that his parents – played by Jamie Bell and Claire Foy – are magically alive and exactly as they were before they passed away when Adam was only twelve years old. It’s similar to going back in time and facing the past squarely. As Adam grapples with this surreal situation, he is forced to confront unresolved emotions and face the consequences of his past actions. The presence of his resurrected parents becomes a catalyst for self-reflection and personal growth as he navigates the complexities of love, regret, and forgiveness in this unexpected second chance at familial connection.

INTERWOVEN RELATIONSHIPS

But it’s not just about the past. When Adam meets Harry, portrayed by Paul Mescal, his life takes a completely different turn. Their connection is palpable, a beacon of hope in Adam’s otherwise solitary world. As their relationship blooms, Adam confronts old wounds and embraces new possibilities.

IMAGINED CONVERSATIONS

And then you catch yourself crying as you remember one thing: imagined conversations. It’s the conversations we wish we could have with our lost loved ones – the ones that never happened or the ones we long to revisit. Watching Adam grapple with these imagined conversations is like peeling back the layers of his soul. It’s raw, real, and hits you right where it hurts.

Adam’s journey is a rollercoaster of emotions – joy, sorrow, longing, and acceptance. Through his interactions with his parents and Harry, he begins to unravel the tangled web of his past and find peace in the present.

CHALLENGES AND TRIUMPHS

As we all figured out, there’s a lack of sunshine or rainbows in this film. Adam’s path is fraught with challenges, both internal and external. He struggles with shame and worry, haunted by the ghosts of his past. And when tragedy strikes, he’s forced to confront his deepest fears and insecurities. In one scene, Adam comes out to his mother, as he didn’t have the chance to do so before her passing. Her acceptance is the ray of light in Adam’s darkness, a reminder that love knows no bounds.

EXPLORATION AND UNDERSTANDINGS

The film’s exploration of loss and longing is universal, resonating with anyone who has ever yearned for closure or reconciliation. It’s a reminder that our pasts shape who we are, but they don’t have to define us.

As the credits roll and the tears flow, one thing becomes clear: All of Us Strangers is more than just a film. It’s a mirror reflecting our hopes, fears, and desires. This film ultimately reminds us that we’re not alone, that our stories are interconnected, and that love can heal even the deepest wounds. So, I tell anyone grappling with their ghosts: We are not alone. Our story matters. And like Adam, we can rewrite our narrative and find healing in the most unexpected places. As All of Us Strangers beautifully illustrates, it’s never too late to embrace love, confront the past, and find peace in the present.'

[eijiroukiriot]

can you tell me about harutaka? i honestly am interested now bc i have no idea what it is but it being your second favorite anime ship makes it sound pretty promising :D

OKAY SO

harutaka is a ship from the kagerou project which is a vocaloid-song-series-turned-novel-series-turned-manga-turned-anime and so on and so on. the actual plot is mostly focused on a group of kids who call themselves the mekakushi dan (blindfold gang) who each have a superpower (called an "eye ability") and are stuck in a time loop that repeats every august 15th, but the main appeal of the series is the tangled web of relationships between the characters, and the songs (and chapters, etc) that focus on their relationships and histories and how those brought them to where they are today

harutaka is the ship between kokonose haruka and enomoto takane! their meeting is mostly explained in the song yuukei yesterday - basically, takane is a high school student with narcolepsy and a bad attitude who's always found it hard to make friends, since people tend to avoid her. to accommodate her during classes, her school puts her in a handicap class with just one other student - haruka, whose chronic illness has always made it hard for him to live a normal life, but who wants nothing more than to make friends, starting with takane. they're sort of opposites in that way. takane finds haruka's cheerful demeanor and relentless interest in her annoying - ideally, she'd like nothing to do with him.

UNFORTUNATELY FOR HER they both fall for each other basically as soon as they meet. the cherry on the cake is that they're dumb little teenagers who have never BEEN in love before (not to mention all the clashing feelings about having someone care about you unconditionally for the first time) so they deal with it in about the blushiest, dorkiest, most teenage way possible - haruka points his dumb cute face at haruka and she turns red and yells at him and he laughs all shy. it's a very tsundere/sweetboy romance at its core but i think the extra layers of getting to be very happy and feel normal and welcome for once in your life make this one on the surface alone

HOWEVER...you might notice that these characters don't appear to be in the lineup of the rest of the dan in the image above...except they are! just not quite as themselves. this is a bit that fits into the larger story of kagepro so it's going to sound a little strange on its own, but basically, their teacher was a part of this experiment studying the origin of the time loop they're stuck in - dealing with the supernatural powers that you gain once you're stuck in it. they don't know that he's been treating them as subjects this whole time, but going back a little into the high school romance side of things...right as the two of them are reaching the peak of their pining phase, one afternoon in class, haruka has a stroke - but to takane, it just looks like he's sleeping, and ignoring her, so she gets mad and goes home. later that day, when she finds out what happened, she realizes that this might be her last chance to tell haruka how she felt, and sprints to the hospital...except she never makes it there. when she collapses on the way, the proctors of the experiment find her, and separate her body from her consciousness, turning her into a (not quite artificial) a.i. that gets uploaded into the protagonist's computer. meanwhile, at the hospital, haruka is being offered everything he's ever wanted - a brand new body, with no weakness or illness...and no memories or emotions, either. he protests against it crying that he just wants to see takane, but it's not up to him in the end.

in their new forms, the two go by ene (enomoto takane) and konoha (kokonose haruka) - a cyber girl and robot boy. this is how they're stuck for the bulk of the story - everything that happens before this is a backstory that you only find out once you've seen both of them in action in their new lives!! and in their new lives, ene can't STAND konoha. takane really devotes herself to the role of ene, so even the people who she knew in her "past" life don't realize it's her...but it's the fact that konoha has no idea who she is that really hurts. imagine that every day you're tortured by the fact that you never got to tell the person you loved how you felt and now you're in this weird scary situation and you have no idea what's going to happen or if you'll ever get to be yourself again, and then he appears, but he doesn't look like he did or act like he did and even though you're painfully aware that it's him, he doesn't know it's you or even remember you or anything you did together...and you can't even let people know what you're feeling because you're stuck in this new identity!! through being in the dan together ene is forced to spend a lot of time with konoha but she refuses to address him by name (calling him "mr. imposter" instead which just sounds like an amongis joke now but is very emotional within the context of canon)

i really could go on and on and on about the very real angsty teenage emotions that go into this ship and the themes of love and loss but i've already gone on long enough - it's a combination of the actual dynamic and the goofy will-they-or-won't-they and the hardcore emotional story that has kept me on this train for all these years. i started shipping these two in MIDDLE SCHOOL!! and even now the fact that once the time loop is broken and august ends they get to have their happy ending and be together makes me think that wow. love is real and worth fighting for.

mekakucity actors is a bad anime and i definitely don't recommend it if you're trying to consume an easy-to-understand version of the kagerou project, but i will leave you with the anime version of yuukei yesterday because it's basically the only canon content we get of harutaka (and friends...i would explain shinaya but that's a whole nother post). thank you for letting me ramble! :)

[mymelodyheart]

Miles Between Us Chapter 8 ~Light vs Dark~

Previously in All in a Day's Work ...

A voice raced through her consciousness, telling her this was the way forward. She knew he needed his control back before he would be able to speak to her. So she got down on her knees and pulled his pants down. 

When he wrapped her hair in his fist and tilted her head back, she smiled. "Now, let's get dirty and exorcise those pesky brain chatter, shall we?" Before he could reply, she took him full in her mouth and worshipped him with her love, absorbing every frustrated growl that ripped from his throat and every emotion that poured out of him with every roll of his hips. 

She pushed him to the edge and over until he found his release, and his loud cries echoed in the air. When he shattered around her, his body slumped onto the floor and into her arms.

Claire knew they had a long night ahead of them, so she cradled him, waiting patiently for his breathing to calm. Later after she bathed him, they would talk, but for now, she was contented just to hold him a little while longer, as she wondered how many of Jamie's demons she would have to slay tonight and if love would be enough to conquer his hell.

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

Tumblr link

 Jamie reached over to the other side of the bed and stilled when all he grabbed was air. His eyes instantly flew open, and he wondered why he was in bed. He jackknifed into a sitting position, his muscles tensing against the sudden alarm that spiked through his nerves, but when he saw the sliver of light under the door and heard Claire's movement in the bathroom, he eased back onto the mattress with a sigh. 

Memories from earlier suddenly came rushing back to him. He'd arrived home, reeling with the need to expend energy, but not in the healthiest of ways. He'd ran from work after Willie had sent him home, and when he'd arrived to find Claire in the kitchen, the rush of adrenaline had buzzed through him like mad. Though he'd made up with his sister after their confrontation, the run to the cottage hadn't relieved the buildup of anxiety and guilt, but one thing had been clear throughout ...the need to see Claire had been paramount. She'd sensed something was off, but he hadn't anticipated her reading what he'd needed at that moment when he'd himself had no words for the volatile sensation raging within him. Ever since she'd arrived in his life, she'd been unintentionally rearranging everything, and all the painstaking layers he'd patched together over his broken parts were slowly being stripped away, little by little, to reveal what he'd buried underneath. 

Earlier, she'd ripped another layer off when she'd offered her body for his own release. Despite rebelling against it, his body had a mind of its own, taking his fill like a starved man and pacifying the storm within. It had troubled him to see her pleasuring him on her knees and not had been able to reciprocate back, but she'd soothed him with words and her hands. He recalled the shame and fear that had shot through his bloodstream when he thought he'd hurt her with his rough play, but the moment she'd touched him, he'd lost track of everything, the mind-bending pleasure obscuring all reasons, making him feel depleted and whole at the same time. After she'd bathed him as if he was a bairn, she'd towelled his body dry and massaged his back until his limbs had gone pliant and heavy. And just before he'd dozed off, she'd whispered into his ears, "Rest now, my love and later we'll talk." He couldn't argue, even if he'd wanted to. Because, in her, he found his equilibrium, and his skeletons didn't rattle as much whenever she was around. 

He'd just switched on the bedside lamp when the bathroom door opened, and Claire walked in wearing his bathrobe, the sheer size of it almost drowning her small frame. He couldn't help the smile forming his lips. It looked ridiculously too big on her but at the same time too adorable for words. He pushed himself up and patted the space next to him.

Watching her climbed the bed and crawl on all fours, he extended his arm out in an invitation to nestle against him. "How long was I out?" he asked. 

"An hour tops," she replied, kissing him on the lips. Instead of huddling into his arms, she sat cross-legged, facing him, a touch of worry dimming her eyes. "You were knocked out."

"Really? Only an hour? I had no intention of falling asleep. I must have been tired. I feel like I've slept the whole night." Feeling slightly disappointed he couldn't put his arms around her, he took her hand instead and twined their fingers together. 

"Willie dropped off your car, and I have your keys here," she said, pulling them from the pocket of the bathrobe and placing them on the mattress. "How are you feeling?

"Relaxed."

"That's good," she whispered, squeezing his hand.

His thumb brushed the inside of her wrist. "What ye did earlier ..." He felt a stirring in his loins when he remembered her mouth around him. "I would like to verra much do the same for ye if ye'd allow me."

"Jamie ..." she sighed, giving him a small warning look.

He shrugged, his mischievous smile telling her, Oh well! I tried. They eyed each other for a few heartbeats, a silent understanding passing between them. Jamie knew she was patiently waiting for him to initiate the talk. There was no way around it. Not even sex was going to get in the way. It had been a long time coming, and he owed her some explanations. "So ye want to talk ..."

"Would you like to have your dinner first? You haven't eaten yet."

"No, I'm good."

"Good. Let me know if you need anything."

"Aye ..." He moved into a more comfortable position. "Let's get this done and over with."

She gave him an encouraging nod. "Take your time. Whenever you're ready."

"Just a wee warning, Sassenach." He winked at her when he noticed her frown. "If this starts to feel like a therapist appointment, bear in mind I've noted all the available exits," he joked to lighten the mood.

It worked. The corner of her lips twitched. "I'll try my utmost best to keep that in mind."

He settled against the headboard and took a couple of cleansing breaths. It cleared his head a wee bit, allowing him to formulate the right words. Words that wouldn't sound like he was losing his mind. "Guilt," he began. "I told ye already before ...I have a bad case of it." His throat closed up. "It's what keeps me awake most nights, replaying all those things I didnae do right. As most insomniacs would know, nothing solves sleeplessness like a nice warm glass of despair and regret."

A flicker of worry flashed across her face. "Jamie, you told me you were feeling better." She scooted closer to him. "Have you been keeping the truth from me? Because if you are, it's not helping matters."

"No, Sassenach." He shooked his head. "I was telling ye the truth. I was feeling better, but there have been many strange things happening in the past that's just coming to light. The more I try to piece things together, the weirder it gets." He massaged his temple with his fingers. "Christ! Where do I begin?"

"Alright, one thing at a time." She paused, and he saw the cogs behind her eyes, turning. She appeared to be contemplating the best way to make it easy for him. "Did something happened at work earlier?" she asked.

He sighed. "Aye. I blew my top at work. It's unlike me to lose my head like that, especially in front of the other workers. It's kind of frightening when your emotions are beyond your control."

"Did it have anything to do with your episodes?"

"Probably. I'm not sure anymore."

"When you came home earlier, you really looked stressed, Jamie."

He stared at her and thought of the events that day. Ah, shite! Why is this so fucking difficult? They're only in the early phases of their relationship, and already she's tangled up in his web of messed-up issues. Surely this wasn't what she'd bargained for when she decided to take a chance on him? She only had a few days before she returned back to London, but here they were, it's early evening, cooped up in his bedroom trying to sort out his fucked-up head when they could be out on romantic dates. No one, except for his family, had really seen the true depths of his issues, and he'd coped fine for a long time without talking about it. Man up, Fraser - get to the bottom of it! Think of Harry! 

"My sister and I had a fight," he finally said. "But I dinnae think the fight triggered anything. Or maybe a little. Ye see, it's no' the first time we've had a squabble like that. I think the beginning of the episode has more to do with something that has been building up for the last few days. Odd dreams, memories coming to the surface and such. And the sibling bicker was the last straw."

"What do you mean?" she asked. "Has this something to do with your dream the other night? You told me you had a strange dream and you had trouble sleeping."

His heart lurched as he recalled the dream. "Aye. But it goes way before that. Partly, it has something to do with that ..." He hesitated for a moment. "...and with ye."

"With me?" She visibly braced herself, a worried frown appearing on her brows. "Jamie ...if you're concerned about me not being able to cope with your condition and leaving you, you thought wrong. I care for you, and I want to help. But I can't help you if I don't understand what's going on. Whatever you're going through, we'll face it together."

He felt encouraged by the hopeful look she gave him. "But ye dinnae ken half of it."

"No, I don't," she agreed. "But we'll get through it together. Painful as it is to talk about what's hurting you, suppressing it will only make it worse, and there's a danger you could lose yourself and forget the person you are and all the good you have done in the process. If you're waiting for time to erase all those emotional pain, it's not going to happen, Jamie. I know this because I carry a lot of pain, too, and time has done nought to erase it. You just have to acknowledge it and learn to let it go." 

His heart pounded. "This can open up all sorts of hurt, Sassenach ...for ye."

She studied him closely. "Why are you so worried about me getting hurt, Jamie? Ye're the one suffering from this condition."

His gaze lifted to meet hers, and a throbbing began underneath his collarbone. He wondered how much he could reveal about her parents' death without him disintegrating in front of her and scaring her away for good. This is the part where the room would normally close in on him, and then he would start to fidget and eventually clamp up. An uncomfortable pressure stretched against his rib cage, making it difficult to suck in a breath. They were already at the point of no return. But Claire's eyes instantly grounded him, turning the chaos in his head from a bright, blazing red to a cool, soothing blue. 

He swallowed his mounting anxiety, focusing on healing what had been damaged inside of him. "Before anything else, Sassenach ...what do ye remember about yer parents' death?"

"Wot?" Her voice sounded throaty. "Why is it relevant?"

He loathed the sudden uncertainty sneaking into her expression. He wished he could go back and take back the words. "I'm sorry, but it's pertinent that I know."

She let go of his hand and rubbed her palms repeatedly along her thighs. "I -I was with my parents when the accident happened. I never told you this part before."

The image of young Claire trapped at the back seat of the car flared to life. His head fell forward with a groan, and when she touched his shoulder, he waved a hand and motioned for her to go on.

"I don't remember much except for the feeling of being very frightened and wanting to be with my mother. After that, everything was a blur."

"Have ye ever talked to your uncle about it?" 

"Sort of," she said, scrunching up her shoulders. "When I was old enough to understand. But never in-depth." She stopped and eyed him suspiciously. "Jamie, what's with the questions about my parents? Are you trying to change the direction of this conversation?"

"No! No' at all!" He shifted position and squeezed his eyes shut for a beat. When he opened them again, he puffed out a breath. "Your parents ...the car ...I was there when it happened." She looked bewildered, but he didn't stop. "I was on my way to see my godfather. I-I was ten. And I had this ..."

"What do you mean you were there?"

Oh, God, give me strength. "I saw yer parents' accident," he said rapidly. She gasped and cupped a hand over her mouth. Shaking his head, he continued. "I ...I always thought my condition began right after my best mate died in the war zone. But it was way before that. I saw something that a child should never have to see, but I did. I would have told ye all these sooner if I had known. The dream ...I had the other night brought back all those horrific memories. Christ, Sassenach ..." He dropped his head into his hands. "I wish there's an easier way to say this. I'm so sorry for bringing this up, and I just cannae ..."

"Jamie ..." 

Then the dam shattered, and everything came pouring out of him. He told her how Harry had first appeared into his life, coming to his aid in Glasgow when he'd fallen down onto his knees while going through an episode. And the mysterious ways the older man would pop up whenever he was in dire need of help. He spoke of his suspicions of what or who he'd thought Harry might have been after his family had questioned his friend's identity over New Year's Eve lunch at Lallybroch. And how his theory had been further validated the moment Murtagh had mentioned having known Claire's parents. Then his voice faltered when he told her what his godfather had told him the other day, about him being witness to her parents' accident as a young boy. And how seeing uncle Lamb's similarity to Harry had triggered the dream and brought back all the suppressed memories. He told her how he'd held her that fateful day and how the memories of that event changed him forever, vowing to himself nothing like that would ever happen again under his watch.

By the time Jamie finished, he felt weightless. Like he'd been lugging around sandbags on his shoulders all his life, and they'd just been ripped open, dumping their contents onto the ground.

When he finally glanced up, Claire was immobile, staring at the wall behind him. The unfocused expression he'd seen the other night when he'd asked about her parents was back, only this time she appeared more thoughtful.

"Sassenach?"

Her gaze cut to his. "So you knew my dad."

"I did." She must have sensed his sincerity because she closed her eyes and her lips quivered a bit as if she's trying her hardest to keep her emotions in check. Christ, he wanted to drag her away from all the pain he'd just brought up. He didn't like seeing her like this. He'd told her more than he'd been prepared to, and they should call it a wrap for now. But he needed to know if there were any mental scars she'd been nursing and if so, he wondered if he'd made it worse. If he did, he'd never forgive himself. "Sassenach, please tell me ye're alright."

Her gaze lifted to meet his, and she hugged herself close. "I think so," she whispered. "Just give me a few minutes to let it all sink in, alright? Don't give up on me just yet." They simultaneously took a deep breath, making her smile at the realisation. He resisted the urge to pull her onto his lap and focused on what she had to say. He'd already said his bit, and now it was her turn. So he listened. "That moment at the pub, when I first laid eyes on you, I had this strong feeling we've always known each other. I even said to myself, maybe we did ...in another lifetime. All this while we had no idea we were both connected through my dad."

"Aye, I felt the same way, Sassenach, and I put it down simply to a strong attraction between us. I even thought it would pass, but the more I got to know ye, the more I wanted more of ye. It frightened the hell of me, firstly because of where ye live. I didnae think our relationship could work with my condition. And secondly, because I didnae want my burden to be yer burden. It would kill me if ye had to go through what I've been going through almost all my life."

She seemed transfixed as she made a move towards him, reminding him of the way she'd looked just before they're about to make love. Pressure rolled off him the moment she straddled his lap, leaving him almost light-headed when she tenderly placed a hand against the side of his face. "Do you realise what an extraordinary man you are?" She tunnelled her fingers through his hair, making his eyelids fall to half-mast. "You see, Jamie ...only good men feel the load of their burdens. And exceptional ones like you persist on taking more. Because of you, I want to be a better person and take some of your burdens. The same way you've carried the burden of my parents' death all this while." She laid her head into the crook of his shoulder, snuggling into his neck in a way that somehow mended a broken part of him. "Growing up without them has been hard, and it still pains me a lot when I think of what could have been. But I realise now, sometimes death has a heart, and we can't beat ourselves up for recognising it." A few heartbeats passed before she met his gaze. "Out of tragedy, we found each other, and that means their death must count for something, don't you think?"

The simplicity of her words, her acceptance of their past, the vulnerable girl he saw underneath the confident woman she was today reached every damaged corner of his being. There was no choice but to press their bodies together.

He pulled her closer and gently combed his fingers through her curls as he brushed his lips against hers. His thumb caressed her cheek before cupping it in his hand. When she smiled, his fingers tugged her chin to bring her mouth back to his. The kiss deepened, his fingers fumbling with the ties of the bathrobe she's wearing before pushing it down over her shoulders. Fluidly, never breaking contact, his lips travelled down her throat, her back arching to offer her breast. He was about to take a nipple to his mouth when he noticed a band of bruise circling her arm. He jerked back and realised there was an identical one on her other arm.

A sick feeling settling in his gut, he touched one of the bruises with his index finger. "What's this?" he asked, even though deep inside, he knew the answer already.

She rubbed it with a hand as if it was nothing. "Jamie, don't worry about it. I have pale skin, and I bruise like a peach."

He ground his teeth and shook his head. "I did this earlier, didn't I? When I came home from work, right after the fight with Jenny."

When she flinched, he felt like a bucket of ice-cold water had been thrown over him. He lifted her off his lap and got out of bed, and went to stand by the window.

"Jamie, it was nothing. We were playing rough, and these things happen."

He could feel the darkness coming back again, trying to shroud him. He needed to concentrate on his breathing. When a woman like Claire loved with such fierceness, surely that love should have enough light to push the dark away. But he was coming down hard and fast, and the sick feeling in his guts was trying to make its way up, making him want to gag.

He heard her approach, and he steeled himself when she wrapped her arms around his middle and laid her head on the centre of his back. "Jamie, you didn't hurt me. You have to believe me."

How could he want Claire's love and feel the unshakable compulsion to run away at the same time? Her arms were circled around him so tight, he thought she might be trying to join them together as one. A huge part of him wanted them joined together, but the darker side of him was scared to death. He'd allowed her to soothe him with every word, every touch. But now it was high time to get rid of the blinders. His chest hurt, and every fear he'd succeeded to overcome throughout the last few days poured down on his head.

Claire shouldn't want the man he'd become, who had a tendency to inflict pain and bruises on her skin when under the influence of his episodes even if it wasn't intended. He thought of Jenny earlier and the frightened look on her face, his fists curled, ready to cause injury. This relationship with Claire would be over as soon as she realised she'd saddled herself with a sick man with the potential to be violent, and he knew he wouldn't be able to bear it when that day came. It was up to him to make sure she didn't make this mistake because she deserved more, and he loved her too much to allow her to be blinded by their love. He didn't want her to make that error. 

"Claire ...I need to go."

Claire turned him to face her, weariness dimming her normally bright amber eyes. He'd done this to her, snuffed out the light in her. But she was so beautiful, her curls, wrecked and wild, mouth puffy from their kisses. "I'm not letting you go, Jamie. We're in this together. You have to believe me when I say you didn't hurt me and that you are a good man. You don't have it in you to hurt anyone."

Her words were hot irons branding his insides. "Dinnae say those things in the heat of the moment. Ye're too good of a person to realise when something bad is standing right under yer nose."

"You're not making any sense Jamie. Come back to bed, please ...and we'll talk it over." She was close to tears, and it was breaking his heart to see her like this. "I meant it when I said I love you and nothing ...not even this condition that you have will drive me away from you."

Jamie exhaled a sharp breath. "I need to clear my head." He walked away from her and grabbed the jeans, hanging neatly over the chair.

"I know what you're trying to do, Jamie. I can see right through you. You want to leave me because you think you're a danger to me. You're wrong." She tugged his arm and attempted to pull him towards her, but he remained still, looking anywhere but into her eyes. She grasped his face with both her hands, forcing him to look at her. "Look at me! I want you to know I'm not afraid of a fight. Just tell me what I'm up against so I can knock it down for you."

It took a lot of willpower to remain upright and resist the urge to voice out his fears. He knew she would be able to defeat his doubts, but for how long? Those fears would grow back even bigger and more persistent once time had passed and the outside world began to encroach on them. "Let me go, Sassenach."

"Never, Jamie. You said on the day before I left for London we were in this together, you and I. I'm holding my side of the bargain, and I will not let you go. So you better get used to that." 

He turned away and started to scramble for the rest of his clothes. When he finished pulling up his jeans and putting on his t-shirt and shoes, it took him what seemed like an eternity to face her. Her face was ashen as she drew the bathrobe around her. "I'm done talking, for now, Claire."

Tears streamed down her face as he grabbed his phone and keys and made his way out. He couldn't get out of the cottage fast enough. His heart hammered, his ears started to ring, his lungs squeezing out the last air. He'd hurt her. He'd seen the bruises with his eyes, and now she's crying because of him. He needed to get out fast to clear his head.

She followed him closely behind. "Please tell me where you're going, Jamie. At least give me that," she pleaded.

He couldn't stand to see her tears anymore or hear the plea in her voice. He was doing what's right for her because he loved her too much. He wasn't even sure where he was going or if anyone would be safe in his presence. All he could think of was how frightened his sister had looked at him and the bruises he'd inflicted in Claire's arms. He needed to get as far away as possible, away from the people he loved.

He got into his car, slammed the door, and started the engine. 

Claire banged on his window, her face wet with tears. "Don't do this, Jamie. We can fix this together. Please don't go. I'm begging you." 

"I love you, Sassenach. I love you so much," he mumbled under his breath as he jerked his car into gear, reversing from his driveaway. The wheels spun and screeched as he pulled away, his body shaking and his heart shattering into tiny pieces. 

Claire's safe now, he reassured himself, gripping the steering wheel tight, safe and far from the stifling darkness closing in.  

..........

Claire watched Jamie's car disappear into the darkness. She wanted to scream and crumple to the ground out of sheer despair and fear. But she realised her presence of mind was needed at this moment. She needed to call someone and alert them to what happened. Jamie could be in danger. Willie!

She ran back to the house and grabbed her phone. With shaking fingers, she wiped the tears from her eyes and tapped on the screen. She'd just managed to find Willie's name when her phone rang. She saw it was her uncle Lamb. Oh God now's not the time. Though frustrated, she answered. "Hello?"

The line crackled before uncle Lamb spoke. "Sweetheart, it's me. I hope the Scottish weather is holding up because I'm on my way for a visit. We had another setback at work, and I didn't want to hang around, scratching my arse doing nothing. I'll be arriving in four days. I hope you'll still be there; otherwise, I'll change my flight ticket to London."

Not wanting to alert her uncle with her worries about Jamie, she cleared her throat and tried to sound cheerful. "That's great! I'll be here, and I can't wait to see you! But I really need to run along. So many things going on." It wasn't a lie, but she would call him back once she'd sorted out this mess she was dealing with. "I'll call you later."

"That's fine, darling. I can't wait to meet, Jamie ..."

Oh, dear, God, please help me.

  Dear Readers,

Firstly, I'm sorry if this took slightly longer to update. My excuse: my computer has gone funny on me. I need to buy a new PC, and I've been busy looking on the net for one, hence the delay of this update.

Moving along, I'm asking you to please bear with me with this chapter. I understand it's a bit heavy and slightly dark, but it had to be done because it is necessary if the story is to gel together. Despite the heavy undertone of this latest update, I hope you've enjoyed it, and you get what I'm trying to put across. On a much brighter note, thank you so much for your feedback from the previous chapter. I love it when I read your thoughts about a scene or plot. They are so appreciated, and I'm already looking forward to what you think of this latest instalment. Meanwhile, wishing you a great start to the week. Take care of yourself always and be safe. Much love.X

[thebestbooksaround]

Do you have any whump Stiles fics??? I'm in a whump mood and I haven't been able to find anything 😭

I mean we all love Stiles here...so of course, I have some whump Stiles fics!

So we are gonna break it down into two categories, sad/emotional and hurt/physical. 

Sad/Emotional

This is Yours by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

Sterek | 73k | Mature

‘Lance’ had one hand against the back of his neck beneath his hood, and the other gripping the back of Derek’s head, sucking on his tongue almost lewdly while rocking his hips forward into Derek’s. A groan slid its way up his throat, and Derek broke the kiss, biting at the other’s full bottom lip.

“Seriously,” he said loudly, “what’s your name?”

“It’s a secret,” the other informed him, still smiling impishly, then dove in for another kiss.

Derek decided to let it go for now, he had the rest of the night to get a name out of him.

Home by TheTypewriterGirl

Sterek | 167k | Teen

January seventh. Seven days since the start of 2015, and seven days since his father’s death.

The bastard, he thinks bitterly. The past year Derek Hale had made it blatantly obvious that he hated his scrawny guts, taking every given opportunity to shove him up against a wall, growl threats in his ears and roll his eyes whenever he stepped into the room, muttering some snide comment about how spastic or idiotic he was.

So why did he fucking volunteer to take him in?

Back To The Start by Transition44

Sterek | 33k | Teen

After an unknown incident, Stiles calls the cops at Lydia's party. The incident has left him at a permanent loss for words, and calling the cops has ostracized him from his friends. Slowly but surely, he finds himself growing closer to Derek, will Derek give him the strength to speak up about what happened? Eventual Sterek. (Based off the book "Speak")

Tell Yourself This Is How It's Going To Be by loodins

Sterek | 12k | Teen

He’s only ten when Scott’s mom announces she’s going to marry someone else, even though Stiles still doesn’t understand why she unmarried Scott’s dad two years prior. The man seems nice enough—Peter Hale he’s called—although his nephew seems scary and a bit too big for Stiles and Scott to be allowed to talk to because he’s sixteen and in high school.

or

The one where Stiles is pretty sure he's cursed and everyone in his life leaves him at some point, and if they haven't yet-- they definitely will.

Tangled Webs by KouriArashi

No Relationship | 55k | Mature

Peter leaves Beacon Hills, and takes Stiles with him. It doesn’t matter how many times Stiles manages to escape Peter, because the werewolf always finds him and won’t ever let go.

Hurt/Physical

It Was My Fault by ohhitsanna

Sterek | 8k | Explicit

“There’s a patient,” she choked on the words. “I need you to take care of him. He’s practically family,” she is crying now, half sobs forcing their way out of her throat and it’s a horrible sound that makes Derek want to step back, but her grip is still strong on his top. “They won’t let me back there with him, because I’m, well,” she scoffs, “Just look at me. You have to take care of him, you’re one of the best nurses here.”

Derek finds himself nodding before he even realizes he’s doing it. He’s not sure if it’s just blatant curiosity making him want to help or the fact that he’s never seen the strong Melissa McCall break down and almost beg Derek to take on a patient. Maybe a little bit of both, he decides. “Do you have his file?” she nods, handing him a thick manila folder with different colored paper sticking out of it everywhere, this patient must see be here a lot. What the hell kind of name is that? He can vaguely make out a ‘z’ somewhere in the name, but it mostly looks like a bunch of random letters.

“Stiles, do not call him anything but Stiles.” Melissa says, as if reading his mind.

Sanctuary by DiscontentedWinter

Steter | 56k | Mature

The Hale Wolf Sanctuary isn’t just for wolves.

It turns out it’s for Stilinskis as well.

Better Than I Know Myself by Vague_Shadows

Sterek | 45k | Mature

“I’m in no need of a knight in shining armor,” Stiles interrupts. “Thank you for your concern, kind sir,” he adds with a flourish of his hand and mocking bow of his head.

“And I think I got it covered if the need arises,” Matt adds, sliding into the seat beside Stiles and throwing an arm across his shoulders.

“Right,” Derek says, feeling more idiotic by the minute. “Sorry to bug you or whatever.”

Defiance and Progress by rosepetals42

Sterek | 92k | Mature

When Derek literally stumbles into Stiles at a slave auction, he expects to buy him and his friend and stop worrying about him. He expects it to be simple and easy. But there's nothing simple or easy about "owning" Stiles. And Derek never does stop worrying.

More Than Biology by DiscontentedWinter

Sterek & Stiles + Peter | 45k | Explicit

Stiles is a teenaged, unmated omega whose sixteenth birthday is fast approaching.

Derek is the beta who loves him, and promises to claim him.

And then it all goes to hell.

I hope these help! I know some of them sort of branch away from whump, but still plenty of angst and hurt!

[sheepfulsheepyardinspace]

Do you have any Star Wars fanfic recommendations, or have a link to someone else's list? I really wanna veg out.

oh my god, DO I. this may have been the best ask in the world. i’m not really sure what u want a feel for, so i threw together some of my favorite longfics for maximum veg time from the ot/pt and links for swr and swtcw recs. they’re pretty much all luke-anakin/vader centric, since that’s kinda my bread and butter.

let’s start with frodogenic, who wrote the first longfic i ever read in sw and might be one of the funniest authors ever. they once reviewed my fanfic & i nearly cried from joy. anyway. 

The Father, 284k+, complete. “Ten years after ROTS, tormenting nightmares of his unborn child drive Darth Vader to extraordinary measures with unexpectedly drastic consequences. Clearly, experience has taught Darth Vader nothing...” 

this is my og star wars fic and boy oh boy is it amazing. i will never get over this. i don’t want to spoil anything but when i say the final chapters are great? i mean they’re legendary. sometimes i still think about them & wish upon a star that i could be such a great writer. vader’s amazing, han is spectacular, and the ocs are fantastic.

Far More Than Rubies, 70k+, complete. “Nine years after AOTC, tragedy revisits the Lars Homestead. Little Luke Skywalker is suddenly plunged into chaos as the rebel movements discover a secret military project that may make a crucial difference in the war with the Empire.”

the spiritual twin of The Father, FMTR takes a look at padmé’s character and relationship with both luke and anakin/vader that’s hard to beat. it’s darker and heavier than The Father, but it hits those same sweet, sweet emotional beats while raising the age-old question: if padmé had lived, what would she have done?

The Family Tree, 12k, complete. “In which Luke Skywalker is stranded in a tree waiting for a flash flood to recede. Too bad he's got company...”

okay, i admit, this isn’t a longfic, but it is a longshot, and it’s amazing. the imagery and description always blow me away, and the interaction (canon-compliant) between luke and vader just [chef’s kiss] get me. vader’s in full, glorious form, and it makes it all the harder when luke wrestles with the knowledge that vader is his father.

Sibling Revelry, 25k, complete. “After Bespin and before Endor, Darth Vader is shocked to discover that Luke and Leia are twins. He's even more shocked when Imperial Intelligence reports that Organa and Skywalker are, erm, a tad closer than previously suspected.”

this is complete crack and humor in the best way possible. it’s crack treated entirely seriously, and you will be in stitches, i promise. no matter how many times i’ve read this i break down.

KittandChips (@kittandchips) writes what i can only describe as food for the soul. the luke-vader interaction is insanely amazing, the world building of daily imperial life and imperial governance is amazing, and vader just has a special je ne sais quoi that u must read to understand––tragic, funny, and so, so fatherly. they’re currently rewriting the Force Bond Series to fit in with newer canon, so i will joyously binge reread the entire again (including the new Force Bond: Mustafar Weekend).

Force Bond 1: Orphan, 47k, complete. “After Owen and Beru are killed by a mysterious stranger, young Luke ends up as an orphan on Coruscant. It's a race against time as Obi-Wan struggles to find Luke before Vader realizes the boy is his son.”

Orphan kicks off the series, which tracks vader and luke’s relationship through the perils of luke’s teenagerhood while growing up under the eye of the emperor and imperial court. it’s filled with slow growth, struggle and misunderstandings as darth vader tries to single parent, and pay off in every installment. the entire series clocks in around 777k+ and is the most joyful, fulfilling reading you’ll ever have. promise.

darth-nickels (@darth--nickels) writes darker, twistier, and terribly, terribly heartwrenching aus. they’ve got a whole host, but let me introduce to my two favorites. also, check out their faux-academia on vader. it’s amazing and i love it, but i admit i am an academia hoe.

Dooku Captured, Pt 2, 16k, complete. “Dooku is taken alive onboard the Invisible Hand, and Sidious' web is torn. The Sith Lord wonders if death might have been preferable to clumsy interrogation by Anakin Skywalker.”

Dooku Captured is a longshot au told from Dooku’s pov which takes the beginning of ROTS and throws it on its head. it’s a fascinating outside perspective of anakin and obi-wan’s relationship and such and interesting examination of dooku’s psyche and especially his complex relationship with the jedi order, qui-gon, yoda, and palpatine. i cannot rec this one enough.

Black Mirror, 90k, incomplete. “The Ghost crew returns to the Lothal when they hear the Empire is investigating the Jedi Temple there. They learn Vader is alone and decide to take him out-- but what they find could change the course of Galactic history.”

Black Mirror diverges into swr territory, but make no mistake: this is entirely an examination of vader and, later, obi-wan as well as ahsoka. luke makes his appearance later in the game, and boy oh boy will you love luke’s portrayal is a microcosm of luke and vader’s relationship within canon. heed the tags, though.

jerseydevious ( @jerseydevious ) is, first and foremost, one of my favorite people on earth. secondly, though, she’s an amazing writer with a deep understanding of vader’s character and psyche, a flair for beautiful depictions, and the true ability to wring every emotion out of your body.

Two and a Half Men (with a baby), 13k, incomplete. “After a long day of bargaining with Hutts and attempting to ignore his past, Darth Vader is nearing the end of his rope. When he discovers his two-year-old son, it's the straw that breaks the semi-rational Sith Lord's back; in a rash act worthy of the Skywalker name, he scoops his son into his arms, steals a shuttle from his own fleet, and punches in random hyperspace coordinates to a destination on the other side of the galaxy. Unfortunately, father and son are not the only ones on the ship.”

Two and a Half Men will stick with you, dude. like no other. i promise. it’s a whirlwind ride with obi-wan, vader, and piett and as funny as it is heartbreaking. it touches on some heavy issues and doesn’t shy away from looking at the damage done to vader––again, heed the tags.

Helioseismology, 4k, complete. “Luke gets shot down on a supply run and caught in an ice storm. It's extremely lucky that his father followed him there.“

i’ll admit. im completely biased about this one because it was a birthday gift to me and i am sucker for litcherally anything when jd puts pen to paper, but believe me when i say you will be awed by the depth and tangled relationships between these luke and vader that jersey can illustrate in a stroke of the paintbrush. im love. always.

izzythehutt ( @izzythehutt ) i am blown away by the intricate dialogue and characterization, always. and the latin puns? im sold. im also a sucker for latin puns, but that’s a story for a different time.

In Loco Pirates, 34k, complete. “A down-on-his-luck Hondo Ohnaka manages to capture the unicorn of all bounties--Luke Skywalker, which sends Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith, on a painfully familiar trip to the planet Florrum to collect his prize. The failed negotiations leave Vader in the awkward position of being stuck in a besieged pirate bunker, trying to balance keeping his wayward child safe (and in his custody) with controlling the tongue of a loose-lipped pirate who--to the surprise of no one--has a bad habit of telling 'amusing' anecdotes from the Clone Wars.”

hondo, aka the best character of swtcw, is brought to life just as vividly on paper as on screen. his entire personality brings luke and vader’s difficulties in a sort of incredulous light, which makes it as funny as it is vulnerable and tragic. the sequel, Palpatine Ad Portas, brings piett into the spotlight, and oh man do his interactions with palpatine and vader bring u all the uncomfortable vibes. relish in it.

sparklight ( @littlesparklight ) man. lemme introduce u to an amazing prolific and detailed writer. i will never get over the series they’ve written & neither will u.

Where Our Intrepid Hero Doesn’t Get Away, 122k, incomplete. “One-shots surrounding either AU situations of canon/legends works where Luke would normally have gotten away (or Vader is simply inserted into the action to come pick his child up) but in these instances doesn't, or completely new scenarios of the same. There are no deep ruminations on consequences of the situations here, just our awful Sith dad picking his son up when he'd rather not be.”

exactly what it says on the tin. u know those glorious moments of fanfic where luke’s gotten captured and ur on pins and needles, waiting for vader to show up in a moment of dark glory? here’s the moment. here’s all the moments.

Space Race, 122k, incomplete. “Owen gives in to Luke's wish to attend the Imperial Academy and Obi-Wan is too late to avert it, though he's not too late to make sure Luke leaves Arkanis before Vader can gets his hands on him. Luke spends over a month running around the galaxy before his father gets him, and from there...”

this story relishes in chase and boy is it fun. it will keep you on the edge of your seat and it’s an amazing ride.

The Suns of Tatooine, 85k, complete. “Luke ends up on a moon swamped in dark side energy after a mission goes wrong, then his father appears... and then they go on a bit of a learning experience. This could've been the only thing that would come of getting through a Sith complex with his father, but thanks to going to free Han earlier than the gang did otherwise, more revelations are had. Will that change anything?”

this series is a thoughtful, contemplative piece examining the nature of the force and the relationship the skywalkers have with tatooine. the descriptions are beautiful, the inventiveness is amazing, and you’ll be thinking about it for long afterwards.

an additional few…

Between Flight and Longing; 34k, complete. “Luke Skywalker and Han Solo journey to the planet Balen'ar on a desperate mission and find more than they'd bargained for.”

a classic and it is for a reason. the interaction between han, luke, and vader is so spectacular and the slow trudge of going through the forest with your greatest enemy and best friend is something hilarious. the end is bittersweet and fantastic.

The Sith Who Brought Life Day, 13k, complete. “An Imperial officer loses a bet and has to get Darth Vader a present for Life Day.”

somewhere between terrifying and dull, this fic presents a canon-compliant look at the hunt for luke and the grinding wheels of the empire. the oc is amazing and it echoes in true star wars spirit: sometimes it’s just some dude who can change the galaxy.

Quintessence, 5k, complete. ‘“Well, Master, I think I’ve found the one positive aspect of this situation.” “Which is?” “The Temple won’t have to pay the costs for our funeral pyres.”’

pure hilarity and shenanigans abound in pre-aotc obi-wan and anakin hijink goodness. lemme tell u––u will deeply sympathize with mace windu afterwards. additionally, check out the rest of the author’s oneshots! they’re deeply thoughtful and the interactions the author writes between obi-wan and anakin are always gold.

some extras & shameless self-promotion

here’s a full list of recommendations for star wars rebels fanfic in case this is what you’re looking for (remember when this used to be a swr blog, lmao)

i’ve also written sw fanfic, both swr and luke-vader centric. drop by and tell me if it’s any good!

[aiikawarazu]

Hourglass Chapter #22

Title: Blue & Grey

Rated: M

Summary: Blue was the color of ocean. Grey was the color of sky in winter. In March of that year, before the cold winter melted into spring, these group of adolescents at the very center of this story experienced love, pain, heartbreak, and joy. Life was a series of choices, after all. And it was as mysterious as it could be.

FFNet here || AO3 here (AO3 is late update)

Disclaimer: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin

In March of that year, Armin found a ring.

Ymir lost her job, while Historia got a letter.

In March of that year, Ayako finally fell in love, while Mikasa fell into despair.

But for a short while, in March, they had all experienced happiness in various sorts of ways.

March was the moment which witnessed many strange happenings. Some bonds were broken, while others were strengthened. At the beginning, no one could have seen how these seemingly random events were all connected, but then again, perhaps none of them were a coincidence.

Even months, and years after that, Mikasa still sometimes thought to herself – what would happen if she had chosen to do things differently?

If she had given a different answer, would things turn out the way did?

Or, was everything a predetermined setup from the beginning, flowing in one direction towards the inevitable outcome?

If only she had the answer to that.

It was a tale in the strange city of Shiganshina – when the weather was about to turn from piercing cold to warm, when the icy winter was about to give away into spring. Along with the coming of spring, these adolescents in the very center of this story had also melted away their youths into maturity.

It had all started on one chilly winter afternoon, when Armin picked up a lost ring.

- Winter Flower: Daffodil -

At first, Armin wasn't really sure whose ring it was. As usual, he was on his way home from school to the train station. Eren and Mikasa were off somewhere together that afternoon. They had been together a lot as of lately and to be honest, Armin knew what's going on between them. There was such subtle openness in the way they were casually behaving in one another's presence now – as though it was just natural for one of them to be with the other, just like the waves and the sea being of one existence. It was as if they had known each other for all their lives, even those hellish months full of fights and misunderstandings in September last year up to this January now felt like something that had happened a long, long time ago, probably from another lifetime. Indeed, life was as mysterious as it could be – a lot of things were set in motion after he met Eren and Mikasa, and the rest was history.

If only Armin knew, that him walking these streets today was also history in the making. Life was a series of choices, after all.

He was walking in a hurry in an attempt to catch the next train in five minutes – when suddenly he felt his foot kick a peculiar object on the side of the pavement. The small sound of metal clink brought the object to his notice. The circular thing glistened a little under winter sunlight, rolled half a meter away before losing balance and fell sideways, circling a few times before it finally settled down on the ground. Armin frowned. Carefully, he made a few steps to approach the object and slowly picked it up, feeling curiosity rising inside him.

A ring.

He turned the object in his hands. It was a modest ring, made out of metal and silver. Judging from the color, it was certainly not a new one. It had been worn out due to age – but at the same time, this ring was beautifully polished, proof that the owner was taking a good care of it despite of its age. If it was such an important thing – the owner must be looking for it now.

Armin ran his fingers on the outer circle. The size was small, the owner was probably a woman. He tried to turn it around for more clues. Could this ring belong to someone in Shiganshina North? It could be. After all, all the students had to travel past this road if they wanted to reach the station. And Armin knew that for a fact, a lot of students went to school by train.

If this belongs to a student – I could easily give it at school, Armin thought. He tried to look for name engravings, and his eyes glistened in silent triumph when he finally found it. There, on the inside of the ring, was engraved the name of a person, most likely the owner of that ring, in cursive letters.

Annie L.

"Annie…" Armin brows furrowed at the name. He was plunged deep in thought for a few seconds. The name seemed to ring a strange bell in his brain – he had heard that name somewhere… only he couldn't remember it.

Was there a student named Annie in their school? He couldn't recall anyone in his year – but she could be a first or third year. He stood still for a moment, the mysterious ring still intertwined between his fingers. Annie… What if she wasn't a student in his school after all? Shouldn't he be turning this to the police as a lost item?

He tried hard to remember. Every time it seemed like he was so close to remembering, his memories went up and over like thin smokes. He gave out a sigh of frustration. He couldn't let it go.

At that moment, Armin didn't know why he did it. He could have made a detour to the police before resuming his walk to the train station. He could have turned the ring in as a lost item – it was the most sensible thing to do. Armin was usually a pretty sensible person. But this time – just this time, something stopped him from doing it. Probably because he wanted to know who Annie was. Probably because he wanted to find out why exactly she took a really good care of such a modest, old ring. Or probably – because the image of this ring itself had made him curious about the owner.

Whatever the reason was, he squeezed the item carefully inside his hand and slipped it in his pocket. Then, he continued his walk toward the station, as if nothing happened. He had chosen to keep that ring.

- Winter Flower: Plum Blossom -

It was a chilly afternoon indeed. Even though it was March, the temperature was still freezing. Not a weather Jean would have preferred for this activity he was about to carry, but still he couldn't have chosen any other day.

He washed his face with the freezing cold water, turned the tap shut, and faced his expression in the foggy bathroom mirror. He looked scared. Scared, but ready.

"You got this," he said to himself as he slapped both hands to either side of his face. It was an attempt to bring him down to reality, a slap of truth on the face that he needed to have to perform this action. Swiftly he walked out to the bathroom, past the corridors, ran down the stairs, and finally reached the central courtyard.

And there she was, sitting on a bench at the far end of that courtyard. She wasn't looking at him, instead, she was looking upward toward the sky – it was almost as if she was waiting for the skies to open, and snow to fall.

Without wasting any chance, Jean drew in a deep breath and called.

"Mikasa!"

The girl turned to him.

"Jean?" she said, sounding both surprised and confused. He knew why she was behaving that way, of course. He would have to explain it to her.

"Ishijima told me you'd be here."

"Ayako..?" for a moment Mikasa seemed to be processing the fact, until she connected the dots together, and a hint of understanding finally passed on her face.

"She set me up, didn't she?" Mikasa asked, and Jean nodded, looking a bit guilty. "Yeah… I kinda… asked her a favor," he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Sorry for that."

Mikasa drew a long sigh and shifted uncomfortably on the bench, deliberately not looking at the boy standing before him. This air, this awkwardness and tension between them… she knew where this was going and she didn't like it. Damn it, Ayako. Why would she set her up like this? She already knew what's going to happen anyway.

"I just… I have something to say to you," she heard Jean say, and suddenly, her chest seemed to weigh a ton. She drew in another long, deep sigh and closed her eyes.

This was exactly the roots of all trouble, the beginning of it all. All the hurricane that seemed to turn her school life upside down had started from here. It was so simple really, just one event, and one wrong decision from her side.

But that one decision had branched into another mistake, and then another one, and… soon it had developed into a web caused by her series of bad decisions that slowly entangled her and trapped her inside. If there was one thing she did not understand back then when she rejected Jean, it's the fact that what happened between two persons were never only about the two of them.

She had thought that what happened between her and Jean was a matter between them both – but it was a clear mistake. It was not, and it never was. There will always be something, someone else – be it Nanako or other people, who were just as interested, as invested emotionally as both of them –in that relationship. These people's feelings would then become intricated, tangled, and as a result – all the emotions came together to cause complications that happened down the road. She was never an expert in interpersonal relationship – she didn't quite know how to deal with human emotions. A single mistake could cause a whole lot of chain reaction, which triggered the other events. But deep down, she might have known that this was an event that was bound to happen. Sh was going to have to face this, no matter what road she chose.

Slowly, slowly, she opened her eyes again to look at Jean. It took almost all of her to not run away from the spot. Jean looked conflicted, there was a lot of emotions on his face that she couldn't name. For a while, she thought of a way she should end this, in the least painful way possible, but then there was something on his eyes that just left her in a quiet reservation.

His sharp golden eyes spoke neither of hope nor anticipation. Those eyes just spoke of sorrow. They spoke of defeat. Somehow, it was the only emotion that kept her grounded. And in the next moment, she regained her senses back.

"What is it you wanted to tell me?" she asked.

She knew what was coming, she knew she might make another mistake here – just as that time when she rejected Jean but said that they could still be friends, when she accepted his invite but stood him up on their dates, twice – and when she decided to tell Nanako that she knew her feelings for Jean. She knew, and she wanted to offer her support, but Nanako just so mercilessly slapped her hands away, before proceeding to shatter their friendship to pieces. She had made countless mistakes back then – what would happen this time if she made yet another bad decision? When the inevitable happens, what then?

"I want you to know that I've given up on you."

Jean's words prompted Mikasa to look at him in surprise. There was a long silence when she gathered her thoughts, but Jean didn't interrupt her. He was looking at her, but he didn't say anything.

"What?" she opened her mouth, but that was all she could say.

"I give up," Jean repeated. "I give up chasing you, on liking you. I give up trying to make you look at me. I realize… that I am mighty stubborn at times. But I really… I want you to know that… it all ends today. I'm sorry if I ever made you feel uncomfortable before. Sometimes… I just cannot help it. I couldn't control my feelings and I caused you trouble. I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be sorry," she said before she could stop herself. "Jean, you're not at fault. I'm –"

"No, listen to me, Mikasa," he interrupted her gently, and she was silent, only her eyes imploring him to go on.

"I know I haven't got a fair chance on you. Even before Yeager came in… before all this shitstorm happened… I told you how I felt already but I got rejected. I should have given up then but I was too stubborn… I couldn't accept defeat, especially, my pride wouldn't allow me to give in. So… I kept going, over and over to chase you. I did like you but at some point…," he paused. "I realized, it might have been more about my pride than my feelings toward you."

His sorrow was replaced by something else now, a quiet, more subtle emotion. It was resignation.

"So… that's why I'm here today. To admit my defeat. Like I said… it all ends today."

"Jean…," she started, but then stopped. She didn't know what to say. She surely didn't expect any of this, but she was even more surprised that Jean would admit that the real reason he kept chasing her was because he didn't want to lose… because of his pride. For a while, she wanted to say sorry – sorry for all the things she did to him, for rejecting him and getting him entangled in her mess… It was almost at the tip of her tongue, but then, another word came up.

"Thank you, Jean," she said quietly. She could see his eyes widened in surprise. "For telling me this," she elaborated. "Thank you."

There was a speck of relief in his eyes. He was not sure how he expected her to take this – to be honest, he was actually prepared for feeling even worse, to admit a crushing defeat, but her words of gratitude set a huge burden off his chest.

"Well I guess…," he said to fill in the long stretch of uneasy silence between them, "I guess I should… thank you too." He shot her an awkward smile, which she returned just as nervously. Again, she heaved a deep sigh, and shot an upward glance.

"It's too cold here, we should –" but at that time, something caught her attention.

"It's blooming," she said almost in a whisper.

"Pardon?" asked Jean, clearly not following her. She pointed upwards, toward the tree branches that stretched above the park bench she had sat on earlier. "The flowers," she said. He followed her finger, and immediately understood what she meant.

When he found her earlier, she wasn't looking at the sky. She wasn't expecting the sky to open, or a heavy snowfall. She was probably looking upwards at these.

"Plum blossom," the said both in unison, and stared at each other in surprise.

"You didn't strike me as someone who knew about flowers," she commented, her surprised expression had changed into a somewhat soft smile.

"I guess… there are some things you might not know about me," Jean shrugged and answered rather bashfully. "I can see why you are excited, though," he shot an upwards glace again at the plum blossom buds, which had begun to blossom silently in the cold weather. "It takes a while for them to bloom this year."

"They bloom in the most adverse weather," he heard her say. "In the coldest winter climate – they survive and blossom. Don't you think it's amazing?" He stared at her face, which had softened considerably. She was still silently admiring the early blooms. He could sense a somewhat deeper meaning behind her words, but he couldn't dare to probe.

"I agree," he said finally. "People say flowers are weak because they live only for a short while, but for sure they're stronger than us. I mean… look at us now." He suddenly realized that he had been shivering. It was damn cold. "Listen, it's been a good talk, but we should probably go inside, yeah? Let's not catch cold."

Mikasa laughed. It was probably the first time ever that Jean was able to make her laugh, and he was taken aback.

"You were the one who asked to meet me here," she said. "Idiot."

Wow. That's two times she made him surprised today. The entire time he knew her, she never used any kind of bad words, even those that people normally considered as mild profanities.

"You have changed," he commented. Only after seeing her look of surprise did he realize that he had been saying it out loud… yet again. He covered his mouth in embarrassment. Him and his big mouth. One of these days, he should really learn to control it. But since he already said it anyway….

"Is it Yeager?" he asked. For a long while, Mikasa didn't speak. Her hand jumped to the red scarf she always had around her neck. It was just lately that she began wearing it, Jean had never seen her with it earlier, and yet, these days she was almost never seen without it. Mikasa tightened the scarf nervously, burying her lower face in it. Jean could still see her face glowing with hint of scarlet. Her reaction had said it all.

"Alright, I won't ask again," he said, sounding resigned. He was somewhat satisfied to have found his answer, though it did hurt a bit. But he had known this for a long while, so what difference did it make? He considered her again carefully, and speak, from the bottom of his heart this time.

"You look happier these days, Mikasa. I'm happy for you."

Beneath her scarf, Mikasa silently thanked him with a grateful smile.

***

"So? How did it go?" Jean just slipped his uniform open to change it with a T-shirt for a drama club practice, when a voice made him turn.

"Ishijima!" he yelled. "This is boys' locker room."

"You know no one cares about that rule," said Ayako, walking leisurely toward him and sitting on the bench nearby. "What did Mikasa say?"

"No – still, this is invasion of privacy, you know."

"What did Mikasa say?" Ayako asked again, more urge in her voice this time. Jean sighed.

"What else could she say? And just so you know, I did not confess. I went there to tell her that I'd give up on chasing her."

"Oh –" this came as a surprise to Ayako. Then, after a slight pause, "Jean… I'm so sorry."

"Don't be – it was my decision." He finished putting on a T-shirt and closed his locker with a clank. "And if anything… I was wrong about her." Ayako looked curious at this statement.

"About what?"

"Well," Jean sent her a sideways glance before continuing. "How should I say it… I think she's changed. The old Mikasa that I knew… she was beautiful but so cold, you know? It was like she never had life instilled in her. But these days, she's more… lively. I mean.. she called me an idiot for having her to meet me outside in the cold." Ayako burst out laughing.

"You probably deserved," she said. "Were you surprised?"

"Took the life out of me," Jean replied sarcastically. "It was Yeager after all… right?" he directed this question at Ayako, who only replied with a discreet smile.

"So you don't want to answer too? Damn it," Jean sighed. "Anyway, I'm over her now, I just wish her plenty of happiness." He shrugged, and began to walk toward the exit.

"You know, Jean..," he could hear Ayako call him from behind, but his words exploded before he could help it.

"I know… I sound like a loser, don't I?"

I wish you plenty of happiness was a bunch of bullshit. It took him a lot of courage to say that. To swallow his own pride, his own feelings for her, and to admit that he would bow out gracefully and declare defeat. It was a defining moment where he decided that he should never look at her again with a different feeling other than friends.

And still, in that damn little corner of his mind, there was a small voice that never wanted to shut up.

I wish you all the happiness. But when will I get my own happiness?

"Don't say that," said Ayako, rising up from the bench. She walked nearer to him, and sent a gentle squeeze on his arm. "How about… a consolation date?"

Jean turned, and regarded the brown-haired girl with a surprised look.

"What?"

"I'm free this Saturday," she said playfully. "So… let's have a date." Jean blinked a few times.

"Are you… are you joking, or…?"

"Really…. Are you seriously going to hurt a girl's feelings after I ask you out like this?" Ayako crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Are you free this Saturday, or not?"

"I –" It took a while for Jean to process her question. She really was serious.

"Of course. I'm free," he finally relented.

"Great!" she broke into a smile, and Jean was taken aback. For a split second, with smile lighting up her face, Ayako did look positively lovely. "Let's decide where to go later after practice then. See you!"

And with that, she trotted out of the locker room, leaving Jean in stunned silence.

- Winter Flower: Camellia -

"You can't do this," Ymir said, half in desperation, as she stared to the person standing in front of her – who returned her plea with a very cold expression.

"I'm sorry."

"No!" Ymir screamed. "What are you saying… you can't just – up and fire someone like that, you know? I'm – I'm the longest employed staff here, I never come late to work, never caused any trouble, why… why are you doing this?"

"Like I said," the staff who stood before her repeated with the same cold, bored expression. "This is boss's decision."

"Then let me talk to boss!"

"No use. That's why he wanted me to talk to you instead."

Ymir clenched her fists, her breath hitched up her throat in frustration. "I've got bills to pay, Takagi-san," she said, trying to keep her voice down, "You know I live alone, you know how my situation is, right? The boss knows too! Why are you doing this to me?"

"Business isn't exactly easy these days," Takagi replied with a sour smile.

"And so is my life!" Ymir's voice rose again. "If you fire me, I won't have any source of income, how… how am I supposed to live?" she clutched the front of her shirt, trying very hard to keep her emotions in check. "Are you telling me to go out there and die, Takagi-san?"

"Enough!" Takagi raised his voice too now. "The boss has already done enough for you, Ymir! Don't you realize it? We're employing an underage kid here, in a bar! We falsified your age and thanks to the boss, we never got discovered though we've come pretty close to it many, many times! Who do you think covered for your ass all those times?" Ymir looked away in guilt. It was true, the boss was the only one who took her in and employed her here despite her being underage after hearing about her situation. Thanks to that, she was able to cover for her rent, bills, and tuition for school. If not for the boss' kindness, she would be wasting away out there in the street since a long time ago.

"You should be in the social service, not here," Takagi told her, and Ymir eyed him with deep resentment. "I'm saying the truth," he said, not wavering under Ymir's look of profound distaste. You are underage, you are still in school. You shouldn't be working here. After shift is over today, pack your things." Ymir didn't say anything, she only looked down with her fists still clenched. Takagi sighed, then slowly put his arms on Ymir's shoulders.

"You need to be where you belong, Ymir."

She shook his hands away. "What do you know about where I belong?" She shot back sharply, her eyes glistened of fury, but also of tears. "In the end, you're just trying to make yourself feel good about this decision, aren't you? You kicked me out, and now I won't have money to survive! What a bunch of bullshit, saying you do this for my sake!" she shouted bitterly, and slammed her fist to her locker door in her anger outburst. She ignored Takagi's hurtful and surprised expression. Why was he the one acting like he's hurt – when clearly she was the one being kicked out here?

"If you want me out, fine! I don't need until the end of this shift. I'll get out now!" She grabbed her bag and her coat, and dashed to the exit, eyes blinded by tears. She felt angry, but more than that – she felt miserable. Once again, someone she thought she knew had betrayed her trust. Once again, she was left with no place in this world.

***

A sound of broken glass from her sister's room alarmed Frieda Reiss. She ran upstairs, and immediately knocked on her bedroom door.

"Historia?" she asked worriedly, "What happened? Are you alright?" after a few seconds of tense silence, she was relieved to finally hear her sister reply.

"Yes… I'm fine."

Her voice sounded a bit shaky and Frieda raised her eyebrows, looking unconvinced.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes… I'm sorry, I'm just a little bit tired. I knocked over the cup when I was moving some stuff," she answered again. Then, after a slight pause, "I'll clean this up immediately and go to sleep, I'm sorry…"

"That's fine," Frieda said. "Do you need any help?"

"No… I'm alright. Thank you," she said politely.

"If you say so," Frieda said, and she began to walk away from her sister's door. Inside, Historia waited until she heard her sister's footsteps going away down the stairs, then sighed in relief. Hurriedly, she gazed down to the letter in her hand. It looked like an ordinary, simple letter. The envelope had an ivory hue, the thickness indicated that it was of good quality. It might have passed for a wedding invitation, had it not been for the wax seal on the front of the envelope bearing an intricate capital letter 'R'. Once Historia saw the wax symbol, she knew who that letter was from, and that's practically why she dropped the cup she was holding on the other hand.

She glanced at the sender's name scribbled on the bottom right of the envelope, her heart racing when she saw the name.

Rod Reiss.

- Snow Flower -

Armin lay on his bed, his hair still damp from shower, carefully holding up the ring he just found back in the afternoon between the thumb and index finger of his right hand.

Annie.

He knew he had heard that name somewhere. He tried racking his brain, tried searching the internet for it – for an Annie that lived in Shiganshina, but there were too many results that he couldn't possibly dig in one by one.

Was he behaving stupid right now? What if the owner was frantically searching for her lost ring? Why didn't he just turn it in to the police station?

Maybe tomorrow I should just wait for the owner to show up near the place I found this ring, Armin thought. She will show up, and I can tell her I found this yesterday and decided to keep it.

Armin didn't know when he fell asleep. He was pretty tired, he didn't even wake up when his grandfather knocked on his door, found his grandson fast asleep, then turned off the lamp. However, just a few hours after, he suddenly he found himself wide awake. He didn't know exactly what woke him up. Floating between his consciousness, he sent a quick glance at the bedside table, and found that it was past 2 in the morning. Armin lay back down and tried to go back to sleep, but suddenly, a strange voice was ringing on his ears.

Annie… what are you doing here?

Eren's voice. Where did he her it before?

Armin tried to focus. Then, the memories came to him all at once.

That breezy autumn day in October, when Eren had just moved to Shiganshina North High, Armin had walked to the school front gate and found a female student waiting for Eren. Blonde hair, icy blue eyes, pale face as pretty as an ocean in winter. She gave him chills when she spoke.

Her name was… Annie.

***

"No."

"Please, please please… can we just ride the Takabisha one more time?"

"Hell no! My life was flashing before my eyes during that ride, you know?"

"Exactly! That's why it's so fun, right?"

"Stop it."

"Oh come on… just once? After the steep drop it wasn't too bad."

Jean regarded the girl standing before him, who was practically bubbling with excitement, jumping up and down, trying to get him to ride the Takabisha one more time with her. He sighed, then sent a dark look over the towering figure of that coaster, which rose straight up toward the sky from the ground level to 43 meters in height. Why would anyone design something so incredibly evil, Jean would never know. Not only it was high, they had to drop the coaster from 42 meters high in a world-record steepest angle of 121 degrees, took them through multiple twists and turns, going from 0 to 100 km per hours in only 2 seconds, before finally stopping in the finish line. It was only roughly a minute ride, but it was enough to scar Jean for a lifetime. He could painfully feel all the regrets in life coming back to him during the ride – and couldn't be more relieved when it was over.

But Ayako seemed to think otherwise. When she said she wanted to go on the ride again, Jean was struck with horror.

"Must you really pick something so scary?" he asked miserably. "Why can't we… have some normal rides or just…"

"Then how about the Haunted House?" she asked, and Jean's heart sunk. This park's haunted house was famous as a labyrinth modelled after some old, abandoned asylum, in which the visitors were responsible to find their own way out, with no guarantee what kind of ghosts or terrors they would encounter on the way. It was a gigantic attraction, and some visitors even couldn't find the way out for hours.

Something about the combination of being stuck for hours in a dark, scary place, modelled after some abandoned mental hospital really didn't have Jean running enthusiastically for it. No, he didn't even want to go inside, if he could. He sighed.

"Why don't we… just sit here, okay? I'll buy us some coffee." He motioned to a bench near them, and was relieved when Ayako finally nodded okay. "Latte for me," she said, and Jean nodded, quickly making his way to the nearest coffee shop before she changed her mind again and try to get him on another scary ride.

He had known that Ayako was pretty energetic and all, she was always such a contrast to Mikasa's calm and collected demeanor. When she suggested they should have their date at an amusement park, he agreed, thinking that it was a mighty fitting place for her. What he didn't know was – how much she was into scary rides and horror stuff. She breezed through all the stuff like it was nothing, enjoying them even, while he could barely even stomach it. After a drop tower ride, a 360-degree vertical rotation, a pirate ship, and finally, the infamous Takabisha which gave his stomach a dangerous turn he was almost sure he'd throw up his lunch – Ayako asked him to get on the ride one more time with such glimmer in her eyes like she'd just experienced her dream of a lifetime coming true, while he felt like he was on the verge of death.

He couldn't believe her.

Thankfully she agreed on his idea to sit down over a cup of coffee. He would have to think what he'd say to her later when they started moving again, though. Why can't they ride something that will plant their feet on the ground, for once? Jean was determined to not go to another coaster or a haunted house.

"Thank you," she said enthusiastically, retrieving her cup of hot latte from Jean, who proceeded to sit beside her.

"This park is so fun!" she commented. "I'm glad you found it so," Jean muttered darkly. He gazed down at the cup of hot americano he held in his left hand, slightly slouching with both elbows resting on his thighs. His dark tone didn't escape her attention. She raised her eyebrows, then, after a few moments of studying the boy in silence, she spoke.

"You were really scared, weren't you?"

Jean turned to face her. She sounded curious, but he saw a look of genuine concern in her face. He had to turn away quickly then, for the sight of her bright hazel eyes and blossoming pink cheeks were suddenly too much for him to bear.

"I'm sorry. I got too overexcited."

He heard her speak, and he blinked. Ayako looked a bit sheepish. "I was so excited to finally come here – I wanted to try everything so I just dragged you without thinking. I'm sorry… I was inconsiderate."

"No, don't apologize," Jean cut in quickly, as he felt his guilt sank in. "I mean I – I should be the one to…" he stuttered out, feeling devastated at her words. He couldn't help but mentally slap himself. Damn it! What kind of guy was he? Why couldn't he have handled a few scary rides? She was having so much fun, and he completely ruined it for her.

"There's a reason I want to go here, you know," she said, playing with the latte cup in her hands. It's… um… but, promise you're not gonna be mad?" she eyed him with a look, and he, feeling curiosity had taken over him, simply nodded.

"It's that… extreme rides trigger an experience that releases adrenaline. And Adrenaline helps you forget the bad things easier," she said, and he frowned, not quite getting what she meant.

"Oh God, you are so slow," she laughed, half in desperation. "I want you to have a good time. I want you to make good memories. I thought after everything that's happened… you would need to unwind, relax, and release the tension. That's why… that's why I chose this place. But to be honest, I didn't know you would be scared instead," she twirled her brown locks in her hand, looking somewhat guilty. "Sorry."

"No," Jean started. He didn't know why she would say sorry – he should be sorry instead, for ruining the experience for her, after everything she did to cheer him up. He felt so stupid.

"It takes a while to get used to, these things," she said, and Jean blinked.

"Roller coasters?"

"No, you silly," she laughed. "Moving on from someone you loved."

Her words were met with a stunned silence. She gave out a sigh.

"It's not like it is something that can happen overnight," she said. "People talk as if it's an easy thing to do – but it's not. That's why you shouldn't worry. Just take your own pace, do one thing at a time. And slowly, slowly you will heal." She smiled. "You have to."

He couldn't bring himself to say anything to her. He'd had this thought a few times about Ayako, but it was always just a fleeting thought. After all, he was always too busy paying attention to Mikasa that he never had eyes for anything else. Despite being in the same club, Jean never even had a proper time to converse with her. It was as though this was the first time Jean had really ever seen her. He knew Ayako mostly from the school rumors, she was pretty, goes to blind-date a lot, easy to get laid with and would probably do it for money. She's an easy-win, that's how guys would often call her. There were still various other names that people used to describe her. But it never really captured the essence of her as a person, and this was the first time Jean realized that Ayako, despite everything else that people might call her, really could be considered quite mature and thoughtful for her age.

"It's nice," he said finally, with a relieved smile.

"What is?" she sent him a curious glance, looking at him through the brim of the latte cup, which she was drinking to fill in the empty silence.

"Discovering a new side of someone we thought we knew." This time it was her turn to not follow his words.

"Sorry?"

"I'm talking about you," he said quite humorously. "Ishijima."

"Oh, just drop the formalities," she said. "You can call me Ayako."

"Ayako," he liked the way that name rolled off his tongue.

"Jean," she replied. They looked at each other for a few stunned seconds, then, a hint of smile began to form at the corner of her lips. He didn't know why, but he suddenly found this hilarious also. As he mirrored her expression, his eyes lit up. And the next second, they both burst into laughter.

***

It's not here. It's not here. It's not here

Annie was searching frantically, retracing her steps back from yesterday, turning every stone, every nook and cranny, but still she couldn't find it.

Her ring was gone.

She clutched at her chest with devastation. She had always worn the ring every day, dangling it on a silver chain around her neck, but yesterday, the chain was broken, and she only realized she had lost her ring when she arrived home.

She couldn't sleep that night and couldn't pay attention at all to school the day after. When the fourth period bell rang, she slipped out of class and retraced her steps back, from the train station to the streets she walked to the places she visited, but none of them resulted in any good news. It was almost hopeless, she knew. But she couldn't give up.

She let fatigue overtake her when she finally rested a bit on the way uphill to Shiganshina North High. She was here yesterday, looking for Eren, but she couldn't meet him. She leaned back against the stone wall on the side of the street and slowly sank down, crouching. The cold of winter was biting her cheeks. She was exhausted. She covered her tired eyes with both her hands, sighing in frustration. What would happen if she didn't find that ring? She didn't want to think. She had to find it… she had to. It was the only memento she had left from her father, from their earlier years together.

From their happier years.

"Excuse me," a voice came up, and she burrowed her face deeper in her hands, hoping it would go away.

"Excuse me," the voice repeated, and she ignored it even further. This voice was quite persistent, so annoying….

"Annie," now the voice called her name, and she immediately looked up. A pair of big, blue orbs were staring back at her, those belonging to a boy of her age. Blonde hair was framing his face, and he looked concerned, but relieved. Annie frowned. She remembered him.

"You are Eren's friend," she said, almost matter-of-factly. "How did you know my name?"

"About that…," the boy reached out to his trousers' pocket, and brought out something inside his fist. Slowly, he opened his hand in front of Annie, revealing the object he was holding. The girl immediately let out a gasp, and covered her mouth.

"It's yours… right? I found it yesterday."

She stretched out her trembling hand to pick up her ring from Armin's hand, her breath seemed like it had stopped in her throat all the while. She had almost given up all hope to find it, but here it was now, by some kind of miracle, this boy had somehow returned this ring to her.

She clutched the ring tightly inside her hands and brought it in front of her chest, closing her eyelids so hard and drew in a deep breath to stop tears from pouring out.

"I thought… it might be an important thing for you. That's why I didn't give it to the police," she heard his soft voice, and she slowly looked up again. She was too relieved in finding her ring back, she'd forgotten to even thank him.

"Thank you," she said, genuinely. For a while, her never-ending cold expression was replaced with a smile, which Armin regarded with surprise. She looked completely different when she smiled. And if her frosty eyes were filled with some kind of cool animosity toward him before, now it was more of a quiet, yet still distant, acknowledgement of him.

"You are welcome," said Armin. He returned the girl's smile with a speck of relief. "I'm glad."

She looked surprised. "For what?" she asked.

"Ah, well… I'm just thinking….," Armin paused. Should he say it? But he's rarely ever going to see her anyway, so… might as well take his chance now.

"I just think… you look really nice when you smile."

She looked surprised, but, Armin noted in huge relief, not in a bad way. It seemed she was taken aback at his comment, but it's not in any way unwelcome for her. She stared at him for a few long seconds, before asking.

"What's your name?"

"Armin. Armin Arlelt."

She seemed to think for a while, then…

"If there is anything I can do to thank you, let me know. I'll do it if I can."

Armin hesitated for a while. "There is… one thing I would like to ask then," he said.

"Yes?"

"Do you mind… do you mind to give me your number?"

- Blue Side -

"An Instax?"

"This kind of thing is all over the social media lately. Gives you the kind of retro feels," Armin showed up his brand-new polaroid camera to Mikasa. He had got an Instax Mini 90, a nice and compact polaroid camera with well-polished black faux leather and silver metal body, which, like Armin said, completely gave Mikasa retro vibes.

"Can I try it? I promise not to waste any films," she asked, and he smiled.

"Don't have to worry about it," Armin handed the camera over to her, and she pointed the camera to his direction, capturing him in the viewfinder window.

"Okay, smile," she said. Armin gave her a huge grin, then she clicked.

The camera produced a whirring noise, then the film came out, still looking like a blank piece of paper.

"It's going to take a while to develop," Armin said and she nodded, setting it aside.

"Eren!" she called out to the other boy, now pointing the camera to him. "Look here."

"What?" Eren was laying on his back on a wide space near the window sill, playing with the basket ball that he had somehow snuck out from the sports warehouse. He threw the ball upwards into the air, and caught it as it came back down, sometimes twirling it on the tip of his index finger. He didn't seem to be paying attention to Mikasa or Armin.

"You're going to break something in this lab with that ball soon, I just know it," said Mikasa.

He grinned. "You wish," he said, and continued to bounce the ball upward and caught it mid-air.

"When that happens, I'm not gonna cover up for you, by the way."

"Me either," Armin chimed in.

"Well, why should we meet up in a science lab anyway?" he protested. "There are other safer places I'm sure. Somewhere we're not at risk of breaking things."

"We are not at any risk of breaking things, mind you."

"Yeah, only you are, Eren."

"Also, everywhere else is full. The third years are having their cram period before the exam so we can't use the classrooms. And the home economics lab is locked cause some students from first year blew up a fuse during their cooking practice today."

"Sounds lovely," Eren commented.

"Hold that pose," said Mikasa finally, when Eren just caught the ball for what must have been the hundredth time. He looked at her, questioning, but she already clicked the camera shutter quickly. She pulled out the polaroid film, and set it aside with Armin's, which had turned out nicely.

"Nice lighting," Armin commented. "Nice use of the window light there, Mikasa."

"I'm bored," Eren interjected, finally rising from his place. "Isn't there something we can do?"

"I don't know about you – but I'm broke," said Armin. "Spent all my allowance to buy this camera."

"I don't have that much too," Mikasa commented. "Have to last until the end of the week with what little I got left."

"How much does everyone have?" said Eren. "Let's put them together."

Armin and Mikasa sent a sideways look, but they grabbed their wallets anyway to pull out their remaining pocket money. They didn't have much indeed.

"We can't go very far with these," said Eren, thinking.

"Told you."

"How about just going to that convenience store down the road to grab some cup noodles and hot coffee?" Armin said, and Mikasa was about to agree with his idea, when Eren suddenly cut in.

"No wait… I got a better idea."

***

"Whose brilliant idea was this to go to the ocean in winter?" Mikasa protested through her chattering teeth.

"Shut up, you already agreed to it anyway, so don't protest!" Eren shot back, annoyed.

The three of them now stood on Shiganshina's open coast, having just exited the bus that took them to this place. The bus driver sent them a look as if they were crazy for going to the ocean in this weather, and Mikasa definitely had to agree.

They set out on the descending staircase that brought them all the way to the beach, the freezing wind blew mercilessly all the while, cutting through their skin, and sending chills all the way down to their bones. Mikasa's hair was blown away by the fearless wind, hopelessly tangled now in all direction. Half of her regretted going here, but she knew anyway Eren wouldn't have let her say no to his plans. She had no choice but to go along with him. Once they had descended all the way to the bottom, she began taking out her socks and shoes, while Eren and Armin sent her a look.

"Might as well," she tried to bite back the cold that seemed to seep through her bones. "Go all the way now that we're here."

She put away her bag, socks and shoes, then ran bare-footed toward the ocean to catch the waves. She winced when her toes came into contact with the waves.

"Cold!" she muttered. "Eren, Armin, come on," she waved at them. "Let's have a contest to see who can last longer in these cold waves!"

Eren already took off his shoes and socks and was now running to catch her. Armin was worried about catching a cold, although he couldn't help but follow in his friends' footsteps.

"Shoot! It's so damn cold!" Eren shivered as he stood now with his feet planted in the sand, waves sweeping freely at his feet. Mikasa, who noticed the close distance between them, quietly bent down, scooped a handful of water, and splashed it at him.

"Ouch! Hey, Mikasa? What the hell?"

"That's for making us going to the ocean in winter," she said, her eyes glinting humorously. Then, she ran away before Eren could have got back at her, smiling as she heard his frustrated groan. From the reverberating sounds of footsteps though, she knew that Eren was chasing after her. He could try – he'd run a marathon before she ever let him catch her. Knowing that it was futile, Eren soon stopped his attempt. He paused to catch his breath. Mikasa wasn't called the fastest runner in class for nothing, after all.

"Eren, Mikasa!" Armin called, waving his hand to both of them. He was standing a little way up, closer to the staircase, where waves wouldn't reach him. "Get here, I'm taking your picture." He had his polaroid camera ready in hand.

Mikasa came close, still slightly wary of Eren, wondering if the boy would somehow try to use this chance get back at her. Eren noticed her, then held up a 'peace' sign.

"Let's call it a truce," he said. She frowned. She couldn't trust him at all.

"Get closer!" Armin shouted over the sound of the wind and waves crashing, "You're not even on one frame!"

So – after sending quick glances toward one another, they began to walk closer, and stood side by side. Armin peeked through the viewfinder, and gave a frustrated groan.

"You guys look like an old married couple who's fighting and haven't said anything to each other in weeks," Armin said. "Can't you just be a little more… peaceful?"

At this, Mikasa felt Eren's right hand circled down her waist. Before she had a chance to react, he had jerked her closer, and now they stood side by side without distance, his chest to her back.

"Now?" he asked Armin, almost as calmly as if they were making a commemorative class photograph. Her breath seemed to have stopped in her chest. She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut in.

"Be quiet," he said, locking his eyes with hers with an obvious grin, "Or else I'll kiss."

She could feel the heat radiating from her face upon hearing those words. God – surely this was his way of getting back at her. Despite how they were behaving in private, he knew how reserved she was when they were in front of others – even if that someone other happened to be Armin. She couldn't find any retort to give him, so she just stayed silent and looked down, until Armin shouted at her to look at the camera.

"Much better," Armin grinned in satisfaction, when she finally did. He clicked the shutter before Mikasa could say anything else, and soon he had flicked the undeveloped film inside his hand. He felt rather amused. Just because he knew what's going on between them – didn't mean he shouldn't give them a tease.

He was about to go up to retrieve more polaroid films from his bag, when he suddenly heard a scream from behind him. Alarmed, he quickly looked back. Apparently, Eren had been successful in getting back at Mikasa by splashing her with a handful of cold, freezing water. And now he's got a very angry Mikasa chasing after him. Armin sighed, and continued his climb. He will not be responsible if both of them catch colds tomorrow.

[whump-town]

ajadhkhdh that's okay! The gist of my ask was: what do you think abt Derek and Aaron's (platonic) relationship? I really think it's the most underrated friendship within the core 7. (Then again, I'm generally biased towards the two of them) so I was wondering if you had any headcanons/fic ideas for them specifically? Like after the events of Restoration, or after Hotch reveals thst Emily is not dead, that sort of thing.

I do have an ask for Restoration Hotch and Morgan so I’m going to go ahead and include what I wrote for that plus what I thought of when you asked this^^:

They’re a match made in Adrenaline Crash Hell.

Problems with authority?

Issues trusting men?

Trouble magnets?

It unnerves Haley every time she kisses her husband goodbye knowing she’s sending him out there with his equally as injury-prone partner. She loves Derek Morgan. He’s a doll and she invites him over for dinner all the time (also to occasionally get him to help Aaron do handy-man stuff around the house because she loves her husband but the man doesn’t understand woodwork at all).

They’re an unstoppable pair. 

Hotch is a fantastic sharp-shooter and he makes quick work of tongue-tying any cops that get into their way. Not to mention his legal knowledge gets them one foot in the door and guaranteed loopholes in problems that other pairs can’t solve.

Morgan is a charmer and paired with his good looks, he gains the trust of victims with ease. Not to mention, he’s fast on his feet and a close reader which means he won’t miss a single piece of evidence in a file. He excels in defusing explosives and that’s what sets them apart. 

It’s why Morgan gets sent back to Quantico with fragments of a bomb to put back together when Hotch gets sent to the hospital. 

Morgan stands in the bullpen, numb as he watches over and over as the news plays that scene on repeat. Just as it ends, they play that little clip-- the men wearing FBI kevlar and cops infiltrating the building. The radio static and Gideon’s voice giving the okay to move in. Morgan wonders when he’s going to get the call-- when Gideon’s voice is going to come through his phone and tell him he has to call Haley.

To tell her Hotch is dead…

and Jason Gideon killed him.

He manages to forgive Gideon for making him feel that hopeless. What he can’t forgive is what Gideon does to Hotch.

“The Black Queen--” Hotch informs him, one hand firmly planted on the wall ahead of him and the other tightly gripping a sleek black cane. He’s breathless and struggling to work through the pain that feels like it’s in every nerve of his body. But he’s refused Morgan’s help three times and he won’t cave on that now. 

With a sigh, he forces his body upright. His leg gives and Morgan grabs his shoulders. “Alright, man,” Morgan grunts and he forces Hotch back into the wheelchair the nurse had given them just in case. Good thing too. He lets out a breath of his own, feeling extremely better now that he won’t have to watch Hotch force his body to move in ways that it clearly does not want to.

Morgan pats Hotch’s shoulder, “what were you saying about this Black Queen chick?”

Despite just being taken off of bed rest and only being okayed for short walks this week, Hotch has already hired two new members of the team. Of their team, because as far they know, Jason Gideon will not be returning and Hotch is acting Unit Cheif until they can find somebody better-- which they know is a ploy because no one else can do the job.

Which makes the two of them the only members of the team. 

Living, that is.

Hotch chews on the end of his nails as he informs Morgan about the hacker recently caught in the FBI’s web. It makes him smile, Morgan can appreciate Hotch’s creativity in this new team. He’s good at this.

JJ had been the first person Hotch hired. She’d joined their little force last week as a media liaison and Morgan liked her right off the bat. She’d come to the hospital and Morgan had watched in shock but extreme amusement as she took right to arguing with Hotch. Not in a bad way but more of a “No, sir, you won’t be getting any paperwork until your doctor signs off on it. As that is the requirement you have to meet under federal guidelines and… because I said so.”

Needless to say, they love her. Not many people have the balls to tell Hotch no. It makes her perfect for the job.

She makes their jobs easier and she fully understands that while Hotch and Morgan are not currently physically capable of the job, it is in no way waiting for them to be ready.

There’s a slightly maddened look in Hotch’s eyes as he leans forward and tells Morgan about how much a genius this woman, the Black Queen, is. Then again, the poor man has had nothing to do for weeks and he’s taken this small task and really ran with it. It definitely doesn’t help that he’s desperate need of a hair cut and in pajamas. 

Going to interview Penelope Garcia is the first time Hotch leaves the hospital in months.

He’s promptly taken right back but he’s smiling the whole way.

Their team of four has weekly meetings in the hospital. 

Then Hotch hires Reid.

It’s strange at first but one night, as Morgan’s falling asleep it suddenly occurs to him-- That son of a bitch. Hotch and Morgan both struggle to trust men which has had a lot to do with Hotch’s hires being all women. Then Hotch does hire another “man” and it’s some scrappy-ass runt of a genius-- so, of course, Morgan hadn’t even flinched. He hadn’t even thought twice before taking the kid under his arm.

Of course, Hotch has Reid spending all his time with Gideon but he’s still a part of the team. 

But Hotch heals and returns to active duty. Gideon stays on campus. 

And then it all comes crashing in once again.

Morgan is the one to advocate for Elle. He doesn’t say a word to Hotch-- he doesn’t know why. He just goes straight up to Gideon and tells the man that they can’t pass up on a spunky woman like Elle Greenaway. 

He gets the impression Hotch doesn’t completely support this idea-- not Greenaway, just not the idea that Morgan went to Gideon instead of him.

Their friendship... struggles as Hotch takes on the full responsibilities of Unit Cheif. He’s not as fun and Morgan would prefer hanging out with the kid and Elle, so he does. 

Tobias Hankle forces them to confront that ruined friendship the moment Derek Morgan utters those simple words: “you’re a drill sergeant”.

But they remain one in the same.

“I have and always will entrust you with my life. Can you do the same for me?”

“I love my job, man.” “You love him more.”

“I don’t want you going to see Burford.”

The stand-off between the federal agents standing in the middle of the police station is clear. A battle that goes past wills and the inhibitions of troubled youths. The kind of trouble that runs deeper than still water. Trauma that grown men can’t shake. That these grown men haven’t shaken.

“Hotch, I can do this.”

Maybe, Hotch considers. Maybe Derek can to a certain degree. The way that Hotch handles it after case. The way they all handle it. “Fine,” he relents. He can’t burn the bridge between the two of them over something as stupid as egos and abusers. Not when their pasts intertwine the way they do. Braided. “Fine but I’m coming with you.”

Because if they’re going to do this, they’re going to do it together.

More or less.

There’s no denying how weak his own knees feel as Hotch watches Morgan take Buford’s hand. So, when Morgan looks him dead in the eyes and lies-- and deceives him with the excuse that he’s going to “use the head before we leave” Hotch lets him. It’s the same small infraction he’d need Morgan to allow him. The same infraction Morgan has allowed him.

“Derek? You did a great thing out there.”

The jet has been silent, for the most part. It’s only the right amount of small talk, mangled by Dave’s encouraging words. Mangled by the call.

Hotch recognizes the tone, the far off look in Derek’s eyes as he pulls his phone away from his ear. “What happened?” he can hardly push the question past his lips. Because he already knows the swell of tangled emotions. The way that anger melts into fear and doubt. The way relief wraps its cold fingers around your sternum and burns with the passion of loss. 

Because deep, deep down… Hotch still loved his father. 

“Carl Buford is dead.” 

Bile stings the back of Hotch’s throat but he remains silent and still when Morgan stands. He assumes the other man is feeling the same burning disgust. Anger with himself for being upset. Anger with Buford for making him love him in some twisted way. 

And Morgan can’t find the means to understand it. Hotch loved his abuser because he was his father. Carl was… Carl was nothing and everything and Morgan crawled his way from the muddied pits of hell without Carl and yet--

“Breathe--” he can’t even make it to the bathroom before he sinks to his knees. “It’s alright.” It’s taken Morgan years to get to a place where the presence of another man, hell an older man, doesn’t startle him. Still, sometimes someone steps too close and he flinches or gets frustrated and he can’t even explain why. 

But Hotch surrounds him. He uses his body to block the other’s from Morgan’s direct line of sight and all Morgan knows is the painful throb in his chest and the reassuring hand placed on his back. Morgan finds comfort in that hand. In Hotch who he knows without a shred of doubt not only understands but shares a fraction of his pain. 

“Just breathe, Derek.” 

Hotch looks up, his knees aching from squatting. “Blake, can you grab a water bottle? JJ, can you get me a rag?” He stays right here beside his old friend. So much as changed from those beginning years as two young and dumb agents. 

But they’re still the same broken men. 

“Hotch?”

Hotch shakes his head, “I’m right here, Derek. Always.”

[dothegravitybounce]

Well here* it is my review for The Queen's Weapon

*that is a goodreads link by the way

This book was a good addition to the Black Jewels Series and I'm here to prove it.

For that, I have to first say that I'm on Surreal's side always will and always will be. The first time I ever read Daughter of the Blood I hated it, and I mostly hated Surreal. The story and its basic concepts stayed with me, at the back of my head, always singing for me to come back, enough that 2 years later I picked it up again and fell in love with it. At my second read the first thought that went through my mind was how similar I was to Surreal, we talk the same way, have somewhat similar backgrounds, react to the world the same way, we're physically described similarly as well. That's when I knew this book had a message for me.

I feel like a lot of fans of the series, even the ones who proclaim to have Surreal as a favorite, undermine her role in the books. She is a lot of the times a driving force, a catalyst for the plot to move forward. In the first book only, she is the second point of view we're introduced, she is Dorothea granddaughter, she finds Briarwood before everyone else, she gets to meet every sigle one of the girls in there, and the end culminates with her saving Jaenelle Angelline (and Daemon). This is no small part, she's not our main character of course, that's clearly Daemon (if after 11 books you still think it's Jaenelle, then please there's no way to be discussing the book then), but she clearly has great importance to the story and that's why I'm convinced, at the end of The Queen's Weapons, that Anne Bishop wasn't actually trying to undo any of what's happened before.

And there's reasons to it. Anne Bishop's first published work is a short story called "Match Girl", published in a collection book before The Black Jewels existed. If you're a snoopy like me, you'll probably get around to reading it. The story is a retelling of the fairy tale "The little match girl", but beyond that, it's a suspiciously familiar story of a orphaned girl who has to roam the streets and ends up in prostitution to be able to survive, at all times she dreams of crossing a suspiciously familiar mountain where things are right and she could finally be happy. Reminds you of anything?

After 11 books things are not different. All of the short stories for The Black Jewels are centered around Surreal. I feel like a lot of the fans haven't read them, but my favorite is "The Price" and it should be available in the main books, it's very very short but in its few words it tells a lot about what happens inside Surreal's mind and tells a lot about her relationship with Daemon as well, if you haven't read it you should. Lots of people say they've skipped Tangled Webs when they shouldn't. That book is relevant, all of them are there's no skipping if you want to truly understand this story. But that one is relevant to Twilight's Dawn and following.

The Queen's Weapons is an answer to a fan favorite question of how Dorothea came to be. And it does provides an aswer, I'll be nice and resume it for you now: it's convenience. Dorothea, and now Delora are convenient people in which evil can hide. "If she can do it, why can I not?" This is a phrase constantly repeated by Jaenelle Saetien throughout the book. "Everyone else can do it".

Oh Jaenelle Satien... this was a master play by Anne, honestly. Who's better to go through this journey of discovering how Dorothea came to be then her own offspring. The Black Jewels have always worked by telling the story with parallels, you need to understand them to understand its message. In result, a lot is left in between the lines and the reader has to put the work in. This is something that I've always criticized about the books, even though in this one I feel like Anne tried to be as direct and clear as she could without treating the audience as idiots. In Queen's Weapon though, characters lines are usually followed by a piece of thought or narrative that explains exactly the intention and the feelings behind. That's not something that happens in the previous books, so readers do come with misjudgements to this one.

And misjudgements is the one word for this experience. Before the book released, we were all bombarded with the news that things weren't going to go smoothly and that, sadly, the child we all thought would be the most precious ever, was in the center of trouble. We wanted to hate her, we already hated her but I don't think Anne will let us. Having read it now, I'm glad that Jaenelle Satien is the person she is and that she committed the mistakes she did. An incredible character and another very brave choice from our author. Make her be the perfect follow up for Jaenelle Angelline, be an angel with no mistakes? No, why would you choose the boring path? Make her powerful, curious and inquisitive like Jaenelle Angelline, make her tenacious, stubborn, self reliant and a free spirit like her mother Surreal, and make her ambitious and rebellious like her grandmother Dorothea. This is honestly an amazing combination, I came out of this book wanting to know who Saeti will become and what she'll go through. This is a story worth telling, I know that Titian and Daemonar will be okay in the future because they see themselves as extensions of the family. Saeti, on the other hand knows she's not and she has to become something that is only hers.

And that's the most brilliant of it all. Jaenelle Saetien is Daemon, Surreal AND Jaenelle Angelline's dreams made flesh. What these 3 have in common? The whish to be themselves fully. This is a common thing between Daemon and Surreal through these lasts books, and is said by Jaenelle Angelline to Saeti: "you're me but without the pain". And it's true, if Jaenelle Angelline had never seen the horrors that people under Dorothea's wing could do she'd become like her or even worse. "Everyone one else can do it" why can't she not? She's more powerful isn't she? This is a perfect parallel. Jaenelle Satien is Jaenelle Angelline without the pain but also without the burden and responsibilities that comes with her jewel and position. The lesson with The Black Jewels was always that with power and privilege, responsibility and care are necessary, otherwise it brews corruption, it's not a coincidence that our heroes and villains are rulers. And the lesson is still the same here. Isn't that exactly what we've been seeing in the world in these lasts times? Well I digress.

For Jaenelle Satien her way to find herself and be fully herself was to disconnect from her family. Isn't that exactly Jaenelle Angelline's journey? That she chose again and again to sacrifice herself even after death to stand up for her responsibilities and take care of her loved ones? From not leaving Chaillot before being hurt because she had to protect Wilhemina, to all the way coming back from her existence solely on the Misty Place to take care of the family. She cannot be herself fully, she has always to be Queen, to be Witch so the realms can be reminded of the right ways. That's her burden, and without that burden Jaenelle Satien falls into Delora's trap. That was Dorothea's plan in the first book: find who was the special girl, take her from her family and raise her under her control.

Jaenelle Satien doesn't come out wrong because of her parents misdoings, Daemon and Surreal aren't bad parents AT ALL. They did and gave her the best, they just didn't want her to have the same nightmares as they did. She does what she does because she doesn't want to embrace those who came before her, because she wants something that is solely hers. Then why Lucivar's children don't come out like that? At first, I was also thinking they were narratively privileged, that Anne was on their side and not on JS side, trying to demonize her, but in truth it's none of that. It's on these characters essences, they WANT to be their families follow up, so they ask for guidance and help when needed. Jaenelle Satien simply doesn't, it's not on her nature, she's a free spirit, curious, stubborn, ambitious like her predecessors. She wants to discover the world by herself and only by herself and by that she cuts her family and hurts them. She had countless of times to talk about what was going on, about her insecurities, to doubt Delora and her friends, even at the house party at the end she had at least 3 different times to come around, but because she felt like a shadow she chose not to.

Isn't that exactly what happened with Surreal in the Queen's Bargain? Thinking that she had to solve everything by herself, alone and refuse help? At the time I read that book, I honestly thought that it was trying to undermine Surreal like a lot of readers thought too, making a villain of an adored character. After a re-read and specially after reading this one, I understand everything so much better. Surreal was making her family a burden to herself because she thought she had to, "isn't that what everyone else does?", she thought she had to be absolutely perfect to be married to Daemon, to erase her past. Isn't that the lesson she learned in the last book? That like everyone else in the family she could ask for help, she could lean on the others and on Witch, she didn't have to forget who she was and what she went through, she just had to actively make the choice to ask? And again, I talked about it in my last review, the one thing that would make me give up my love for The Black Jewels was if the relationship between Surreal and Jaenelle Angelline was destroyed. And this book just strengthens it, every single interaction between them made me cry tears of joy. Witch made sure she wasn't something between Surreal's family, but something that could bring it together. Even then, she gives Surreal the choice to leave if she didn't feel like that's enough, if she didn't feel like she's being done right and she'll not be judged if she decides to leave. And Surreal doesn't leave, after all this is her family and her love, why would she give up everything when she can have a nice relationship with Daemon the rest of his life (like literally, he promised), be with friends and family? Why would she choose loneliness? Some of us even thought that she would commit suicide, or die or be written off, but why? That would be the bad choice from Anne Bishop. That is the ending villains get, actual characters we're supposed to hate. Our heros learn their lessons and find happiness in their own way, isn't it? And that's how I know that Surreal and Saeti are treasured characters just like everyone else, they're just the catalysts, the things that make the story move forward and they're important.

And oh Daemon and Surreal.... I think I can not put into words how much I love these two. Together and separate. Before coming to this book, I thought that the events would drive them apart. It doesn't happen, they actually have never been this love dovey in any other books! Not even when Jaenelle Saetien goes against Surreal, not even when Daemon is told he'd have to kill JS. They were always there for each other, from discovering all the atrocities being done in Dhemlam to parting ways from their daughter.  And mostly important, something that bothered me and others in the last book, HE comes for her, he never dismisses her, acknowledges all her grievances stays by her side and respects all their boundaries. After all wasn't that exactly what they were for each other back in the first book when they still lived in Terreille? Friends, true partners. It's a beautiful love story honestly, from the very first book they have a beautiful love story. I feel like everyone always sees their love story as beginning in Twilight's Dawn, but after countless rereads of the entire series, I know their love story has been told little by little since the first book. Paralleling and intertwined with Daemon's love with Jaenelle Angelline but always there, and The Queen's Weapons just reinforces this. It's not your easy rom-com romance, this is a love story that goes beyond husband and wife and that makes it even more special. The same way Daemon and Jaenelle's love story goes beyond life and death. I love these two, I love what Anne Bishop built with them, I have never found a couple I adored this much in any piece of media, romance or not, that equals the strength that exists here. It's unparalleled and I would choose to go through it all again.

Some people finished the book thinking they're going to live a separate life but that's not what's is implied at all. Surreal talks about and is involved in the school at the Hall, she specifically talks about the tutors joining the family table for dinner, and she's involved in the organization of the students house settling like choosing their dorms and all. She's clearly involved, she's not going anywhere people lol. I think everyone interpreted that way because of her conversation with Jaenelle, she metions getting a house away from Daemon. But I saw it as a direct response to her knowing that he'll die sooner than she thought and before her. He's a constant on her life, the person she trusts the most and is mostly familiar with since always. She'll have to eventually learn how to live without him, get used to the idea so it doesn't happen like Saetan or Rainier whom she lost suddenly.

Wich brings me back to her broken motherly bond with Jaenelle Saetien. I think people are misinterpreting that as well. Do you honestly think she stopped loving her daughter? Is that what you actually read? Did she not cry because her daughter words hurt, and because Jaenelle Saetien was being blind to her mistakes, like a mother does? Did she not cry when she found out that Jaenelle Saetien was going to be executed? Was she not scared of whatever punishment Witch put over JS? Didn't she care for Jaenelle Satien's body all the days she was stuck in the Briarwood nightmare, like a mother? Didn't she, after all that happened, welcome Jaenelle Saetien to the sanctuary she founded because she thought it would be a good way for the girl to overcome her mistakes and the things she saw at Briarwood, the same way it was for herself?? Are none of these motherly actions? Is this what someone that never cared for that role, for the child would do? Isn't it unfair to say their relationship was shallow, fake? Because that's not what I read. She gives up the title of Mother yes, because that's what Jaenelle Saetien wants, and she knows she'll regret. She tells Daemon exactly that, Jaenelle Saetien will regret judging her mother because that's what she did with Titian, and she regrets it. Doesn't she talk specifically about how similar they are? She'll never stop loving her like a mother, never stop caring.

That is exactly what Daemon's says on his last interaction with Jaenelle Saetien at the end of the book when he says that yes they can exchange letters, he'll never stop caring for her even if she decides to distance herself. And oh my god in this part I ugly cried like never before, it wasn't tears while reading it was full on bawling, I actually had to put my phone (yay expensive ebook gang!!) away. The Black Jewels is very comforting because to me and a lot of the other fans it touches on scars and helps heal them. Maybe that's why I can't see the wrongs people are seeing in this one. But this moment was a treasure to me, absolutely special.

And oh Daemon... Can we ever love you any less?? Do we love you too much?? Will we have to, like Surreal, start to brace ourselves to let go of you because your time is coming? Will you, like your father leave us with only the memories of the love we had for you? Are we ever going to find comfort elsewhere or are you truly the perfect hero?

I never liked male protagonists. I would actually avoid them at all costs. Maybe if I never had come into The Black Jewels thinking it was a story about Jaenelle and Daemon would solely be her tag along, I wouldn't be able to like him as much as I do now. Everyday I get impressed on how much of a perfect fantasy he is from beginning to end. On the facebook group we get posts about actors people think could have his face, we go from radom male models, to the newest (and best imo) addition Rege-Jean Page, to people who refuse to give him a face because no real beauty would suit him. A perfect fantasy inside and out of the book. Before coming into this I thought this book would finally spoil Daemon for me. In my last review I said I didn't want him to regress into who he was at the Trilogy, a messy, lost, purposeless man who lived to chase something he thought was lost. And that's not what he gets, if not he learns once again that he has to stay and be connected to the living, pass on his knowledge, take care of the realm and love his family until his body can't stay alive anymore. Different from his father that spent centuries locked out in hell, who lost a son (Peyton, the favorite before Daemon came along) to Dorothea and Hekatah's interferences. He refuses to give up on Jaenelle Saetien, I don't know if the parallels between Peyton and her were intentional, but they're certainly there. It's such a simple lesson for him that it makes me wonder if being simple is exactly what makes Daemon as a character so good. I KNOW this is not the end to The Black Jewels, because we'll have to see Daemon's final moments. And I'm honestly not sad, like him I don't want to rush that moment, but I know it will be a beautiful ending to a beautiful journey and I'll happily wait.

To end this infinite wall of text. Zoey is a nice addition and brings representation to a series that had almost none. I love her relationship with Titian, I think they'll grow up well and there's a lot of world and lore exploration that could be done with this so I'd like to see them in the future. Daemonar is like Lucivar the voice of reason, I don't like him as much as I like Lucivar but Anne Bishop clearly has plans for him (as said in Tersa's vision) so we'll see what's going to come. In the last book I felt like Lucivar was a bit tossed to the side as well, but I'm happy in this one he and Daemonar could get closer to Witch, but then again it's just the character essence, he's simply not prone to drama so it's hard to not get overshadowed by everything else going on. Marian is surprisingly always funny, I did thought she'd get a bit more scenes, but it's nothing really important or that hindered my enjoyment.

I feel like this book required a lot of maturity to deal with expectations and attachments to characters, from the author and from the readers. And I'm pleased with the results, messing with your characters happy endings and still coming out with a good story that reinforces the thematic outline of the entire series, calls back and resolves past issues and events and delivers even more interesting characters is not an easy task, you have to be a brave author to face the fact your reader might have different interpretations that'll result in them disliking your book. And to me Anne Bishop dealt with this perfectly, I feared I was going to be manipulated into a story and that's not how I came out of it all, despite already judging the story badly from spoilers and early reviews. I came to this book expecting to hate it and say goodbye to the series. She convinced me to fall in love with the Black Jewels again, after 11 books nonetheless!!!! This is no easy task at all, it requires a lot of skill. I admire her work a lot. If you've been saddened and disappointed by either The Twilight's Dawn or The Queen's Weapon give this book a chance. A fair one, read it for what it is and not what you idealize it to be. You'll catch yourself feeling very similarly to when you first read Daughter of the Blood, whatever that might mean to you personally.

Anyway, this book was ridiculously long for a Black Jewels book, so this review is ridiculously long as well, also I paid R$100 on this so I'll write a wall of text if I want to. I actually ended up liking that it was long, it had space for the necessary scenes to happen in a well told way, so I'm not complaining. Except for the Scelties, I hate them, have always hated them and will forever hate them. (I'm zoophobic animals as pets is not a reality to me they're just beasts, but I guess they're cute ones lol)

See y'all in the next one 😘 (or in the comments section, or in the next reread idk)

[nightmaretyrantvantas]

To get back what you’ve lost, even if its by force/Lets bring hell to their damn doorstep boys.

a little dark side au story not directly being a sequel to my other angst story for this au~

This is Roceit with some hints at previous Demus and Princexiety and some soft hints at platonic Loceit, and it also includes a few of my own headcanoned dark sides( that im going to try to make more content for!)

Things had been...ok for the light sides once Deciet got full settled into his new role. ‘ Self preservation’ Logan had referred to him with a calm understanding and a welcoming title. And though some things hurt for Deceit to leave behind, he began to embrace this new style of living slowly but surely with the others, especially one certain musical prince whose smile made him admittedly swoon. 

Yes Deceit would admit to himself that Roman Sanders had captured his affections, though sometimes he almost couldnt let himself believe it. Just as he almost couldnt believe the new golden and purple room he woke up in each day or the new clothes Patton and Roman had excitedly provided him.

“ It’ll look great on you Dee! I designed them myself!”

“ Its definitely a very stylin new look kiddo! And besides, you deserve some welcoming presents!” He had offered a small smile and taken the clothes with a nod, slipping back into his new room to continue settling it and redecorating it to his preference. 

Though during the next video he hesitantly appeared, relaxing when he was greeted warmly by everyone. Roman had excitedly showed off his new updated outfit and Deceit took a deep breath.

“ I well...I also had a small idea to ‘change things up’ but, you guys wouldnt like it...” His tongue flickered out briefly.

“ Aw cmon Dee dont say that! You know no matter what it is we’ll like it!”

“ But, if it makes you more comfortable, we will not push you to share.” He looked at Thomas who smiled encouragingly and let down another wall, revealing the outfit he’d put together to officially start his new life here. 

After that they had gotten closer, much closer as time went on. Deceit could almost, almost forget what and who he had left in the shadowy halls he once called home. But not completely, never completely...

He jumped when Roman placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, making him look up into loving crimson eyes. The taller side leaned down and kisses his scaled cheek as he invited Deceit to join him and the others into the living room for a movie marathon, and as their hands interlocked he couldnt have been happier...

“ aaaaaaaaaargh!!!!” 

Elsewhere there was a thud and a clatter as a glass shattered against the dark wall. The one whose head it broke mere inches from didnt flinch, even as one of the shards left a bloody cut in his cheek, bright pink eyes bored. 

“ Virgil if you keep breaking silverware we wont have any left.” He spoke in a  annoyed, uncaring voice as he wiped the blood from his skin. Virgil snarled at him in response, his eyes glowing purple and green and glowing strings tightly scattered all over the room like an intricate spiderweb. They all pulsed with a livid light, and illuminated the living room in a eerie purple cast. The others in the room had decidedly kept quiet for the time being, none of them willing to approach their furious leader having a meltdown. Though one scoffed and rolled his bright orange eyes sneering.

“ Could you throw any worse of a fucking tantrum Virgy?” Angry eyes narrowed in on him so fast with a disturbing head snap that he stiffened, feeling more strings lace around him.

“ What. did. you. say. Wrath.” The words were low and hissed, balancing into demonic sounding and he smartly shut up, backing down with a muttered “ Nothing Anxiety....Nothing at all....” Virgil growled and went back to his seethed pacing, his hood making it so only his glowing eyes were visible above his mouth. Neither Wrath nor Arrogance dared move closer, watching him pace in the middle of his web. Remus was nowhere in sight, having locked himself in his room for the past few weeks now to brood. Arrogance sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose irritated. Remus and him had been moody and snappish ever since Deceit had chosen the light sides, chosen Roman and the others over them weeks ago. And Arrogance, Aaron for short, was getting rather pissy himself about needing to walking on fucking eggshells every time he left his room. Wrath was getting angry too, no surprise there, but this was utter bullshit to him. And to Wrath, there was a simple solution. 

At least he considered it simple as his gaze drifted to the dolls tangled in the air in strings. His eyes snagged on the light blue coded Patton doll before he looked towards the other ones, like Logan’s and Roman’s trapped toys. Now however there was another in the center of his lines, a peculiar doll with a carefully, intricately designed scaled side of his face and a small velvet cape wrapped in purple. 

Finally he couldnt take it anymore and stood up from his seat, ignoring the way he himself began to get tangled. 

“ Oh for fucks sake Virgil youre getting on my nerves with this! If youre so pissy that he’s over there then just fucking bring him back already and quit your damn hissy fit!” There was silence as the two stared each other down.

“ Just...take him back huh?” 

All eyes turned towards the doorway where Remus stood, twitchy and eyes glowing. Admittedly it made Jacob nervous, Remus sounded calm and collected...something that didnt bode well with his twitching demeanor and intense stare. 

“ Can we just do that...bring Dee back home?” Virgil looked down and began pacing again, though his posture was no longer hunched and aggressive. Instead now it was straight backed and more composed. He let out a hum and they all watched him quietly as he went around, his hand reaching out and grasping the Roman doll and holding it in his grip, in an almost caring and tender way. Memories fluttered across his mind and disappeared once more, filled with visions of the new couple’s happiness...

Take him back...

“ Yes...why didnt I think of that sooner? Oh Wrath...no, Des youre brilliant when youre not mindlessly aggravated...” A twisted smile curled upon Anxiety’s lips as he gazed at the doll then looked at Deceit’s, reaching his other hand out to graze his fingers along the yellow coded doll’s cheek. 

“ I know exactly what will tempt them onward...and then I will bring him back...no, we’ll bring him back.” He looked over his shoulder at Remus, locking eyes with him as a wide crazed grin grew on Remus’s face, his pupils seeming to dilate dangerously. “ Wont we Remus?” 

“ Oh fuck yes I cant wait!!!” He tightened his grip on the doll in his hand and looked down at it with a betrayed, angry sneer.

“ Lets bring some chaos and hell to their little doors shall we boys?” 

Deceit shuddered as he got a sudden chill, making him glance around his room as he sat up. Something felt wrong to him, something he couldnt place. But nothing was wrong. The dark sides had been quiet for a few weeks now, and Thomas had only had small controlled bouts of anxiety that was easy to soothe and he had been happy and even a little more carefree than normal. Things were fine between himself and the other sides, great even when it came to his relationship with Roman. Roman...

Deceit couldn’t help the soft, dopey smile that crossed his face at the thought of the creative side. He had been nothing but kinda and affectionate since they began dating, and every day he saw him was another day Deceit felt he was on cloud 9. But he shook his head and refocused on the problem at hand, pulling on his beanie and jacket as he stepped out of his room. Nothing seemed off or even out of place. 

“ Maybe...I’m just imaging things...” He shook his head again and pulled his jacket closer to him to warm up. He decided to head for the living room, that maybe being around the others would get rid of this feeling. So he made his way, furrowing his brows at how...dim the lights seemed now. Had he been in his room longer than he thought? ‘ No...no I couldnt have been...Patton would have called me down for dinner and he hasnt yet...’ His pace quickened as he spotted the stairs and the light glowing from the bottom of them. Deceit’s body relaxed a little at the warm glow and a smile reappeared on his face.

And it quickly dropped into a worried frown as he went down the stairs and found himself back at the end of the hallway. 

He stopped and looked around confused, his surroundings not clicking in his mind. He should’ve been in the living room now. But he gazed at the hallway dotted with their bedroom doors and the stairs at the very end, warm cheerful glow still coming from the bottom. So he simply walked the hallway and hurried down the stairs again...

...only to end up back at the start of the hallway, again. 

“ What the hell...” He looked around again, this time with a pit of dread forming in his stomach. Something wasnt right. 

Why couldnt he leave the damn hallway?

He tried taking a deep breath to collect his thoughts, a tip Logan had given him in the case he ever got too upset to focus. Once he was calmer he walked slower towards the stairs. Not many sides could do something like this, and it definitely wouldnt be some kind of pranks the others would pull on him...

“ Remus I swear to god if youre doing this please cut it out!” He called into the hallway, eyes searching for any hints of the wild side. Deceit knew he loved edgier pranks, and scaring him with a prank of a ever repeating hallway in isolation felt just up his alley of thinking. He couldnt help but let out an exasperated sigh, anger fading. He couldnt stay that mad at the Remus if he was pulling a cruel prank. Honestly any reestablished contact with the other wouldve been...nice.

Deceit missed his friend, and maybe this would be his chance to heal the wounds he mightve caused by leaving and rekindle the friendship. He chuckled to himself as he stopped at the stairs.

“ Jeez....I guess Pat’s soft side is rubbing off on my more than I thought...” With that he headed down the stairs and shook his head at the beginning of the hallway.

“ Cmon Rem! I know youre probably pissy at me...and you know what? I dont blame you.” He started walking again, looking around him with a pleading look. “ But please, just come out and lets try talking again ok? Like we used to? We can spread out in my room and hell, I’ll even give you the bed spot you always fight for. Just...lets cut out the game now ok?” He got nothing but silence as an answer, and he paused.

Silence was something that was not Remus’s style, prank or not. And now his guard was up faster than a gunshot.

“....Remus? Are you there?” He looked around again, getting more and more uneasy at the silence and started walking again.

“ Arrogance if this is your idea of a joke it isnt funny! Cut your shit.” No response and once again he was back where he started. Now he was getting angry, and even a little afraid. 

It wasnt Remus, because Remus couldnt handle this kind of silence for this long even for a joke, especially when he was called out.

Arrogance wasnt one to pass up taunting his inability to escape, and on top of that he wasnt really one for pranks either. When Remus called him a stick in the mud...he wasnt exactly wrong. 

And Wrath didn’t have the patience for this kind of thing. 

His walk this time was slower and more cautious, this time when he glanced around his eyes darted to dark corners too. The pit in his stomach grew and worsened as he made it to the stairs again and looked down them. He could even see the damn landing, washed in light. He hurried down again and almost yelled in frustration as he ended up at the beginning again. It took everything in him not to freak out.

“ Patton!?” No answer.

“ Logan??! Can you hear me??” No response.

“ R-roman!!!!” Nothing. 

No he was starting to panic, but he forced himself not to let it consume him. That feeling felt too familiar and he ran down the hallway.

“ Virgil if this is you’re doing stop it!! This isnt funny!!” Still no response and he repeated the loop a few more times. He opeed his bedroom door and saw it was just as he left it, but simply staying in there now almost felt...bad, like he’d been cornering himself. And trying the others doors did nothing, because either they were uncommonly locked or simply wouldnt budge. His breath hitched and hissed through his teeth faster as he run down again, this time tripping and hitting the carpeted floor with a dull thud. 

“ owwwowowowowwww....” He pushed himself onto his knees, eyes squinting in pain and a little dazed. For a moment he thought he saw a tall figure blocking the stair’s light and he shot up to his feet, groaning in absolute frustration when no one was there. He took a few steps and stopped, looking down at the floor when his foot stepped on something. One the floor was Roman’s crimson sash, and with gentle hands he picked it up and held it tenderly. The soft scent that drifted off it relaxed him, and made him smile as he looked down at it, rubbing the fabric between his fingers. Looking at it he finally took another deep breath and tried thinking more clearly, his eyes shutting briefly. 

But because his eyes were shut he didnt notice purple glowing strings drip from the corners and behind him, silently creeping closer and surrounding him. When he finally opened his eyes and noticed the glow his eyes went wide in fear and the sound of footsteps on the stairs made him whip around. Though he only had time to partially shout as strings wrapped around him firmly and entangled him to the point he could barely fight back, strings around his through silencing his voice. He looked up at the hooded figure gripping and manipulating the strings like a puppet player, a cruel evil smirk on his face as his eyes glowed. 

“Well well now Deceit. You really shouldve know better...” The world began to darken and he felt Roman’s sash slip out of his fingers vaguely noticing his beanie fall off his head when he was moved closer to Virgil. Virgil’s eyes narrowed and his smirk widened as Deceit’s eyes began to fell shut, nothing but purple in his fading vision.

“ You really shouldn’t have tried to leave.” 

There was nothing but silence upstairs as Patton, dusting off his polo in a small huff from dealing with Arrogance and Remus making a chaotic mess in the living room before leaving as suddenly as they appeared, walked to the stairs landing and looked up to the dark hallway.

“ Dee! Kiddo dinner is ready! Come on down we dont want to start without you!” His head tilted and his brows furrowed in concern when he got no answer, his voice drifting and echoing around the hallway.

“ Kiddo? Can you hear me up there? You ok?” He put his foot on the first step as his voice echoed again.

“ Deceit?”

And echoed right over the old red silk sash and dark grey beanie that lay in the middle of the carpet, not a person nor side in sight.

Tadaa! Thats the end(for now) I hope you guys like it!!

Taglist

@phantommoonpeople @sweetsweetemo @leesacrakon @amazable01

@sugarglider9603 im tagging you in this so you could maybe ready it! I hope you like it and the angst!

[goldwarriorprincess]

Webs

I always said I would never use drugs or alcohol, at family gatherings the adults always drank and everyone seemed happy so I grew up thinking alcohol makes you happy, still I did not do it. As kid and a teenager I went through many emotions and some trauma , I grew up a Jehovah’s Witness and though I did care for them and love god a lot of there ways I did not understand or was very hard for me to do. I had the feelings of bi sexuality as well but had never did the a woman relationship thing, needless to say I left the religion, I had my experience with some women and I finally discovered drugs and alcohol, I did not realize I was suffering from depression now diagnosed with bi polar disorder,  the drugs and alcohol made all the pain from the past go away, so I thought, little did I know I would be lead down into a downward spiral, my life was filled of lies and webs some I could never untangle. I won’t go to the war stories just yet, however I will say after many failed relationships, programs and rehabs 20 yrs later at 41 I got sober and have been sober for 3 yrs, by the grace of god and it’s been a good 3yrs bumpy at times but good, I came a cross a wonderful AA group who have loved and supported and have become my family. I have also been a rainbows and unicorns type of person, I love dance and sing and write, and especially now its the little things that I realized I really love, sobriety has been a blessing. In the first year I was blissfully happy because I finally understood what I needed to do. As people that suffer with addiction know that we are encouraged to get a sponsor, well in my blissfully happy state I found a sponsor who was amazing to me, she was everything AA, she had quality sobriety, she was very active in sobriety and happy and excited about it and I had never seen that in all the programs I was in, I never felt apart of , but this group and this person was different and it felt right. I was caught up in a blissful web of being very involved in AA and helping other, and she became my sponsor and really helped me and guided me in the right directions and was there for me in every step of the way. However even though I was sober and happy I still had my own webs that needed clearing and that would take time to heal and work out the right way, but being me and not realizing the pink cloud of new sobriety, I still had some of my old ways especially the struggle that I have had with co dependency I always pick the wrong people for me even some were really great people. So what happen part of me being tired of men wanted to explore being with a woman and I chose my sponsor who is gay, I had a fever for her all I wanted was her and I was happy and in the clouds with her, a part of his thought this is a bad idea but we like the thrill of it and that the  people in the rooms did not know. But with all things the fever died a little however we came to love each other very much we have been together since I was 5 months sober, we have alot of fun together, and experienced some good some bad, if I continue the story I will definitely go into more details of my life which will be rough but it’s webs I need to clear. Today I find myself in the unique position where from the beginning she never wanted anyone to know about our relationship, however I come from the old school where when you meet someone and you decided to be in a relationship you become a couple, she had stifled me and has strongly let me know for a long time that we are not together when it comes to our AA group, I was ok with it for some time, however it has come to point now that I have matured in sobriety and with myself that I want to be a couple and I don’t understand why you must let people know that we are best friends, she says she does not need to be defined with my, does that make sense? I don’t want I want to be proud that we are together, everyone knows she is gay it doesn’t have to be said she is but everyone knows. Now that I have matured in sobriety, have my own place have a job I love etc. I want to be with someone who will love me for me and not be ashamed to express that we are together, or want to build a future, another thing in which she lacks a lot of ambition and just life in general which has not been easy for me, I find myself wondering if this experience should just stay and experience and I should move on, I know a part of me misses being with a man, hold his hand or him hugging me in public something we don’t do, i’m tired and i’m still co- dependent I don’t want to loose her it makes so so so sad and I cry at the idea, I don’t want this to affect our sobriety, however the other day in AA share, I shared a story and I referenced her as my partner that was a bad move and she is now very upset with me because she did not want anyone to know about us in that way, yet we are together for 2 and half years and go to meeting together all the time, people are not stupid besides that they love and care for us no matter what, but this situation has created tangled webs of emotions I do not know how to untangle or get out of, I know I won’t drink but like they say it is an arms length away, I down want to wash my webs away with poison which is what alcohol is to me. I welcome feed back and perhaps i will share my story in full, I believe it will help and encourage anyone who reads this.

[pro-bee]

“Ziva, sometimes people do the wrong things for the right reasons.” “People always think their own reasons are right. Especially parents.” “Yeah, they got perspective.” “Parents don’t make mistakes!”  “Yeah.” “My mother never told me what kind of a man my father was. Perhaps she thought I was not strong enough to handle it.” “Nah, she was just being a mom.” “How do you know?” “Perspective.” “Are you lonely Gibbs?” “You’re never alone when you have kids. ‘Night, kid.”

God, this is one of my favourite scenes of the series, and I think recent developments give it new depth because this conversation has kind of come full circle.

I love it because this moment, right here, is the Ziva-Gibbs relationship in a nutshell. 

[very long post with lots of feelings under the cut]

You’ve got Ziva frustrated at the tangled webs people weave to protect their families, even when it ultimately ends up unraveling one giant mess.

The whole episode, Ziva’s interactions with Mariam are fraught with both compassion and frustration. She feels a sort of kindred spirit in Mariam, trying to survive a conflict with no winner but only losers while escaping with some sort of humanity. Yet she’s also deeply frustrated, because Ziva is tired of this shit and particularly the kind of shit men will put the women in their lives through in the name of honour, and she has trouble seeing why any woman would stand by it when they can clearly see they are in the wrong.

It’s one of the most interesting aspects of Ziva’s character to me, one which I wish they would have explored more in the series, because she’s a bit of a dichotomy. She’s clearly deeply entrenched in the system her father raised her in, but she also is compassionate towards the very people she was probably trained to mistrust, knowing that at the end of the day, they’re all after the same thing -- a peaceful existence where they are free to be who they are. It’s a nuanced view that isn’t always given the chance to breathe in the media. 

But, here she is having just finished a case where someone -- a woman --  has once again covered up for the misdeeds of the men in her life, because she tried to protect them. Which gets her thinking about her own mother, who she now realizes covered up the things Eli did from her as a child so she could grow up with a father she could trust and love, even if we know now and Ziva would learn as a young adult that he did not deserve it. 

We don’t know what happened to her mom (other than Ziva says she was killed, like Tali and Ari), but we can probably infer that she went to her grave trying to protect Ziva from Eli’s exploits.

(Now I’m wondering if Tali and their mom were killed in the same event?)

She’s still reeling from the fallout of Somalia two years earlier, of cutting her father out of her life, of trying to figure out if she’s able to forgive him, look past what he put her through and put other people through, if she can find a place in her heart for him the way Mariam has for her son and husband even if they’ve committed atrocious acts.

And that is where Gibbs comes in: That it doesn’t make Ziva weak that her mom didn’t share any of this with her, one which she had to find out herself the hard way. It’s that her mother loved her so much that she wanted to shield her from that part of their lives, let her keep her innocence for as long as possible so that she could live in a world where her father wasn’t capable of heinous acts in the name of “duty”, because he was still her father and she needed that presence in her life, such as it was.

As we know now, Ziva seems to have grown up thinking that being strength = taking things and moving on. But we know that true strength, one which Mariam shows and arguably Ziva’s mother did, is being able to accept those parts of your life and still maintain your humanity and decency.

Then that flips to the Ziva-Gibbs relationship, because she has a moment of honesty with him, asking if he’s lonely. With Borin he brushes it off, but with Ziva, he offers his truth as he knows it. “You’re never lonely when you have kids.” Is it a delusion he tells himself? Perhaps, but in that very moment, I believe that he believes it, completely. Because he cares for these people, the same ones who have spent the entire week trying to set him up with someone specifically because they care for him and don’t want him to be alone. 

But more than that, when he tells her, “’Night, kid,” he’s not just teasing her about being one of the “office kids” who he looks over and takes under his wing. Coming off the discussion about the parents, he’s also telling her that he’s watching over her here the way her father couldn’t. That he sees her heart, the way she cared for Mariam and her family, and he knows where she belongs. He’s reminding her that she is part of a family here, one that may have had its own share of secrets to protect one another, but caring nonetheless. He’s acknowledging the love he has for them (and her) as much as the love they have (and she has)  for him. 

What really gets me, though, watching this now after season 17, especially these last two episodes, is how much their relationship has come full circle. We went from them being his “kids” to Ziva fighting for “her family” in the season 10 finale, to all the heartache between season 11-16, to the bitterness of season 17, and back to their father-daughter relationship.

Because now that Ziva is a parent herself, she has that perspective that Gibbs is talking about.

She, too, has now done the wrong things for what she believed were the right reasons. 

(Ahem, keeping Tali from Tony. Faking her death. Acting alone to fight terrorists. etc.)

And now, of course, with her perspective, she can see why Gibbs did or didn’t do the things he did, the same way she can probably now better understand why her own mother did what she did when she was a child.

(Except Eli. Eli is still the worst. In this house we drag Eli David.)

She has done things as a mom that have been painful and impossible but necessary, the way Mariam did or Gibbs did or her own parents did.

Yet another thing that I love about it is how it comes around for Gibbs, too. He wasn’t lonely here, he claims, because he had the love of his family, his “kids”. Admittedly I have only seen a few episodes between season 14-16, but the few that I have seen, what has stood out to me is just how lonely and isolated Gibbs has become. (I never saw the Paraguay arc, but I take it that messed him up a lot?)

Arguably, he’d lost his “kids.” Ziva was “dead,” Tony was gone, Abby left, McGee was around but now busy with his own family. (Of the newbies, Ellie is the only team member with a normal family so she doesn’t need the surrogate parent in Gibbs, and Torres, well, I don’t know enough about him but he’s got a whole other kind of personality and doesn’t seem to crave that parental bond the way the others do, and Kasie keeps herself a bit at a distance.)

And, yeah, obviously “kids” grow up and move on, but the episodes I’ve seen, it does seem that Gibbs holds himself back at a distance even further than he used to. (I remember in one of Ellie’s episodes in season 11, Gibbs essentially told her that he went easy on her and held back because every time he looked at her desk all he could see was that Ziva wasn’t there.) He has grown older and colder, at all-time peak aloof, save for rare moments. He just seems sad. (Like, not obviously grief-stricken, just... worn out.)

But then in these latest Ziva episodes, we’ve seen him more animated than we have in a long time. He’s laughed and yelled and choked up and smiled. Because something has finally clicked back into place. And it’s not just that Ziva is back, although that is a huge part of it, but it’s like this black cloud that has hung over them has lifted. The guilt and the grief have dissipated. The missing piece of the puzzle has been put into place. And even if Ziva isn’t actually around full-time, knowing she’s out there is comforting. 

And mending that relationship with her is a big part of that. Because Ziva was “the favourite”. I mean, I know Abby was, technically, but he had different relationships with them. Abby’s was a parent-child one, too, because she too was a girl who’d lost her parents, but she’s so sunny and self-assured that I think theirs was more one of comfort. However, with Ziva, I think he recognized immediately how vulnerable she was, how emotionally fragile she was beneath the bravado, and that she was a girl from a broken home who’d never really been protected, and was now making her way in the world without having learned the safety of her father’s love. Plus you add the shared combat experience between them, and the connection makes even more sense. If you think that she left under the most contentious of circumstances, then (nearly) met a tragic end, you can see why that guilt would have weighed down those memories of Gibbs’ even more than Abby’s, who left of her own volition to follow her own dreams. (lol let’s not get into the off-screen reasons.)

I digress.

What I’m trying to say is that now that Gibbs and Ziva are back in each other’s lives, and have laid their cards on the table and confessed their hurt and in turn forgiven each other for it, they have reached a new stage of their relationship. That they both have new perspective. That Ziva understands what her mother did, but also what Gibbs did. And Gibbs tried to protect Ziva then like he has now, but understands better what that actually means for her and what she needs. (Ah, communication, what a concept.)

So they’ve both done very wrong things for what they thought were their own right reasons.

He won’t be lonely anymore, because he’s got his kids back, and his almost-daughter most of all. He’s not going to let her go anymore than she will him.

And on another note: That puts Ziva’s comment in 17x02 about how she was never alone, even on the run, because she always had her daughter, into relief. Because, yeah, she was alone while Tali was with Tony, but she carried Tali in her memories and in her heart, and that was her guiding light throughout this whole ordeal. So Gibbs was right, you never are alone when you have kids. And Ziva will never be alone ever again.

[k-p-p-d]

From Zero (M)

Summary: When building an empire, start from ground zero.

Warnings: mentions of/allusions to sex work/brothels, body modification, past abusive relationships, homicide, fight clubs, illegal bookkeeping, assassination, grieving, assault, robbery, hacking/invasion of privacy, L** S**nghy*n (had to be included as he is one of the main antagonists in the series)

Length: 15.5k

A/N: This has been in the making for years now, my word.  But it feels so good to finally release it to you all.  There’s a lot of tragedy befalling several of our versions of these absolute angels, so take care of yourself when reading.  Please look at the profiles for each of the members as a sort of refresher/preview to their individual backgrounds and why they come to join XX.  I know the tags seem pretty serious and heavy, but I tried to write this in such a way to where there was a balance between subtly and directness when it came to the hard parts so you would have visceral reactions but not necessarily be overwhelmed by them.  Still, take your time reading or skip this altogether— just do whatever you feel is best for you.  I love each of you as much as I love each of the boys. —Admin Lily

——————

Previously...

——————

“What are you running from?” a deep voice purred from beside him.

Kihyun stiffened at the abrupt accusation, shifting slightly in his chair to toss a cutting side eye at his accuser. “Who says I’m running?”

“You do: You can barely keep your eyes on me, which is automatically a red flag considering I am easily one of the most beautiful people you have ever seen—“

“That’s mighty cocky of you.”

“Deny it. You can’t. Anyway, you keep clenching and unclenching your fists, then slowly wiping one or the other on this very expensive velvet in an attempt to pass off drying your sweaty palms as just enjoying the tactile pleasure this fabric can bring. You haven’t touched your drink yet—which is shameful and in poor taste considering Hyeri has a gift when it comes to cocktails—and it’s blatantly obvious you would literally rather be anywhere but here, despite all the lovely company you could keep. So...what are you running from?”

“I’m not running from anything.”

“Then someone?”

Wonho smirked as Kihyun unconsciously shifted away from him, his eyes widening only a hair before narrowing slightly in suspicion. “I’m not running from anyone either,” Kihyun flatly denied.

Wonho couldn’t help but to loudly laugh, head thrown back and cheeks flushed as bright peals of laughter effortlessly punched through the thick air causing all eyes to turn toward him. At least all the eyes that weren’t already on him. “I needed that laugh, thank you,” he chuckled breathily, miming wiping away nonexistent tears from his observant eyes. “Honestly, if I didn’t know you so well, I might have believed you,”

Kihyun’s expression hardened immediately. “You don’t know me at all,” he snapped through clenched teeth.

Another smirk tugged at Wonho’s lips, this one less amused and far more devious than the other cared for. “But I do.” He gently wrapped his fingers around the tense man’s wrist before firmly yanking him up to stand as he himself gracefully rose from the armrest on which he’d been perched. “Come with me,” he hummed as he began to pull Kihyun along with him, the command simple and clear despite the soft tone he’d used.

Kihyun dug his heels into the floor as best he could. “I’m not going anywhere with you,” he growled.

“Don’t worry,” Wonho giggled, slipping his fingers down from Kihyun’s slender wrist—fingertips brushing along the tiny scar as they moved—to tightly interlace themselves with Kihyun’s fingers, “I’m fully booked tonight so this one is free of charge.” He squeezed his knuckles against the other’s and tugged once, effectively pulling the man closer to himself and shaking him off-balance enough that Kihyun had no choice except to follow behind for a few steps if he wanted to keep from falling face first. And at that point, balance finally regained, Kihyun huffed heavily in defeat and followed along compliantly.  There was no sense in playing tug-of-war with the annoyingly persistent, presumptuous man.

Wonho led them up the stairs to his own personal wing.  Turning to face the other man so he could better tangle their fingers together, he nudged open the large double doors with his back as he stepped backwards into the lush suite, dragging his prey into his den.  Immediately, they were flooded with pale amber light; Kihyun winced at the sudden change in lighting, despite the lights barely being above half their brightness.  He blinked a couple times to allow his eyes to adjust.  Once he could properly see, he gasped.  Wonho stood before him, same as ever, playful smirk still elegantly curling his plush lips and mischievous eyes still smoldering seductively; yet he was practically glowing.  The gentle lights were bathing his skin with their subtle warmth so as to shroud him in an angelic haze.  He was ’David’ come to life— a living, breathing masterpiece.  Kihyun couldn’t understand why, but suddenly he wanted to possess the man before him, body and soul and everything between.

Wonho continued to lead him further into his lair, and Kihyun could barely take in the beautiful blend of creamy linens, charcoal satins, blush silks, mauve tweeds, and golden accents swirling around them.  The lush decor and cozy coloring made Kihyun feel welcomed, warmed, whole.  It felt like he could properly breathe for the first time in his life.  He was so caught up in the airiness sweeping through his body that he didn’t realize they’d stopped moving until Wonho’s airy giggle floated through his clouded senses.  Kihyun flushed a little from embarrassment.  It wasn’t like him to zone out so completely like that; but he couldn’t help it, he was absolutely enthralled by the ethereal being before him.  

Wonho’s smirk deepened as he trailed his hand up Kihyun’s forearm and along his chest before firmly pushing him back onto the oversized bed.  Kihyun had barely bounced on the plush mattress before the beautiful man was atop him, stealing his breath away once more with his radiance.    Looking up at him, Kihyun felt as if he had just awoken to witness the dawning morning’s warm light delicately slip over the supple flesh belonging to the love of his life.  

Wonho tugged him upward by his collar to sit properly so he could swing a leg over his hips, purposefully keeping himself propped up on his knees to maintain enough space between their bodies.  It’d only be a matter of time until Kihyun was begging him to close the distance.  “Hi there,” he whispered to his enthralled prey, who could only smile dumbly back. Gently grasping the other’s wrist, he delicately ran his thumb along the tiny scar almost everyone aside from Kihyun himself never even knew existed.  “This must be from childhood,” he hummed.

Kihyun gave a noncommittal shrug, careful to keep his tone disinterested so as to not give away the fact his statement was correct, “What makes you think that?”

“I have scars like this from childhood, too.  They’re not quite as small, but they are just as smooth and lack discoloration of any kind.  You might find this very hard to believe,” he grinned, “but no one has ever guessed I had any if I didn’t tell them, even when they’re close enough to see every last hair on my body. And there’s not even much hair to begin with below my neck.”  His warm grin suddenly shifted into a predatory smirk as he purred, “Would you like to see?”

“You said this was on the house,” Kihyun huffed, internally forcing himself not to give into the beguiling man’s whims despite his body’s eager responsiveness to even just the gentlest of his touches.

“It is,” Wonho assured without missing a beat, his thumb tracing small circles along the other’s pulse point, “everything after tonight though...”

Kihyun snorted.  “You’re beautiful, but you’re not my type.”

Wonho shrugged, the least bit put off, his thumb still continuing its absentminded ministrations, “I know. You like your men tall, tanned, handsome, and mysterious. I’m really only two of those things.”  His smirk stretched into a friendly smile, “I’m just glad you’ve given up on lying to me.”

“Yes, well, it seemed a bit rude to lie to you in your home.”

“So you are observant. Very good! I like that in a partner.  You sure you don’t want to try to find my scars?” he teased.

“I’m sure,” Kihyun chuckled. Wonho’s pout at his words, as fake as Kihyun’s composure under his magnetic gaze, quickly caused him to add on, “at least not right now.”

“Well, in that case...” His voice trailed off as he slid his fingers from around the other’s slender wrist to march them up his  forearm, toward the base of his neck, before halting abruptly at the sharp corners of the collar of his dress shirt.  Leveling his most smoldering gaze at the man caught helplessly in his web, he huskily purred, “Let me search for yours.”  Leaning himself forward to crowd into the other’s space until there was barely the space of a breath between them, he tapped the forefinger of one hand at the hollow of Kihyun’s throat while slipping the other around to play with the strands of chestnut hair at the nape of his neck, which was beginning to tilt to the side just so without Kihyun even realizing. Just as Wonho had planned. “Will you let me?” he whispered against slightly parted lips.

“Yes,” came the breathy reply.

Wonho smiled softly, gracefully lowering himself fully onto his prey’s unconsciously proffered lap. Most nights he would have made a quip about whether or not the seat was taken, but he knew he didn’t have the luxury of time to really work his magic—both because he had to attend to a regular in a half hour and because he knew it was only a matter of minutes before Kihyun’s mind kicked back into gear and forced him out of this blissful trance.  No matter, though; Wonho knew exactly where to look.  Ghosting his lips along Kihyun’s razor sharp jawline, he pressed phantom kisses upward onto his cheek, onto his temple, and across his forehead only to begin his descent down the opposite side of his face until his lips hovered over his left ear.  Unable to resist the urge, he toyed with the piercings along the man’s ear with his teeth and tongue before pressing his lips right behind the pierced lobe.  

There it was.

Wonho smiled to himself as he pressed a tender kiss to the barely raised flesh.  Pulling back just enough to line his lips along the curve of Kihyun’s ear, he hummed softly in a teasing yet triumphant breath, “I found it.”

Kihyun’s eyes flew open as panic flooded his system.  He dug his blunted nails into the supple flesh of the other’s firm thighs, earning him merely a giggle in response. “Who are you?” he growled coldly.

Wonho pulled back to look him in his eyes, which were narrowed into the thinnest slits possible yet were still wide enough to allow the fires of fury roaring behind his hardened gaze to be clearly seen.  Wonho’s smile grew wider as he reached down to grab one of the panicked man’s hands before leading it to press firmly against his right hip. “I’m one of his dolls, too.”

Kihyun’s grip only tightened as he hissed, “Who do you work for?”  

Wonho sighed heavily, disappointment clear in his tone as he swiftly pried the other’s hands off him.  “As much as I love being manhandled, I can’t have any bruises on me just yet, babe.”  He surged forward suddenly to press the bewildered yet still furious man beneath him, clamping his own vice-like grip on Kihyun’s wrists before stretching his arms as far above his head as they could go to effectively render him helpless.  “Daddy hates when his baby has a mark from someone else.”  Dipping his head down, he breathed in the softest yet raspiest of whispers one of his own many secrets, “Daddy’s why I’m one of Lee’s little dolls.  See, I had a birthmark on my hip. It wasn’t big by any means, it was actually pretty cute.  I liked it.  But Daddy? Well, he’s very possessive.  I tried to tell him it was just a birthmark, but he didn’t believe me.  He thought someone else had broken me in before him, and that made him very angry.  After all, he paid very good money to be my first proper patron.  So he demanded that Cerise have me—what was the word he used? Oh that’s right—‘decontaminated’ immediately or he’d have no choice but to cancel his membership, which she certainly couldn’t have since that meant she’d have to refund him for every single visit plus his membership fee.  It was fortunate she had the best plastic surgeon in the nation on retainer, don’t you think?  Lee came—not in the fun way—that very same night, took one look at my hip, and immediately set to work to remove my ‘only flaw,’ as he said.  In its stead, he left his calling card, this tiny ‘ㅈ’—too small for even Daddy to see—that forever marks me as his doll. Just like you, Kihyun.”

“I never told you my name,” Kihyun snapped.

Wonho smirked at him, “You didn’t, but you had to tell Cerise and Cerise tells me everything.”

“What does she want from me?”

Wriggling his hips back just enough so he could rest his head on his trapped prey’s chest, he hummed, “She doesn’t want anything but your money from you, don’t worry.  I just find you incredibly intriguing.”

Kihyun huffed a sarcastic “thank you,” earning him a quick bite to the base of his neck with an accompanying sensual, teasing grind against his suddenly very interested dick.  A lethal combination that had him struggling to fight off the immediate haze of lust clouding his senses.  “What do you want from me?” he  growled through clenched teeth.

Leaning up a little to look the other man directly in his eye, Wonho took a moment to carefully consider his own desires, something he’d gotten out of the habit of doing too often over the years.  “You are an exceptionally ambitious man, Kihyun,” he began, “dangerously so.  Your ambition and drive made you some powerful enemies over the years, the ones you’ve been running from since before you were even one of Lee’s dolls.  Yet, it’s also made you some very powerful allies, like the ones you work for now.  But as with all those with great ambition, what you have now will never be enough, no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise.  There will come a time when you will have to decide what your legacy will be.  All I ask is that I’m a part of that legacy.”

A long silence stretched between them as his words settled into the air around them before Kihyun spoke, choosing only to ask simply, “Why?”

“I have ambitions, too.  Maybe not as great as yours, but still greater than anyone else here.  I believe you’re the key to making them happen.  So I’m offering myself and my skills to you. You’ve seen only a fraction of what I can do in our regrettably short time together this evening.  More than that, I know the darkest secrets of the most powerful people in the nation.  I could even tell you some highly classified information that’s been let slip around me in moments of weakness, thanks to the atmosphere of ease and vulnerability I provide. The very same one you fell victim to tonight.  Imagine having an upperhand like that on your side.  There would be nothing and no one standing in your way.  Tempting, isn’t it?” He finally released his grip on the other’s wrists and slid off his lap before extending a hand to Kihyun to help him up off the bed.  

Leading him to his door, Wonho clarified, “You don’t have to give me an answer tonight, or any time soon really.  But just remember...”  Wonho maintained eye contact as he crowded into Kihyun’s space, hands coming up to caress his cheek and slip through his hair so he could pull him closer and closer until his lips were ghosting over the other’s as he spoke, “I know your darkest secrets, too.”  With that, he crashed his lips against Kihyun’s in a passionate, soul-shaking, bruising kiss that left Kihyun feeling both thoroughly devoured yet insatiably hungry for the beguiler when they finally broke apart.  “Do not make me your enemy, Yoo Kihyun,” Wonho rasped in warning before unceremoniously shoving the bewildered man out into the corridor.

Kihyun stumbled a little before finding himself slumped against the wall, breathing heavy as his mind swam with a million different thoughts.  He almost didn’t hear the lighthearted “First time?” tossed in his direction.  He glanced up only to find one of the highest ranking generals in all of the armed forces smirking knowingly at him.  For some reason, the sight of him made his skin crawl as a whisper of jealousy floated across his heart.  Was this the imbecile who had forced the marring of the breathtakingly beautiful man?  Kihyun couldn’t understand why he felt such a possessive urge overtake him, so he forced himself to bow in a customary show of respect as he answered curtly yet somehow politely, “Yes, sir, it was.”

“Ah, he has that effect on people,” the general chuckled.  “Thankfully, I’ve trained my baby boy enough that his stamina could outlast that of even ten of my best men.”  

Kihyun clenched his fists tightly to keep himself from brandishing his switchblade.  Wonho was decidedly not his in any way, yet he just could not shake his need to make this smug swine pay for what he’d done to him.  Slowly straightening up, he let his own smirk pull at his lips, responding mockingly, “Thank you for your service.  I would’ve thanked him for his, too, but he insisted tonight was on the house.  Something about needing a break from old,” he stressed the word heavily, “routine.  Please tell him I’d love to see him again if he gets tired of the usual.”  With that, Kihyun bowed his farewell before turning on his heel to leave before his murderous urges overtook him.

————————————

Hyunwoo was a man of few words, had always been preternaturally quiet as a child.  His mother used to worry that, despite doing her absolute best to be as careful and protective of him as possible, something had happened to him when she had carried him in her womb. She would toss and turn, night after night, wondering why her precious bundle of joy made no noise save for his soft snores when he napped and the tiniest grunts when he wiggled, crawled, or waddled to and fro.  His father, who had written him off as defective, hardly paid any attention to him—too busy trying to convince his mother to have “a redo” to make up for him.  His mother would refuse, argue back that she couldn’t possibly bring another child into this world if she was the cause for her firstborn’s muteness.  “Just let me fix him first,” she had pleaded with tears in her eyes and a rough, urgent edge to her voice. “I have to try.” And so she tried, tried her absolute hardest for the first few years of his life to get him to make some noise, be it a little giggle or coo, even a cry or yell.  Nothing seemed to work.  Pushed to the end of her rope, she held him tighter than normal one night and softly sobbed into his hair, “Mommy is so sorry, baby, so sorry for whatever she did to you when you weren’t here in her arms.  I know you don’t understand me but I just hope some day you can forgive Mommy for hurting you.  She didn’t mean to, and she wishes she could take it back.”

She was wrong. He understood her perfectly.  He always had and always would because he knew her, had been carefully watching her since the day he first opened his eyes.  He might not have known the best words to say to comfort her, but he tried his best as he slipped his little arms around her neck and whispered, “It’s okay, Mommy, you didn’t hurt me. I’m okay so you have to be okay, too.”

Hyunwoo couldn’t forget the look in her eye as she pulled back to stare wide-eyed at him in bewilderment, relief, elation, sadness, pain, and love. He would never forget it because it was the same look she gave him on the night she died… The same night he stumbled into the police station, swollen hands hanging heavy by his side as his knuckles—skin split open enough to show slivers of bone—dripped with blood, a mix of his own and his father’s.  “I need to report a murder,” he had quietly stated.  He hadn’t said much since then, all those weeks ago.  It was a very open-and-shut case, the public defender had told him: Between his confession to beating his father to death after he caught him in the midst of slamming his mother’s head against the floor and the evidence that further supported his confession, there was little left to do but await sentencing.  He didn’t even blink when he was told he was looking at life in prison, maybe even being placed on death row despite the national moratorium.  As far as he was concerned, he died the moment he watched the light fade from his mother’s beautiful brown eyes as he held her cold body in his arms.

So it came as a surprise when a guard—a former fan of his he’d recognized from seeing at a few of his fights—roused him from his sleep the night before his sentencing hearing.  “You have a visitor.”

Hyunwoo slowly rolled himself up onto his feet, wrists awaiting to be shackled once more held out before him.  He followed the guard to an interrogation room. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion as the guard ushered him into the room, instructing him to sit in the steel chair opposite the two-way mirror.  Once seated, the guard deftly did away with the too-small handcuffs with a terse warning of “don’t make me regret this, Son,” before he exited the room leaving a guarded Hyunwoo to scrutinize the mirror.

A few uncomfortably long moments passed until the door finally opened again.  Hyunwoo’s head snapped immediately toward it to find a strange man dressed in a finely tailored suit, the sharp lines of the suit seeming dulled compared to razored edge of his jawline and the sharp lines and angles of his deceptively oval face. Stranger still, despite the fact he had never seen this man before, Hyunwoo felt a weird sense of familiarity with him.  Carefully, he watched as the man gracefully slid into chair directly in front of him.  Another moment passed as the two men simply stared at each other—one with great apprehension, the other with something akin to bemusement—until the strangely familiar man at last opened his mouth to speak.  “You’re still as golden as ever,” he greeted warmly, “내 금은 곰.”

Hyunwoo froze in shock.  There was only one person in the entire world who had ever called him that, someone he had long thought to be dead.  He couldn’t possibly— This man couldn’t possibly be him. But yet...no one else could have possibly known that nickname.  “You—?”

“Yeah,” the man huffed out a laugh as he undid the cuffs on his left sleeve to show his wrist, “me.”

Hyunwoo blinked.  Then blinked again as another long, silent moment stretched between them, his eyes boring heavily into the puckered flesh nestled along the side of his wrist.  That tiny, little jagged scar—barely a couple centimeters long—dragged forth years and years of countless memories of a childhood long-forgotten amidst the chaos of growing up and the pains that came with it.  Hyunwoo flicked his gaze upward to search the man’s face.  His features were...different, not the kind of different that came with puberty but a different kind of different—one that only came at the sharpened edge of surgeon’s scalpel: The nose was too narrow, the cheekbones too high, the chin a bit too pointed, the forehead too small. This wasn’t his best friend’s face at all. But the eyes... Those eyes were still the same.  Gaze always sharp and alert despite the lively flicker of mischief dancing just beneath the depths, yet a tenderness and warmth ever-present if one knew where to look.  Maybe this was an odd request of him to make but fuck it, he reasoned internally as he commanded simply, “Smile.”  

Now it was his visitor’s turn to blink, confusion clear all over his too-foreign face.  “What?”

“Please,” Hyunwoo added gently, “I just...I need to make sure.”  

The man, still clearly confused, acquiesced with a nod of his head and smiled wide.  And there it was:  No matter how exceptional of a job his surgeon had done concealing his identity beneath these new features, he could never get rid of the way his eyes would soften as they collapsed into the thinnest crescent moons this side of a new moon.  Overwhelmed in a flurry of emotion he hadn’t known he could or would ever feel again after everything that’d happened, Hyunwoo lunged across the table to envelop his long-lost friend into the tightest hug he could, the squeeze of his arms mirroring the squeeze of his heart now caught in his throat.  “Kihyun,” he quietly rumbled, voice too raw with emotion to speak at any volume higher than that.

Only disoriented for a brief moment, Kihyun relaxed into the hug with a breathy sigh, his own arms doing their best to wrap around the broad form of his childhood friend.  They stayed locked in their tight embrace for what felt like hours, though it couldn’t have been more than a couple of minutes, before Hyunwoo released him.  Kihyun almost shivered at the sudden loss of warmth that had surrounded him mere seconds ago.  Sitting back down, they continued to stare at each other in a comfortable yet heavy silence.  A vast array of questions floated in the air above them just out of reach, yet neither knew which one to pluck down first to present to the other.  Not to mention, they weren’t in the most ideal location to have such a heartfelt conversation.  So Kihyun, glancing at the dismal worn-down stone walls around them, cleared his throat before beginning, “I was able to pull a few strings to get you out of here.”

Hyunwoo, shrewd as ever, narrowed his eyes in suspicion.  “But?” he prompted.

Kihyun grinned sheepishly.  “Good news is the case against you has been dropped completely and your record totally expunged, so you are a free man in the eyes of the law.”

“But,” Hyunwoo prompted again much firmer this time.

“But the bad news is you aren’t a free man in the eyes of my bosses.”  The sharp look he earned at his decidedly tactful way at breaking the news to his friend spurred him on to explain, “They want you to work for them.  Like, work work for them.”  Hyunwoo blinked at him.  Kihyun kept talking, “It’d mostly be security.  Like accompanying me to meetings, overseeing shift changes, bodyguarding a  few mid-level members, other things of the like. You wouldn’t have t—“

“I’ll do whatever I need to do to repay my debt,” Hyunwoo interjected firmly.  “Please inform your bosses of my decision and relay my deepest sincerities to them.”

Kihyun coughed a little awkwardly, “About that—“  Hyunwoo rose from his chair abruptly, the sound of the chair legs scratching across the floor echoed harshly off the stone walls.  He took a couple steps forward toward the two-way mirror.  “What are you doing?”  Ignoring Kihyun’s question, Hyunwoo lifted his arms high above his head before slowly lowering onto to his knees and bending forward until his forehead and palms rested against the ground.  

He stayed perfectly still in his bow for a period of time, well after the door opened and another exceptionally composed man strode into the room until he stopped before him.  “I expect your loyalty and your life,” came the softly murmured edict.  Despite the quietness of the deep baritone voice, Hyunwoo could feel and hear the man’s power clearly in the words.

Hyunwoo lifted his forehead off the ground just barely enough so his voice wouldn’t be muffled as he pledged, “Please consider them yours.”

The man didn’t respond; instead, he simply turned on his heel and left.  It wasn’t until Kihyun reached down to pat his shoulder that Hyunwoo finally lifted himself off the floor.  His friend smiled at him, his eyes sparkling bright with happiness as he lightly punched him on the shoulder.  “Way to show me up there, man,” he teased.  “I had to grovel for them to even consider it; and here you go, proving me right.”  Hyunwoo rolled his eyes and reached down to flick him square in the forehead.  New face or not, years apart or not, Kihyun still huffed indignantly at the flick just like Hyunwoo knew he would.  “I literally save your ass and this is how you repay me? Ungra—“

“I’ll buy you dinner if you shut up.”

“...Deal.  But I get to pick the place.”

Hyunwoo knew a trap when he saw one. “We’re not going to any expensive places, Yoo Kihyun, so don’t try it.”

“Well then what’s the fucking point of offering to buy my dinner?” Kihyun snapped with a scowl. “And it’s not like your cheap ass is broke either.”

Hyunwoo blinked at him before pulling his friend into another tight hug.  “Thank you,” he breathed gently, “for everything.”

All the fight left Kihyun’s body as he hugged his dear friend in return, “Don’t mention it.”

“I’ve missed you,” Hyunwoo admitted easily, letting him go.  

Kihyun, tactful as ever, shrugged, “Come on, I’m starving and I’m sick of looking at these walls.  We can catch up after you buy me dinner and dessert.”

“Kihy—“

“Nope, I saved your life. You owe me!”

————————————

Kihyun fought to maintain his composure as Kwon Jiyong, second-most powerful man on the peninsula, morosely slid his (rather outstanding, if he said so himself) monthly earnings report to the side of his desk.  Bracing himself, Kihyun waited expectantly for the shoe to drop.  Sure, he’d heard the rumors from the underlings, but he hadn’t fully believed them since he was certain the big boss wasn’t a proper fool, despite being foolish enough to get involved with a self-obsessed twat. “We’ve decided to go in a different direction,” Kwon tersely supplied, “and this path no longer includes you or your services.  We will honor the original agreement with regards to your severance as long as the conditions we agreed upon are upheld.”

Well, Kihyun stood corrected.  Kwon was a proper fool after all.  At least he didn’t give him a bullshit excuse as to why he was terminating the very lucrative fight club Kihyun had so viciously (literally and figuratively) fought to establish in the first place.  Not that Kihyun needed one.  He was more than aware of what the real reason was.

He wasn’t stupid—far from it.  He’d seen the termination coming from twenty kilometers away.  Always aware that one day his time with the Headmasters would end, he had hustled his ass off so when the day came, he had a name and reputation off which to build his own empire.  He just hadn’t expected the day to come so soon, let alone over a fucking moron’s insecurity.  Spite, he could handle.  Hell, jealousy, he could even admire.  But insecurity?  Even with the head of the most powerful syndicate in the region being so grossly and unfathomably infatuated with one so far below their usual standards?  Pathetic.

It was a miracle that Kihyun managed to keep his voice calm (even respectful) as he bowed deeply before his now-former boss—a seemingly respectable man he had once admired but had now come to pity—and somberly spoke, “I understand.  Thank you for all that you have done for me.  It is truly a shame our partnership could not have lasted longer, but I will take all that I have learned from my time here with me. I will do all I can to honor our agreement.”  

He rose slowly from his bow and turned towards the younger man draped lazily in his chair.  Smiling despite the absurdity of the present situation, he sincerely wished, “I hope to see each other soon, Hyungwon-ssi.  It has been an honor to see you come into your own.  I hope someday we can do more business with each other. Though, more than that, I truly hope that we can become great friends.  It’s hard knowing who to trust in this game, but I trust you.”

“And I, you,” Hyungwon returned immediately, all pretense of his signature casual disinterest vanished and replaced with a rare display of sincerity.  Kihyun had meant what he’d said when he said it, but seeing so clearly how much Hyungwon had come to value him too as a colleague stoked a fire of urgency to blaze wildly within him.  The younger man had so much potential, and it was being squandered fantastically.  Kwon was blindly using his greatest asset as a mere babysitter for his useless boytoy.  How shameful.  Kihyun extended his hand toward him and shook their firmly gripped palms resolutely.  If he wanted his own fledgling empire to survive, even someday thrive, he needed to have Hyungwon by his side.  And come hell or high water, he would do it. Proper etiquette be damned.

Giving a final bow as he approached the office door, he turned round to yank open the door—

“Kihyun,” a grating voice smugly greeted.

Kihyun immediately slapped a toothy grin across his face at the sight of the reviled, pathetic man who had cost him everything. And for what?  A stroke of his overly inflated, downright suffocating and hilariously fragile ego?  He couldn’t even begin to count the ways he wanted to carve that repugnant face to pieces. Yet he managed to force himself to respond cordially, “Oh, hello, Seungri-ssi.  I wasn’t expecting to bump into you here.  You must be here to pick up Hyungwon-ssi for tonight’s meeting.  I was just here to drop off our latest figures–they were our best ones yet, maybe the best the boss had ever seen.”  He stepped to the side and ushered the other man inside, “Here, please come in; I’d hate for you to be considered late.  You know how testy Hyungwon-ssi gets when it comes to punctuality.”

He delighted in seeing the way the asshole visibly faltered, confidence shattering into confusion at the unexpected reaction.  Good, Kihyun thought smugly as he let his grin soften into a gentle smile.  He reached out to run his fingertips along the fabric of the expensive suit the other wore, carefully engaging the hidden blades in his rings so they’d slice through the delicate threads and permanently mar the suit’s beauty. Gripping the other’s arm, he lied, “I really hope we have a chance to meet again soon so we can properly catch up and such.  Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“I don’t think that will be possible considering–”

“Oh, relax, Seungri,” he chuckled hollowly, “I’m not hitting on you!”  As if he’d ever be that desperate.  “That’s wholly unprofessional, and I’m honestly not that shameless.  I meant as colleagues; I’d love nothing more than to pick your brains,” he admitted plainly, but continued, “since you used to be an athlete.  I think having your insight will make my fight club that much more profitable if I know what to look for, you know?”

Seungri’s eyebrow twitched at the pointed jab.  Kihyun’s delight grew at seeing him so visibly frustrated. “I doubt my insight would do much to help your little club since none of your fighters are actual athletes.”

“And you aren’t either anymore so I think it would,” Kihyun retorted with a smirk.  “But let’s just agree to disagree,” he offered with a dismissive shrug.  “I’ll catch you around sometime, Seungri-ssi.  Have a good night.”  He let the door slam shut with a satisfyingly loud bang in Seunghyun’s fucking face.

Letting all pretenses of gentility fall from his countenance, Kihyun quickly strode toward the elevator, nodding his head at Kwon’s secretary as he went, and repeatedly stabbed the call button with his finger.  He needed to get out of this building so he could think clearly.  His mind was reeling with countless plans as to how to begin, but he had one clear goal in mind: He was going to fucking annihilate Lee Seunghyun.

————————————

“Need a ride?” a surprisingly cheery voice called out from beside him.

Hyungwon didn’t even bother to hold back his laughter, “I should have known you would follow us.”

“Well, what can I say?” Kihyun smirked, reaching over to pop open the passenger door, silently beckoning for the younger to get in. “I’m an opportunistic bastard.”

“That you are,” Hyungwon nodded, smoothly sliding into the seat and tossing the wet umbrella into the backseat. Buckling himself in, he dropped all pretenses and asked bluntly, “You saw?”

“I saw.”

“And?”

“And I believe he’s a fucking imbecile and our former boss is a fucking fool,” Kihyun managed to say with minimal disgust in his voice. A feat in itself considering the evening he had.

Hyungwon let his head rest against the cool glass of the window as he sighed, “I never understood what they saw in him in the first place.”

The elder blinked, not expecting that comment, before things clicked in his head.  He huffed, his annoyance and disappointment for his friend immediately spiking, “God, I forget how long you’ve been with them. And what do you have to show for it? An umbrella?”

“Excuse you, that is a family heirloom,” Hyungwon sarcastically objected which drew out a bout of bright laughter from his friend.

Regaining his composure, Kihyun pulled the car over to the side of the road.  “Listen,” he began as he turned to face the younger, “you and I are a lot alike. Even though we come from different parts of this world, we both know better than most exactly how it works.”  He gestured toward the other, “You know how to shmooze the corrupt elite into going against their long-term best interests—don’t look so surprised, I know it was you who brokered that deal—and I,” he emphasized the word as he pressed his hand against his chest, “know how to get a poor man to give up his very last dollar. Our talents were being wasted there, yours more than mine. Even if you didn’t have your family’s name, you bring so much to the table as is, Hyungwon.”

Hyungwon blinked sleepily at him, “But?”

“There’s no ‘but.’  I mean it.  You know how to hustle, persuade, manipulate, and adapt.  You’re cunning and resourceful enough to drag the best out of the worst.” He scoffed, “I mean, hell, you even got that idiotic little bitch to cooperate for the majority of the time you were forced to be his warden.”  That garnered a hum of agreement from the other. Kihyun’s voice softened as he spoke, reaching over and gently gripping his forearm, “You’ve got power, Hyungwon, with and without your name.  What’s more is you know how and when to use it.”

“While I appreciate the flattery,” Hyungwon smiled warmly before shifting into a more serious expression, “I need you to get to the point.” He was tired of waiting for Kihyun’s ask, he was tired of being stuck in this dreary city, he was tired of being used as nothing more than an errand boy or a figure head at best, he was just tired.

Kihyun understood him well.  He wouldn’t blame him at all if he rejected his offer, but he would be surprised if he did considering it was the offer of a lifetime. “The point is that you came to Seoul to build your own empire.  I did, too.  I believe that together we can build an empire strong and vast enough to eclipse that of the Headmasters.”

“And why do you think that I’d be interested in partnering with someone, especially a relative no-name like you?” he countered immediately, before tacking on, “No offense.”

“None taken,” Kihyun chuckled. “Your name brought you under Kwon Jiyong’s tutelage, yet it alone didn’t keep you there.  My lack of a name got me into the game, but it didn’t move me through the ranks from the very bottom to near the top.  Our ambition to create our own legacy, patience to build it bit by bit each day, and ruthlessness to make sure nothing or no one got in the way of our destiny is what got us to where we were.  They’re what will get us to where we need to be. Together.”

“What if I don’t want to do it together?”

He shrugged, merging back onto the street, “Then this will be our last conversation about it.”

Hyungwon knew him too well to think he would really leave it at that. “But?”

Kihyun cracked a smug smile, “But I already know I’ve sold you on it.”

“You’re very cocky for someone whose needs far outweigh those of the person they’re practically begging,” Hyungwon yawned.

“First of all,” the elder scoffed, “I don’t beg.  Second of all, I’m a bookie: Selling people on the vision against all odds is what I do.”

Hyungwon wordlessly conceded the point, choosing instead to mull over the proposition fully.  His mind ran through every scenario possible to assess if this was a risk even worth taking.  He was ambitious, yes, but he wasn’t blind to reason.  If they did this, they would be going against the largest syndicate this side of the Pacific.  Taking them down would require more than just pride and vengeance.  It would take years of reconnaissance, libraries’ worth of tactical strategies, armies of manpower, and billions of won to finance it all.  They couldn’t afford to make a single mistake, lest they be taken down too.  It was beyond risky. Yet…  

“If you go, go boldly.” He heard his father’s words clearly in his head as if the man had just spoken them to him.  This was as bold as he could go.  And, truthfully, nothing would bring him greater satisfaction than to build his empire off the bones and ashes of those who had scorned him. Shit, Kihyun was right: He was sold.  He didn’t speak again until they arrived at the airfield, one of his father’s private jets awaiting him already. “Despite recent events, I still respect Kwon Jiyong. While I do not agree with every decision he has made, obviously, he has taught me many important lessons.  The first being to keep your allies close enough so they never feel like they’re enemies, even when you’ve taken everything from them.  No direct harm must come to him by our own doing.  Agreed?”

Kihyun had already figured that would be a condition, so he readily accepted it with a nod, “Agreed.”

“The second most important lesson was to never leave loose ends.” Hyungwon unbuckled his seatbelt, reaching behind himself to get his umbrella. A hint of a smile was on his lips as he followed up, “Fortunately for us, he never takes his own advice.”

The other man’s brow knitted together in slight confusion. “What do you mean?”

“In order for our empire to have any chance of survival, we will need a legitimate front.  You cannot provide that as you’re a bookie by trade, I cannot provide that on account of my notorious lineage. But I know of someone who I am certain would be more than willing to join us,” he smirked as he added with great emphasis, “if given the right motivation.”

Kihyun immediately understood what he meant. “Who?”

“Lee Minhyuk, heir of Lee Media Group, Incorporated.”

————————————

A pitiful whine sounded from Minhyuk’s side mere seconds before silvery puppy eyes flooded his vision. “Oh, don’t look at me like that!” Minhyuk huffed. “I ordered you a pizza, too, and it’ll be here sooner than you think, okay? Now move,” he gently nudged his giant fluffball of a pet’s face away, “I have to finish this paper tonight.” He got a quick yet gentle whack to the face by his beloved companion’s tail for his efforts, a chuckle rumbling in his chest at the petty action. Once he was sure Beauty was settled back into her usual lounging spot, he wriggled a bit to wake his butt up so he could comfortably fall back into his workflow and the trancelike focus it brought.

A loud, insistent buzz suddenly sounded causing Minhyuk to glance up from his textbook in surprise. Tucking his highlighter behind his ear, he rooted around a bit through the haphazard pile of cluttered notes for his phone, clicking his teeth in annoyance when he realized that it’d been in his lap the entire time. He unlocked it quickly and checked the time he’d ordered his pizzas. “Huh, I guess I lost track of time,” he commented offhandedly as he pushed himself up off the floor to buzz the delivery guy in, earning a curious yip in return. Warm, soft fur brushed past his thigh as he leaned up against the wall by his apartment door. He leaned down to stare his beloved fur baby directly in her piercing silver eyes. “Now Beauty, remember what we talked about earlier,” he began sternly. “You can’t growl at the delivery guy any more or else I have to leave you alone to go get us food; and it’s already hard enough leaving you to go to class because you, my precious devious angel, like to climb up on things you shouldn’t be on and howl at the rumba when it’s cleaning.” Beauty snorted in response as if she were indignantly denying the (completely true) allegations lodged against her. Minhyuk laughed, leaning forward to bump his head against hers, “You and I both know it’s true! I have video evidence!” Beauty snorted again, turning her head away from him to lift her nose up as high as it could go. “You’re such a brat!” he gently shoved her shoulder before straightening up when three quick knocks sounded against his door. With a quick “behave” to his sassy wolf, he yanked open his door to reveal a very handsome, very pizza-less man. “You’re not the delivery guy?” Minhyuk pointed out dumbly.

“Uh, no,” the guy chuckled, “I’m not. My name’s Yoo Kihyun. May I come in?”

Minhyuk was not in the habit of letting strangers—no matter how attractive—into his home, especially considering his overprotective, four-legged bodyguard would happily rip them from limb to limb if given half the chance. Yet when said bodyguard decides to have a complete personality change within a split second and prance forward to calmly sniff the stranger before stubbornly wedging her large head under his fingertips in a silent prompt for him to pet her, well Minhyuk really had no choice but to let the man in. “P-please, come in,” he managed to stammer out, robotically pulling the door all the way open for his guest to enter. “Um, I’m sorry for the mess,” he apologized sheepishly as he kicked mismatched pairs of shoes closer to the shoe cubby he’d bought only weeks before in a failed attempt to force himself to be a little less of a slob. Thankfully, he did have an unused pair of slippers placed atop the cubby for the guests he never had over. He offered them to the man, who took them with a warm smile and soft “thanks.”

“It’s okay,” Kihyun assured him gently as he carefully placed his shoes in the cubby hole Minhyuk had motioned toward, “I know you weren’t expecting me and I understand how busy a student’s life can be, especially this time of year.”

“Uh, yeah, it can be. But how did you know I was student?”

“Well, if the highlighter and pen tucked behind your ears weren’t enough of a clue, the mountain of books, papers, flash cards, and sticky notes behind you definitely gave it away. That and the way your laptop is precariously perched atop those empty ramen cups,” Kihyun chuckled.

Minhyuk flushed in embarrassment. “Oh,” he said dumbly, “yeah, I guess that makes sense.” Scratching nervously at his neck, he awkwardly shifted on his feet and tried to remember his social graces. “Um, can I get you anything to drink? We—no, I ordered pizza a little while ago and it should be here soon, if you’d like some.”

Kihyun smirked, “As long as there’s no pineapple on it, I’d love a slice, thank you. And water will be just fine.” He motioned to the futon wedged into the corner beside the couch which lay covered in the contents of Minhyuk’s upended backpack, “Is it alright if I sit?”

“Of course! Make yourself at home.” Minhyuk had to tamp down a groan of embarrassment as his blush deepened at the sight of the haphazard mess that was his study nest. “I’m really sorry about the mess, I forget how much of a slob I can be sometimes,” he apologized shyly as he scrambled over to the couch to shove everything back into his backpack, before kicking it into the corner.

“There’s no need to apologize,” Kihyun assured him warmly. “This is your home, you’re allowed to live in it how you please. Besides, I showed up here unannounced, so I should be the one apologizing for interrupting your studies.”

Minhyuk shook his head, “Oh, no, it’s fine. I was almost finished anyway.” Satisfied with his slightly less messy couch, he doubled back to the kitchen to fish out a bottle of water for his guest before returning to the living room. “Here you go.”

“Thank you.” Kihyun didn’t open the bottle, though, placing it instead on the sole coaster Minhyuk had managed to save from Beauty’s jaws. “What’s her name?” he asked curiously as he held out a hand toward the wolf, who sniffed it again before dipping her head down to let his fingers tangle in her fur.

Usually when people saw his precious fur baby, they ran for the hills with panic and fear clear in their eyes. And on more than one occasion, they left with the acrid scent of excrement trailing behind them. So to see someone act so warmly and calmly toward her as instantly as Kihyun did was absolutely mind boggling to Minhyuk. “Her name’s Beauty.”

“As in ‘Beauty and the Beast?’”

“Yeah, exactly! Though I guess she’s both.”

“Then it’s a perfectly fitting name. She really is very beautiful,” he hummed as he continued to pet the surprisingly docile wolf.

“She is, but don’t let her pretty face fool you: She can be quite an ass when she wants to be,” Minhyuk griped remembering all things she’d literally ripped apart in their years together. He loved her dearly, but he still hadn’t quite managed to forgive her for gnawing on his limited edition figurines.

The buzzer rang, jolting him out of his momentary annoyance at her. With pleading eyes, he motioned toward Beauty, “Do you mind holding her? She gets kind of feisty whenever she sees me talking to a delivery guy, or anyone really.” Kihyun nodded, digging his fingers in a little more to scratch a bit more fervently behind her ear, rendering her a large, useless ball of mollified fluff. Once the pizzas were safely in the other’s arms, Kihyun let up on the pressure enough to bring her back to full alertness. “I don’t think I have any clean plates, but again you’re more than welcome to have some. Though if you want any chance at the carnivore’s delight, tell me now so I can distract her long enough so you can get some.”

“I wouldn’t dare come between a lady and her food!”

“Trust me, she’s no lady when there’s food involved,” Minhyuk chuckled as he flipped open the lids of both pizza boxes. He barely managed to move his hand out of the way before Beauty pounced on it, mercilessly tearing into the various smoked and grilled meats that adorned the cheese-less, extra-thin crust. “See, I told you!”

Kihyun chuckled, reaching for his water bottle instead when Minhyuk motioned for him to get a slice, slowly unscrewing the cap and taking a long swig. The chilled water did little to settle the storm rolling within him. He watched the two eat with a small smile on his face as, not for the first time since Hyungwon’s man had delivered the promised dossier, he heavily contemplated whether ambition and vengeance were worth permanently tearing apart the life of someone who had already endured hell at such a young age.

While their lives up to this point were markedly different, Kihyun felt a kindred spirit within the other. He knew well what it was like to hide from the world, retreat into oneself for years on end just to keep sane while staying protected from the cold jaws of a violent, vain death. He was as much an expert as the other in rebuilding oneself and one’s life from scratch after everything had been ripped away in a blink of an eye. And unlike him, Minhyuk seemed to be content with this new life he’d built. Who was he to take that away from him? He knew with a little work and the right phrasing he could persuade the other into joining their fledgling organization, but at what cost?

Before seeing him in his cozy habitat, it’d been so easy picturing Minhyuk as distant and distrusting. The reality of him could not have been in greater contrast: He was warm and caring, open and trusting, dazzlingly bright in all his normalcy. Could he survive, retain his radiance and warmth, in the cruel world of the city’s underbelly? Kihyun knew Minhyuk was strong, he’d read as much in the dossier ten times over; but he also knew primal survival was a completely different beast than surviving betrayals and assassination attempts, which were easily the most mundane parts of his life. He was used to masking his own true self and keeping a wary eye on his own shadow because he’d been forced to survive in this world for so long. That was where he and Minhyuk truly differed; and that was the crux of the matter which tore Kihyun apart: Minhyuk would have to choose to give up his safety and sanity to join Kihyun in the darkness of the dangerous night for a chance that may never come.

He couldn’t—

“Are you okay?” Minhyuk’s slightly raspy voice gently uttering those words gored Kihyun to the heart.

Fuck.

Kihyun sighed heavily, eyes lowering under the heaviness of the truth. “I thought I would be.” He reached into his coat to retrieve the dossier that had weighed so heavy on his conscience since he first opened it and placed it in his lap. Curling his fingers tightly around the spine of it so as to ground himself, he forced himself to stare Minhyuk right in his eyes and spoke with all the sincerity he could muster in an attempt to express some remorse for his presence here. “Before I tell you why I’m here, I need to thank you for welcoming me into your home. You’ve shown me such kindness that I never expected and it pains me deeply, deeper than I ever thought possible to know I have invaded your safehaven. I am truly sorry, I hope you can believe at some point that I am.”

Kihyun didn’t miss the way Minhyuk instinctively leaned back into Beauty, hand snaking down to grip her paw, nor did he miss the way the wolf shifted her head forward should she need to attack. He continued on anyway, heart sinking with every word he spoke, “The truth is I’m here to ask something great of you. Before I can ask you, though, I have to tell you something that will change your life for the rest of your days. I don’t know for certain if that change will be for the better or the worse, though I’m certain it will not be easy to hear or to accept. If you don’t want to know, tell me now and I will leave immediately so you can carry on with your life.”

Minhyuk stared at him hard for a long, silent moment before he spoke again, voice a little less gentle but no less comforting despite everything, “Who are you?”

“I’m a bookie,” he answered simply yet immediately. “Up until a couple weeks ago, I used to work for the most powerful organized crime syndicate in the nation. I was singlehandedly responsible for bringing in billions and billions of won just from my fight club and schemes alone. My immediate success within the organization made certain... persons wary of me, leading them to question whether my services were actually of benefit to the organization despite my very obvious profitability. Enough doubt, so to speak, was cast upon my character and operations that I was let go. All out of jealousy and spite,” he scoffed bitterly.

“The same night I was forced out,” Kihyun continued, “another member of the organization, who was far higher in the food chain than I ever would be, decided he had had enough of cleaning up the messes made by those same certain persons. I saw the opportunity and I took it. I convinced him to become my partner so we could build our own empire. So we could finally have the power we had worked our asses off for, for nearly all of our lives. My partner was born into this life, I was forced into it. Even though we both have our own skills and assets which could get us far, they’re not enough to fully sustain our empire for decades to come. We needed someone else, someone who had all the missing pieces and would be willing to join us. We believe that person is you.”

Minhyuk’s brow furrowed deeply, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I was sent here to convince you to join us.” He leaned forward to gingerly place the dossier on the corner of the table between them, his movements carefully tracked by two pairs of intensely focused eyes. “In order to do that, though, I must tell you a terrible truth.” He dropped his voice to a gentle hush, “Now is your last chance to kick me out. Just say no and I’ll leave you alone forever. I promise you.”

Minhyuk shifted onto his knees, trying to keep his movements slow and steady despite his overwhelming urge to bolt straight for his front door and never look back, and grabbed a comforting fistful of Beauty’s fur to ground himself. “I-I’m not sure what—“ he stammered out before scrambling to his feet. “I’m sorry, I need a moment.” He didn’t even wait until the last word was out of his mouth; he was already making a beeline to his bedroom, rushing into it as if it were the surface of a rolling sea that he’d been dragged under before he could catch even half a breath. The door slammed behind him as he slammed his back against it, chest heaving and icy bolts coursing through his veins. His hands shakily gripped the hem of his baggy sweatshirt, and he tried to focus past the black spots dotting his vision to look helplessly at his beloved protector. Beauty leaned into him until her head was pressed firmly against his stomach so she could stare seemingly reassuringly up at him. His knees gave out. His tailbone hit the uncarpeted floor hard, but he didn’t even register the pain. Beauty nuzzled up to him, flooding him with her comforting warmth and anchoring him with her familiar weight. Slowly, steadily, surely, he was able to breathe a bit more evenly enough to where he could actually focus on the decision at hand: Yes or no?

If he said no, he could pretend this day never happened. He could continue on with his life as he saw fit, could keep up the same routines that had provided him structure and stability and sanity for all these years. There was no reason he needed to change his life. He was happy, he really was. He had Beauty, he had his apartment, he had his passing acquaintances and casual friends. He didn’t need anything else.

Yet, what did he really have to lose if he said yes? Sure, he was happy with his life, but not necessarily content. He had always felt he should be doing more with his life, should be more in this life. After all there was always his parents’ legacy looming high over his head, constantly looking down upon him and haunting him in all his moments, waking and sleeping alike. He wanted to be the filial son their bloodied ghosts agonizingly begged him to be in the nightmares that jolted him awake in a pool of chilled sweat on many a dark night. He wanted to be able to live up to his name, to make his parents proud, to do what was expected of him. But he was terrified, so terrified. What if he failed? What if he ruined the only good thing that still connected him with his parents? What if he wasn’t good enough? What if he wasn’t meant to achieve more? What if he wasn’t meant to be more?

Beauty shifted a bit to bump her snout against his forehead. Minhyuk pressed into the calming touch with a grateful sigh. “What should we do?” he whispered to her. She didn’t make a noise like usual; instead, she just lifted her paw and pressed it to his chest. “But I’m scared...” he admitted. “What if I mess everything up? What if I—“ Beauty cut him off with a harsh snort as she pressed her paw that much more firmly against his chest, her way of telling him to stop overthinking and trust his gut as it had never lead him wrong. The only thing that he was truly afraid of was the strangely intense pull toward the mysterious man with the terrible secret currently sat on his raggedy futon.

Minhyuk knew the second Kihyun warned him about the hidden truth that he would not be able to carry on with his life without hearing it. Even if he lied and told him to leave, it’d be a matter of days before his curiosity got the best of him and he tracked him down. He was never the type to just let things lie as they were. He had to figure them out, had to find the truth beneath it all. He knew he was damned with every word Kihyun regretfully spoke. So with all the courage he could muster to bid a bittersweet farewell to the life he had known until then, Minhyuk rose from his crouched position and took a long, steadying breath before opening his bedroom door.

Kihyun watched with bated breath as Minhyuk wordlessly crossed the living room to get to the kitchen. Silently, Minhyuk dug around in his cabinets for two shot glasses before quickly retrieving the bottle of soju he kept in his fridge in case of emotional emergencies and reckless decisions, both of which were happening simultaneously then. He strode into his living room with more confidence than he felt he should have had considering the situation and set the glasses down, easily snapping the cap off the bottle against the table edge. He poured the glasses up to the brim and wordlessly handed one to Kihyun, who accepted it silently. “Here’s to handsome strangers with mysterious origin stories,” Minhyuk toasted jokingly with a small smile. He slung the shot back, pounding the glass back down onto the table so he could fill it up again, not even wincing at the burn of the alcohol sliding down his throat. Kihyun followed suit, opting instead though to calmly place his glass down. “Here’s to never being able to say no.” Another downed shot, another poured round. “Here’s to never being the same.” Another round down. “Here’s to the truth and all its devastation.” He finished off his shot and grabbed the dossier before Kihyun could reach for it. “So do you want to tell me or should I just read it for myself?”

Kihyun rolled the glass between his palms as he answered quietly, “It’s up to you, Minhyuk.”

“It seems a shame for you to go through all the hard work of tracking me down,” Minhyuk thumped a knuckle against the dossier cover, “and not tell me yourself.”

The dreaded moment had finally arrived. Kihyun had foolishly thought that when the time came, he would be able to just say the words with as much ease as him reciting his usual burger order. As with many things about that night, he had been wrong. He found himself at a complete loss for words for the first time in his life. No matter how he managed to phrase it—to string the few words that returned to him in a sensible way, to cushion the devastating blow with gentle intonation and calm phrasing—there was no way to escape the hurt he would be bringing to Minhyuk with the truth. And that struck him hard like a brick across the jaw. For the very first time, Kihyun realized the power he had over the life of another. He couldn’t breathe for a moment as the sobering reality and responsibility crashed hard over him.

“Kihyun?” Minhyuk prompted, confusion clear in his voice.

Kihyun’s eyes snapped to meet his at the sound of his name. Then the terrible truth fell from his dry lips:

“Your parents were assassinated.”

A tense stillness stretched between and coiled around them like a massive constrictor crushing them between its mighty scales, gripping them so tightly that neither man felt they could breathe. The silence hanging over them was deafening. It blocked out even the sounds of their frantic heartbeats. The longer they sat, the more unnerved Kihyun became. He didn’t know whether to apologize again and again and again or fully detail the assassination plot or just get up and leave. He was stuck and all he could was wait for Minhyuk to give him some sort of cue as to h—

A shrill CRACK! shattered the silence. It took Kihyun a moment to realize the sound came from one of the shot glasses, a moment more allowed him to locate the broken glass and he gasped. Minhyuk had crushed the glass in his clenched fist, crimson blood dripping freely from his hand a stark contrast to the taut, pale skin of his knuckles. Kihyun made to reach forward to grab his hand but he jerked back immediately as Minhyuk bolted up to his feet. He crouched down, unaware of the glass shards sticking in his flesh, to grip the table’s edge and heaved with all his might to fling it across the room, the wood making a sickening cracking noise as it collided heavily with the wall while all the books, papers, pens, pizza boxes, snack bags, and even his laptop flew through the air to scatter and shatter around the floor.

Spinning on his heel, he grabbed the first thing he saw—his favorite lamp—and threw it to the ground, not even flinching at the sizzling crack of the bulb shorting out as its plug was yanked from the wall. He kicked over his barstools; ripped apart the few decorative pillows he owned; pushed all his video games, figurines, consoles, movies, controllers, any and everything on his shelves onto the ground. He smashed his fist into the glass screen of his television without even batting an eye. Not satisfied with its meager offerings to his raging storm of destruction, he grabbed its edges and ripped it from its mount on the wall. Raising it high over his head, he furiously slammed it down onto the ground, the sheer force with which he hurled it causing it to crack in half once it hit. Not seeing anything else that could be destroyed, Minhyuk grabbed fistfuls of his hair and yanked as hard as he could, the unbearable pain making itself known by ripping a bloodcurdling shriek of agony out his throat. Yet the sound and sensation only made him pull harder at his strands as more screams fell from his lips, all while he sobbed with helplessness and desperation and blinding rage.

Kihyun couldn’t bear to watch this downward spiral anymore. Motioning for Beauty to just stay put despite her pitiful whines, he positioned himself behind the other and reached up to carefully yet firmly pry his hands from his tortured scalp. Once free, he gripped Minhyuk’s wrists so he could guide his arms to wrap tightly across his heaving chest, just barely managing to keep his grip the entire time despite Minhyuk’s best efforts to break free from his hold. He pulled him tight against his chest then wedged a foot between his feet so he could gently nudge them apart before realigning his stance. Slowly, he bent his knees, causing Minhyuk’s to bend in response, and he lowered them down until they were seated on the only debris-free stretch of flooring.

As soon as they were on the ground, Beauty pounced. She immediately curled up in his lap as best she could, rooting her nose around to sniff out any open wounds not yet seen. Kihyun let Minhyuk’s hands go so as to be as non-threatening as possible. He could feel a little of the tension slide from Minhyuk’s shoulders as she sniffed and licked and fussed over him. He rose slowly to his feet and slipped away silently to search for a first aid kit. When he found it, he returned to the living room but stopped short when he saw Minhyuk holding his injured hand as far away from Beauty as possible, his other arm curled round her to keep her at bay. It seemed that Minhyuk still had enough awareness to make sure his beloved guardian and companion didn’t get hurt while trying to care for him. Kihyun reached down to encircle his wrist; Minhyuk flinched at the unexpected touch but relaxed when Beauty managed to lurch forward enough to lick his face again. Kihyun recognized the opportunity for what it was and knelt down beside him so he could begin to gingerly clean his wounds. He worked at it for some time, enough for both men to settle into a relatively confident silence. “You’ll need stitches,” Kihyun softly whispered once the wounds were cleaned as best he could.

Panic flooding him, Minhyuk shook his head vehemently at the thought and he instinctively held Beauty tighter to his chest, “I d-don’t wan— I c-can’t l-leave her alone—“ His voice cracked, the last little bit of light in his eyes fading as he seemed to finally understand the true meaning of the word, let it roll off his tongue like a hopeless prayer set on an endless loop, “Alone...alone...alone...alone...”

“Shhh, shhh...” Kihyun wedged himself against his back so he could be closer to him, provide some sort of sense of security so, he hoped, Minhyuk wouldn’t sink too far down into the depths of despair. Perhaps it was so he could feel of some use, feel a little less like a heartless piece of shit for letting his vengeance consume the sun. “We don’t have to go to a hospital. I know a doctor. I’ll call him, he’s very discrete and he does excellent work. You’ll heal in no time.” His breath caught as something shifted wrong inside of him at his last words. No, he realized, Minhyuk wouldn’t heal quickly at all, at least not his body. He might never heal... Kihyun placed the gauze-covered hand atop Beauty’s head, a sudden overwhelming urge to get the hell out of there overtaking him. “I’ll go call him now.” Kihyun carefully extracted himself, slipping his coat onto the man’s shoulders once on his feet, and slipped into the hallway, shaky hands barely able to dial Hyungwon’s number.

“Kihyun,” came the sleepy greeting.

“I told him,” Kihyun breathed out in a rush.

He could hear shuffling on the other end of the line, presumably Hyungwon moving to a slightly more private area, “You didn’t tell him everything, I take it.”

Kihyun raked a hand through his hair, “I couldn’t. He fucking snapped.”

“Well, no shit,” his partner deadpanned. “What did you expect? Him to just smile and take it on the chin? His parents were fucking murdered in what he thought was just a random, tragic car accident that he should’ve died in too.”

“I’m not a moron, Hyungwon,” he snapped back before heaving out a frustrated sigh. “I knew he wouldn’t take it well but he just trashed his entire apartment and crushed a goddamn glass with his bare fist! It’s like he fucking— I don’t know, like he just—“

“Grieved.” Hyungwon sighed softly. “Listen, I know you care for him, knew it long before you did; and that’s fine. I’m glad you do, shows that at least one of us has a heart,” he chuckled. “So use that to your advantage. Go in there and do your job. I believe in you. Call me when it’s finished.” He hung up.

Kihyun could only stare dumbly at the wall ahead of him for a moment. He knew Hyungwon was right. He’d already done the hardest part, had already cause near maximum damage. He just needed to talk until the deal was sealed. He was good at talking, very good. He breathed deeply a couple times to ground himself, quickly firing off a text to Dr. Lee in the meantime, before he pushed the door open only to be greeted by a surprisingly calm Minhyuk.

“I read it,” Minhyuk said simply, holding out the dossier in question towards the confused man before him. “I will join you under one condition.”

“What is it?”

“Should the time come,” Beauty sat down slowly beside her owner’s leg as he growled, “do not get in our way.”

—��——————————

“Are you sure about this?” Hyunwoo asked for the tenth time in as many minutes. Based on the long, exasperated sigh that dragged itself from across the other line into his ear, he just knew Kihyun was pinching the bridge of his nose hard enough to bruise in an attempt to tamp down his frustration at being asked the same question yet again. “Sorry,” he rushed out in order to placate his partner as best he could, “it’s just you know I’m terrible at, you know, talking.”

“I know,” Kihyun huffed, “which is exactly why I sent you. The kid’s young, but he’s not stupid. He’ll see me scheming from ten blocks away. You, on the other hand, are just too genuine of a person. He won’t expect it from you. Plus, your face is practically unreadable to anyone who isn’t me; so even if you feel like you’re fucking everything up, chances are he still won’t know anything’s off.”

“Now stop being a scaredy cat and go do your job,” Hyungwon interjected before forcibly hanging up in his face.

Hyunwoo blinked, still not used to the young don’s brazenness, especially considering who he was. It wasn’t that long ago when no one would even dare glance in his general direction; yet now he was routinely subjected to bratty behavior disguised as bluntness for efficiency’s sake. It was mindboggling to say the least. Pocketing his phone, he stuffed his hands into his hoodie and shuffled down the block, seamlessly blending in with the crowd around him.

Just as he was about to reach the arcade, the tell-tale grunts and groans of someone getting their ass kicked caught his attention. Turning to his left, Hyunwoo slipped into the alley unseen to find a group of four men huddled around and viciously kicking at a shaking body curled up on the ground between them. A jumping. How pathetic. Without a second thought, Hyunwoo lunged forward to yank one of the aggressors back by their jacket’s collar and spun them around, taking their momentary confusion to land a right hook across their jaw. The sickening crack of his fist connecting with and cracking the man’s jaw rang through the air, drawing the attention of the other three toward him. Hyunwoo relinquished his grip and only shrugged at them as the man’s body dropped into a crumpled heap at his feet. “Who’s next?” he calmly asked.

He’d never seen people run that fast from him before, especially while dragging the dead weight of an unconscious friend behind them. Chuckling quietly to himself, Hyunwoo leaned over to look down at the kid—no more than sixteen by the looks of it, but he knew better—on the ground who was slowly sitting up and regaining his breath. No visible bruises or significant cuts to the face or hands, a good enough sign. Making a mental note to have Dr. Lee check the younger out regardless of how the evening turned out, he held out his hand to him as he asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” the kid nodded as he reached up to take Hyunwoo’s offered hand. Hyunwoo had to fight to keep his face completely neutral despite being shocked as hell at just how deep the younger’s voice was. He pulled him up and stepped back, giving him enough space to dust himself off and collect himself. “Yeah, I’m fi—HOLY SHIT!” The kid was practically gawking at him, eyes comically wide and jaw agape as he finally looked right at his savior.

Hyunwoo blinked. Huh. “Is something on my face?” he mumbled, dumbly reaching up with his other hand to poke at his cheeks in search of whatever was attached to his skin.

“Oh my God.” He stepped in closer—uncomfortably closer—to Hyunwoo, who reflexively took a step back only to have his personal space erased yet again by the gawking weirdo in front of him. “Oh my God,” the kid practically wheezed, “I’m dreaming, I have to be. Oh my God. Holy fuck, please punch me.”

Hyunwoo blinked again. “You have a concussion,” he concluded aloud. It was the only thing that made sense as to why this child was ac—

“I don’t have a concussion,” he interjected flatly yet resolutely. “I see one of everything, my breathing is fine, I’m not dizzy or nauseated, I remembered everything, and I’m not confused. So please make my entire fucking, like, life and just. punch. me. in. the. FACE!”

The situation was approaching a level of strange Hyunwoo was not at all prepared for (and he spent an unreasonably large amount of time with Minhyuk and Beauty) and did not want to be involved with at all. Crossing his arms, he stared down his nose with a scowl and demanded, “Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re Son Hyunwoo!” the kid exclaimed in equal parts frustration and excitement, his arms flying above his head to flail in air, as if Hyunwoo should have already understood why he’d be asking to be punched in the face. “Aka, the greatest heavyweight boxer in the history of Korea, and one of the greatest of our generation in the entire world. Dude, you’re a fucking legend!” The kid stepped impossibly closer to (very boldly) clap a hand against Hyunwoo’s shoulder, his voice dropping down to what he clearly (and very mistakenly) believed to be a whisper as he added, “And between the two of us, I never once believed that you, you know,” he mimed cutting his neck, “did it.”

Hyunwoo had to laugh. He gingerly picked up the kid’s wrist to remove his hand from his shoulder, eyes sparkling with bemused warmth as he spoke, “While I appreciate your faith in me…” Abruptly, he yanked the captured wrist down to grab the kid’s hand in a crushing, immobilizing grip. All the warmth in his demeanor was ripped to shreds in a hostile sneer as he growled rough and low in his chest, “I did do it, and I’d do it again and again and again.”

A tense moment passed between them before the kid, much to Hyunwoo’s complete disbelief and mild annoyance, let out a long airy whistle between his teeth. “Whoa, man,” he breathed in awe, “consider my mind blown. Can I take you to dinner?”

“What?”

“Nah, bro, not like that,” he clarified, though rushed to add, “though I mean it’s totally cool if you took it that way and I would be really flattered, but I’m not asking you like that ‘cause I’m not into that personally. I’m just really such a huge fan of yours; and since you won’t punch me in the face, the least I could do is take you out, my treat. You like meat? Of course you do. Look at you, you probably eat a cow a day. I know an awesome little grill, it’s right around the corner. Cheap sets but super high quality meat. Not that I’m trying to be cheap or anything, ‘cause we could totally go to a fancier—“

“If I say yes, will you stop talking?” Hyunwoo interjected flatly, his head already swimming from the verbal bombardment.

The kid stared at him for a moment, completely silent for the first time since they’d met (Hyunwoo was certain he’d actually stopped breathing), before he tossed his head all the way back and legitimately chortled. Hyunwoo could only stare in confusion, not quite sure if he should be offended at being laughed at or amused at the funny sound squeaking out of the boy. Just as quickly as the laughing spell washed over him, it faded and the kid snapped his head forward to stare seriously at the other, “I hardly ever shut up so chances are very low. But I might if you, yanno...” He mimed an uppercut.

Hyunwoo let out an exasperated sigh, “I’m not going to punch you in the face, kid, no matter how much you ask.”

“That’s cool, that’s cool,” he nodded, holding his hands up placatingly before hooking a thumb over his shoulder. “Grill’s just around the corner there, but I gotta swing by the ATM first. Should only take a moment.”

“That’s fine,” Hyunwoo shrugged, already resigned to endure more rapidfire rants for the rest of the evening. At least his belly would be full and his job done by the end of the night.

“I’m Changkyun, by the way,” the kid tossed over his shoulder as he stopped at the first ATM he spotted.

Luckily for him, Hyunwoo didn’t even have to try to stop himself from admitting he already knew his name and damn near everything about him already because he was so caught off-guard that he blurted dumbly, “Why do you have four wallets?”

Changkyun turned to blink at him. “What do you mean? You saw what happened.”

“Yeah,” Hyunwoo nodded, gears still trying to figure out what the hell was going on, “I saw you getting your ass kicked.”

“Exactly,” he smirked evilly, “it was all part of my plan. Those asshats were too drunk to even realize what was happening,” he snickered as he fished through each wallet, digging out all the cards he could find and pocketing any bills.

“So you’re telling me,” Hyunwoo began, the gears finally starting to really click in his head, “you baited those guys into fighting you just so you could pickpocket them?”

“Yep!” the kid admitted easily, even going so far as to pop the ‘p’ at the end. “And I was gonna leave it at that, I really was, but they kicked Venom so I have to ruin their lives now. It’s what Venom would want.” He paused for a millisecond, considering. “Well, kinda, ‘cause Venom would just eat them and I’m definitely not a cannibal, but I digress.”

The gears stopped clicking. “What?”

The kid pointed to his shirt where a dirty boot print stain marred the center of the angular spider logo printed upon, “They kicked Venom. So now they have to die. Financially speaking, I’m not really big into murder...like...that...” he trailed off as the profound irony of his words and the moment hit him. A tense silence stretched between the two men as they stared at each other.

Hyunwoo fought desperately to keep his face blank, even though all he wanted to do was double over with laughter. The little shit was bold as hell and absolutely nuts, for sure, but damn it all if he wasn’t actually insanely charming and endearing. Yeah, he’d fit right in with everyone. “So, are you going to rob them blind or just stare at me all night?” he deadpanned after another minute or so of their staring contest.

Changkyun coughed uncomfortably as he finally dropped his eyes and fished out his own bank card—a dummy one, to be sure—, a bright red veil falling over his face. So he wasn’t so shameless after all, Hyunwoo mused to himself. “Um. Do you mind turning around?” he asked. He risked glancing back up as he explained, “You’re a cool dude and all and I know you wouldn’t rat me out to the cops, but I can’t have anyone knowing my proprietary secrets. So...” He motioned for Hyunwoo to turn around, which the elder did without any further prompting. “Thanks!” he chirped before proceeding to obliterate the poor fools’ financial accounts. “Aaaaaaand done!” Chankgyun excitedly announced. Hyunwoo turned his head in enough time to see him stuff an obscene amount of cash into his jacket pocket. “You hungry?” He latched himself onto the awed elder’s arm and shook his head, “Dumb question. Course you are. Who wouldn’t be this time of night? Leggo!” And with that, he all but dashed down the street, dragging his ensnared prey along with him to the tiniest hole-in-the-wall grill.

As soon as the bell of the sliding door tinkled the announcement of their arrival, a little old lady poked her head up from behind her counter. Her heart shaped face immediately spread into a wide, warm grin as she greeted them sweetly, the wrinkles around her eyes and the corners of her mouth bunching just so that it made Hyunwoo want to coo at her. “Oh, hi, Changkyun-ah! Whose your handsome friend?”

“AUNTIE,” Changkyun boomed gleefully as he reached out to try to pat her wrinkly cheeks, but was swiftly (surprisingly so) blocked from doing so with a sharp whack of her fan on his hand, “this is my friend Hy—Shownu! Shownu-hyung, this is my most favorite auntie ever because she feeds me all the best cuts, don’t you?”

He beamed brightly at her, earning yet another whack of her fan and an indignant huff from her. “Of course I do! You’re my most favorite and best customer after all!”

Changkyun scoffed dramatically, clutching his chest as he whined, “Am I only a customer to you? Auntie, I’m hurt!”

“Yes, well, you’re also a pain in my—“

“NEVER MIND! THREE OF THE KING SETS PLEASE AND TWO PITCHERS OF CASS, THANK YOU!” he yelled as he yanked Hyunwoo past her and plopped him down at the last grill along the back wall. As soon as he got comfortable (after scooching and squirming around on the low bench for damn near a minute), he curiously demanded, “So who’s Kiki?”

Hyunwoo, immediately put on high alert by the loaded question, had to physically restrain himself from launching across the table with the pair of meat shears by grabbing the splintered edges of the bench. Changkyun didn’t seem to notice, though, as he kept up the rapid fire questions. “Is that your girlfriend? Kiki’s a really cute name for a girl. What’s she like? Is she pretty? I bet she is.”

Hyunwoo knew his initial instincts were overreactive and unnecessary given the fact he knew full well the boy across him was one of the two best hackers this side of the Pacific (and he certainly wasn’t number two in his book considering what he’d seen). That was the whole reason he was here having an impromptu dinner with him. He knew his habits, his patterns, even his wins record at every arcade in the entire city; yet he still couldn’t shake the feeling he was being played like a goddamn fool right now, especially since there should have been no way for Changkyun to have even had access to his phone all night, let alone long enough to break through all the heavy duty encryptions to access his contacts or read his messages or see his call log. He huffed out a breath and shrugged, “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Oh, you’re a player, huh?” Changkyun nodded in consideration, “I respect that. But why is she—“

“He,” Hyunwoo reflexively interjected. Shit. He hadn’t meant to say that. Damn the boy and his disarming personality.

“Nice. But why is he asking if you’ve sealed the deal yet?” Changkyun blinked. “Wait.” He blinked again, then leaned forward to conspiratorially whisper (quietly shout), “Were you scouting me to be your third?”

“Third?” a curious voice warbled beside them.

Changkyun lurched back, eyes comically wide as fresh panic surged through him and colored his face red once more, and squeaked, “A third pitcher of Cass, Auntie!”

“But I’ve only just brought you your first two, Changkyun-ah. You know you can’t drink that much, especially on an empty stomach!” she chastised while scooting the chilled pitchers closer to a bemused (although still suspicious) Hyunwoo before she went about setting up the grill for them and arranging all the dishes to maximize the limited space at the table.

“Yes, but you see how big my hyung is, don’t you? A growing boy like him needs all the meat and beer he can get!”

“Aye,” she protested as she motioned toward Hyunwoo, “that’s not a boy like you. That is a man! A very handsome, very big, very strong, very se—“

“THANK YOU, AUNTIE. I WILL LET YOU KNOW IF WE NEED ANYTHING ELSE!” Changkyun screeched in an attempt to drown out all the unwanted images of the little old lady going on the prowl like the seasoned cougar he never ever in his life thought she could possibly (definitely) be. Thankfully, she only chuckled at his misery and let them be, returning back to her little cushioned cove behind the register (but only after she gave Hyunwoo’s bicep a very firm, appraising squeeze). “I’m sorry about her. I never thought she could be so...feisty? Ugh, I’m going to have nightmares about this. Wait. What were we talking about before?”

“I am not in a relationship with anyone, I am not a player, and I am not looking for a third,” Hyunwoo responded evenly.

“Oooh, that’s right,” the younger nodded as he replayed the earlier bits of their conversation in his head again while he focused on grilling the meat, garlic, and assorted vegetables that he definitely would not have even bothered touching if he were here by himself. “So then what’s Kiki talking about? I still think that’s a really cute name, even for a dude.”

“I’ll only tell you if you answer my question.”

“Okay, shoot.”

Hyunwoo crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes, “How did you know?”

“Know what?”

“Changkyun,” he said lowly in warning.

“What?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“I really don’t. I mean, there’s two things that may be in question here. I need specifics to work off of, hyung.”

“I’m not your hyung.”

“Yet,” he winked as he posited a few pieces of perfectly grilled meat onto the elder’s plate. A bribe if Hyunwoo had ever seen one.

Ignoring the unsubtle gesture, he pressed, “Answer the question, Changkyun.”

“Ugh, fine,” the kid whined, “but at least eat while your food’s hot.”

“Not until you answer.”

“But auntie will be so sad if you don’t!”

“No, she won’t.” Hyunwoo smirked wickedly as he uncrossed his arms and leaned forward to rasp, “Especially if I tell her she can feel—“

“I USED MY DS!” Changkyun blurted out in a rush.

There were a lot of things Hyunwoo had come to learn not to question in his life, but this? He almost couldn’t believe he’d heard right. “Your DS? A Nintendo DS?” he repeated.

“Yeah,” the kid nodded as he poked at a couple garlic cloves.

“Show me.”

“But my proprietary secrets, hyung!”

“Not your hyung, kid,” he huffed while he picked up a couple perilla leaves before adding, “and I will only eat once you show me.”

“Damn, you drive a hard bargain...but okay! I’ve actually been kinda dying to show you all night,” Changkyun admitted sheepishly as he reached inside his jacket. He dug around all the various innerpockets for a bit before he produced a clear Nintendo DS, the sight of it bowling Hyunwoo over with an intense wave of nostalgia. “I rigged it so it’s hooked up to my systems at home so I can hack on the go. And play games. Mostly hack. I use my Gameboy to play games. It’s super retro. I can show you—”

Hyunwoo, having seen all he needed to see, shoved an entire wrap into his cheek and interjected, “You wanna meet Kiki?”

“Only if he has a sister— a cute sister!”

Hyunwoo chuckled around another mouthful and shook his head. “No sister, but he’s got a job for you.”

“A job?”

“Highly illegal, highly dangerous. You in?”

[nola-unchained]

✧ ( CRIMINAL  MINDS  SENTENCE  STARTERS.

warning:  death, murder, loss mention. change pronouns to your liking/as you see fit!

❛ Are you a genius or something? ❜ ❛ You look too young to have gotten into medical school. ❜ ❛ When you look long into an abyss, the abyss looks into you. ❜ ❛ Imagination is more important than knowledge. ❜ ❛ Knowledge is limited; imagination encircles the world. ❜ ❛ Your girlfriend thinks you’re going to break up with her.  ❜ ❛ I was a little bit of a nerd. Is that so surprising? ❜ ❛ Do you think it’s weird that I knew that ballad? ❜ ❛ Do you think that’s why I can’t get a date? ❜ ❛ We’re looking for a needle in a haystack. ❜ ❛ I got a list of things I want to try before it’s too late. ❜ ❛ What is food to one, is to others bitter poison. ❜ ❛ Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves. ❜ ❛ If I told you that, what would I have left for myself? ❜ ❛ It is those we live with and love, and should know, who elude us. ❜ ❛ What could you possibly learn that you don’t already know? ❜ ❛ In the end, it’s not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years. ❜ ❛ I have other options besides shooting a man. ❜ ❛ The test of the morality of a society is what it does for its children. ❜ ❛ Do you ever ask yourself how you make a decision like that? ❜ ❛ What’s happened to that boy in the year I stopped looking for him? ❜ ❛ I mean, how do you give yourself that kind of permission? ❜ ❛ A year ago, I gave up on looking for him – there were so many other kids. ❜ ❛ Look, I know this job is important to you, but we’re important, too. ❜ ❛ That makes it sound like the bandit’s doing the stripping. ❜ ❛ Although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of overcoming it. ❜ ❛ You tend to forget, don’t you? ❜ ❛ You really are afraid of the dark. ❜ ❛ It’s not so important who starts the game, but who finishes it. ❜ ❛ It’s not really the kind of thing that happens around here, you know? ❜ ❛ Ever talk to someone who wants to continually show you he’s smarter than you?  ❜ ❛ If men could only know each other, they would neither idolize nor hate. ❜ ❛ In order to learn the important lessons in life, one must each day surmount to fear. ❜ ❛ What if it’s not? What if next time he kills somebody? ❜ ❛ All secrets are deep. All secrets become dark. That’s in the nature of secrets. ❜ ❛ We all have secrets. Would you want us profiling you? ❜ ❛ We all have secrets. ❜ ❛ You trying to say something to me right now. ❜ ❛ Only if you’re hiding something. ❜ ❛ Are you saying I had nothing to do with making you who you are? ❜ ❛ To get away with murder, you simply don’t tell anyone. ❜ ❛ Call me first. I’d love to pick your brains. ❜ ❛ My hope is that one day you’ll feel the way I do too. ❜ ❛ If I ever find myself feeling the way you do, I’ll kill myself. ❜ ❛ Tired of people using religion… to justify the terrible things they do. ❜ ❛ Fantasy abandoned by reason produces impossible monsters. ❜ ❛ An earthly kingdom cannot exist without inequality of persons. ❜ ❛ It is a wise father who knows his own child. ❜ ❛ Within the core of each of us is the child we once were. ❜ ❛ If we knew each other’s secrets, what comforts we should find. ❜ ❛ There are no secrets better kept than the secrets that everybody guesses. ❜ ❛ Reason is not automatic. Those who deny it cannot be conquered by it. ❜ ❛ I think the truly natural things are dreams, which nature can’t touch with decay. ❜ ❛ Let us consider that we are all insane. It will explain us to each other. ❜ ❛ Cleanliness becomes more important when godliness is unlikely. ❜ ❛ Delay is the deadliest form of denial. ❜ ❛ The strength of a family, like the strength of an army, is in its loyalty to each other. ❜ ❛ In youth we learn; in age we understand. ❜ ❛ Fate is not satisfied with inflicting one calamity. ❜ ❛ We all live in a house on fire. No fire department to call, no way out. ❜ ❛ Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes they win. ❜ ❛ To lose a child is to lose a piece of yourself. ❜ ❛ How many more times will they be able to look into the abyss? ❜ ❛ Sometimes there are no words, no clever quotes to neatly sum up what’s happened that day. ❜ ❛ There is no lasting hope in violence, only temporary relief from hopelessness. ❜ ❛ I’m so sorry for your loss. And if you or your son need anything… ❜ ❛ Life is a game; play it. Life is too precious; do not destroy it. ❜ ❛ If I am what I have and if I lose what I have, who then am I? ❜ ❛ Oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive. ❜ ❛ We will find you, you sick son of a bitch! ❜ ❛ Is that another promise? ❜ ❛ Whatever you are, be a good one. ❜ ❛ Without heroes, we are all plain people and don’t know how far we can go. ❜ ❛ I am invisible, understand, simply because people refuse to see me. ❜ ❛ I can’t talk you out of this. It’s a great life. ❜ ❛ There is no such thing as part freedom. ❜ ❛ Come near my team and I will end you. ❜ ❛ When I let go of what I am I become what I might be. ❜ ❛ The grave soul keeps its own secrets and takes its own punishment in silence. ❜ ❛ It is not his enemy or foe that lures him to evil ways. ❜ ❛ Sometimes human places create inhuman monsters. ❜ ❛ Bring the past only if you’re going to build from it. ❜ ❛ What it lies in our power to do, it lies in our power not to do. ❜ ❛ Nothing inspires forgiveness quite like revenge. ❜ ❛ You may leave school, but it never leaves you. ❜ ❛ Everybody wants to go to heaven, but no one wants to die. ❜ ❛ Three can keep a secret if two are dead. ❜ ❛ At the gambling table, there are no fathers or sons. ❜ ❛ Where there is anger, there is always pain underneath. ❜ ❛ Nothing fixes a thing so intently in the memory as the wish to forget it. ❜ ❛ All that we see or seem, is but a dream within a dream. ❜ ❛ Death ends a life, not a relationship.  ❜ ❛ There is no terror in the bang, only in the anticipation of it. ❜ ❛ The universe doesn’t like secrets; it conspires to reveal the truth to lead you to it. ❜ ❛ Fear is pain arising from the anticipation of evil. ❜ ❛ Alone we can do so little; together we can do so much. ❜ ❛ Forgiveness does not change the past but it does enlarge the future. ❜ ❛ A mother’s arms are made of tenderness and children sleep soundly in them. ❜ ❛ The past is never dead. It’s not even past. ❜ ❛ A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it. ❜ ❛ Deep vengeance is the daughter of deep silence. ❜

[jeonggukingdom]

under the spell of a demon’s touch (m)

▽ Pairing: Jimin x Reader

▽ Genre: incubus!AU, angst, smut, fluff the holy trio

▽ Summary: You had believed, for your entire life, that creatures of the underworld were only a myth but you were proven wrong by the existence of Jimin. He is, according to his definition, a smaller type of Fae called Incubus. A creature of sex. Someone that can only live and strive as long as his sexual appetite is satiated every day. And Incubi are known in all of their myths to be insatiable and ravenous creatures. ↳ alternatively: sending all our souls to rot in hell.

▽ Word Count: 14.872 words

▽ WARNINGS: graphic depictions of sexual intercourse, cheating, cuss words, dirty talk, blindfolds, handcuffs, oral sex, name calling, choking, hair pulling, butt plugs, spanking, rough sex, window sex, squirting, anal, vibrators.

The building stands tall in front of your eyes, rows upon rows of seemingly endless windows all uniform in their anonymous simplicity.

Your heels tap on the white linoleum floor of the hall full of people walking haphazardly to finish the assignments of the morning before their lunch break starts.

You walk through them with calmness in your steps, chin held up high as you reach the elevator, a bag full of food in your free hand.

There is a smile stretched on your lips and it is due to the thought of the pleasant lunch you are about to have with your lover — a surprise you are quite sure he is going to appreciate.

The ride up to his office is long and you take it as a chance to check yourself in the mirror at your back. Your hair is tight in a ponytail, just the way he likes it, and you’re wearing that black pencil skirt he has bought you for your birthday, the one he says that makes your ass look amazing — which is potentially the very reason why you are wearing it today — and a burgundy blouse to match your lipstick. The food you are carrying, honestly, is just an excuse to barge in his office without anyone suspecting your true intentions — which would be to leave a nice bright red ring around his cock — but still give a sign that you are not to be disturbed.

The elevator dings happily as you arrive at the last floor and you briskly walk the empty corridor, barely glossing over the empty seat at the secretary desk, assuming she has probably already left for her break.

Oh, how wrong you were.

The first sign of your misjudgment comes from a strangled moan behind a closed door. A sound you would recognize amongst thousands. You should turn on your heels and go, forget this ever happened and return to your regular activities but something urges you forward and you keep walking, almost in a trance and, before you can realize what you’re about to do to yourself, you slowly open the door.

His office is pearly white and the light reflects on it, almost turning it painful to the eyes but the real burn comes from what your gaze immediately focuses on.

He is standing right by his desk, a hand grasping the edge of it to keep him balanced while the other is lost between her long and usually sleek hair now reduced to a tangled mess.

His black pants are gathered at his feet, right with his briefs and his head is tilted backward in pleasure.

He sighs and moans for her just like he would with you and that is what hurts the most. Knowing that you aren’t special at all, not when it comes to pleasure. You’re just like this other girl between his legs, doing what you would have been doing now if you had arrived a few moments earlier.

Park Kyungri wears her hair in a high ponytail, just like you, and she wears it like that every single day of her life and now a part of you wonders if it is to please him, if it’s because she knows how good it will feel when he tugs on them to guide your head and adjust your movements to his pace.

She has nice lips and they are firm around his cock while her head bobs to the pace he prefers which leads you to believe this is far from being their first time together and it makes you wonder: what are her thoughts when she sees you come to visit him? What does she believe of you? That you are naive and unaware? Or she simply doesn’t care?

As all these thoughts spin in your head all at once, you see his eyes open and, almost if solicited by an unknown force, they settle on you, standing right there at the corner of the room and if this were to be a normal relationship he would jump now, surprised, he would spring to action and try to justify himself. But yours ain’t a normal relationship at all.

He stares at you, mouth agape, and a part of you believes it excited him to know you are watching him, that you are witnessing how he crumbles under another female’s touch.

There is sweat on his forehead, making his black hair stick to his skin and he looks painfully handsome like this, semi-naked and lost in pleasure.

You see it in his features before even he can realize it: the moment the wave hits him and he is coming all over her face.

His firm abdomen contracts and his loads falls into her mouth, trained to gather every single drop, and that is when you decide it is time to leave.

You turn your back on the scene, close the door behind your back and simply leave, as you were never there to begin with.

For a moment you wander around the top floor, unsure on where you should go right now because you know you have no right to be upset but, at the same time, you are not ready to face him just yet.

In the end, you opt for the small balcony at the other end of the building and sit on the first bench you see, trying to work some appetite back so you can at least pretend what you just witnessed didn’t affect you. The key word, of course, is pretend.

There was a time when you were younger and inexperienced, when you believed stuff like this would never happen to you because you were too smart and you loved yourself too much. Of course, you had been proven wrong many times.

Back then you would have never imagined that you would fall in love with Park Jimin, young CEO of Shoreline Park & Affiliates, and that you would put your ego to the side just in the name of love. No, you would have never imagined you’d fall under the spell of a demon’s touch, that you would be caught in its web and rendered unable to ever leave.

You heave out a sigh, the Subway sandwich feeling stale in your mouth when your head is consumed by bitter thoughts, and give up on lunch altogether.

You imagine she must have gone to her break by now, dismissed after her wonderful work where he needed it the most and you consider the idea of going back inside, act like you just arrived and, honestly, on any other day you probably would. But not today. It just hurts a little bit more today.

Before you know it and before you can stop them, tears are falling on your cheeks and you rush to the end of the balcony, fixing your eyes on the fast pace of the city beneath your feet just in case somebody finds you there. Nobody needs to know, not even him.

You think back on the first time you saw him, at a meeting between your companies. You were a simple secretary back then, doing your job with enthusiasm, always ready to learn. He was already at the head of his company and he was as handsome back then as he is now. He had this charismatic aura around him and it felt like you weren’t the only one affected by it.

He had a magnetic smile and gentle eyes. He knew how to make you feel at ease while still exuding the power that came with his position.

When he had asked you out for a drink you had thought of rejecting or, later on, that you would absolutely refuse any sexual innuendos from his part. You knew that type of guy: they have money and power, they think they can have you just like that because you are worth less than their shoelaces and they won’t take no for an answer. But Jimin was different. So different. He cared, he was genuine and he barely touched you during your first dates together unless you expressed your permission by doing the first move. He was respectful and gentle and he had slowly caught you in his web and before you could pull away and save yourself, you were hopelessly and utterly in love with him.

Months after came the truth, shattering all your beliefs on the world you had always known and, of course, on your whole relationship.

Jimin showed you his true nature, as he liked to call it, and you should have been scared or understand back then that it was too much for you to handle. But you stayed, because you loved him. Just like you stay today, for the very same reason.

You had believed, for your entire life, that creatures of the underworld were only a myth but you were proven wrong by the existence of Jimin. He is, according to his definition, a smaller type of Fae called Incubus.

A creature of sex.

Someone that can only live and strive as long as his sexual appetite is satiated every day.

Much like Vampires that feed on blood, Incubi feed on sex and the energy of their lovers which, therefore, leads to the impossibility of any of them being monogamous.

You know all of this, you have known it for years now yet, it doesn’t get any easier. You can’t be mad at him because you know, one lover will never be enough for an Incubus. Not now, not ever. But you still can’t stop the hurt from blossoming in your heart whenever you see, or hear, or find a token of a fleeting lover abandoned in your house.

You take a deep breath and force the tears back in, quickly drying your cheeks to wipe out any sign they were ever there. It hurts, it will never stop hurting, but you don’t want to see the flash of guilt in his eyes again. You saw it so many times in the past and you know it breaks him too to know he has hurt you. You have loved each other for years, passionately, and in most of your up and downs, the main problem was always the same: his cheating, your hurt, and his impossibility to change things.

His body is not only yours to have, but that doesn’t mean his heart isn’t. That’s what you repeat to yourself like a mantra, over and over again, and it is right at that moment, when you are finally calm, that you hear the sound of faint steps behind your back.

The air feels thick in the confinement of his office and with frustration, he loosens the tie around his neck to try and focus on the papers in his hands rather than his little problem in his boxer briefs. It always happens like this: out of the blue the need comes and takes him by surprise, rendering any other thought inconsequential until he can get exactly what his body craves for.

He fights it for a few moments, trying to distract himself, trying to avoid his thoughts to go there but, in the end, it is with trembling fingers that he calls his secretary in his office and before he can even try to think about changing his mind, to send her back and hold it in, her lascivious mouth is nicely wrapped around his cock. The pleasure is immediate and it abates the sense of guilt that comes with having another woman that isn’t his girlfriend between his legs.

Just as he thinks of her and how beautiful she looked that very morning, kissing him goodbye before he had to leave for work, she materializes inside his office. Her eyes are beautiful and they shine but not with the happiness he is accustomed to and, immediately, comes the regret for his actions.

He’d like to take a step back now, to stop his secretary from working him to completion but he can’t resist the urge, the way his body screams for his release to happen, every cell in his body drinking up the energy coming off of his current lover. So he stays there and stares at her without a sign of the shame he feels growing inside of him alongside with the bliss.

He comes like that, looking at the woman he loves while fucking the mouth of another and, as soon as the wave of pleasure dies down, all he can feel is loathing for himself.

He doesn’t remember dismissing his secretary nor getting his pants back up, too focused on her, the love of his life, gone as fast as she appeared.

He wonders around the top floor, relentlessly looking for her with a heavy heart because he simply knows, it must have hurt her a little more today. He could see it in her eyes.

She always smiles, she always acts like it doesn’t matter, like it doesn’t even exist, this need he has of multiple lovers, but he can see it all the time she catches him or feels a scent or finds something that someone else has left behind and he can see it in the way she chews her lips nervously, in the way she talks about nonsense just to avoid the silence or to dismiss the elephant in the room or in the way unshed tears gather in her eyes and she blinks them away before he can say something about them. And it kills him, every time.

When he finally finds her he exhales, immensely grateful for the fact that she hasn’t left him. She always stays but there is this part of him that constantly fears the day she’ll leave him, fed up with his kind of life, with his... nature.

“Hey, baby,” he speaks softly and she turns, a shy smile on her features as she pushes the hurt back down, away from his prying eyes.

She kisses him sweetly, eyes fluttering close, but there is an uncertainty pending from her lips and he knows she is wondering if he has kissed his secretary, if his lips are tainted by her as well as his cock is.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” he says, and his words hide others between the lines. If you had told me I would have waited, I wouldn’t have made you see it. But of course, he doesn’t speak those because he doesn’t want to hurt her further, to slid the knife back into her already bleeding wound.

“I wanted to surprise you,” she says in a whisper, her gaze drifting off of him and on the bench behind his back where their lunch still awaits, almost untouched.

“Are you ok, baby?” He asks, kissing her forehead as he welcomes her in his arms. He usually doesn’t ask, he knows she doesn’t want him to, but there is something different in her eyes today, a hurt that runs deeper than usual and he can’t shake it off as he normally would. He can’t keep ignoring all the pain he causes her, hiding it under piles and piles of sweet words and void gestures.

“Of course, why do you ask?” Her voice trembles as she says so and her body stiffens because she hates when her voice does that, when it betrays her while she tries to stay strong, to stand upright and not show him all the cracks he has caused on her once pure and intact heart.

“____,” he softly calls her name, hands resting on her shoulders to look her in the eyes and that is all it takes to bring the tears back and it shatters his heart in a thousand pieces. But he deserves to feel this, he is the cause of it after all.

“Baby,” he whispers and he hates how broken he sounds because he has no right to be hurt or to show her his pain, it is not her fault. He is the sole criminal and she is the victim, “I’m sorry.”

She shakes her head ‘no’ because, of course, she knows he can’t help it, that this is what he is and what he will always be but it doesn’t make it any easier, for neither of them.

“It’s ok,” she says, caressing his cheeks lovingly.

“It’s not and I’m sorry,” he closes his eyes to rest his forehead on hers, inhaling deeply to try and steady his rampant heart, “But remember that I love you, only you.”

She nods her head ‘yes’ and more tears come down her eyes and he’d do anything right now to make them stop, to make the ache in heart disappear and vanish forever.

“I know,” she says and she kisses his lips, the only part of him besides his heart that belongs only to her. He never kisses his other lovers because if he could, he would have only her in his bed for the rest of his life but he can’t so he saves what he can for only her to have.

“I love you, too,” she adds and he opens his eyes to watch hers, shining and beautiful as the first time he saw them, staring at him from across a room full of strangers.

Despite the love he feels right now, despite the happiness she gives him when they are together and nothing else exists, he often thinks back to that day he asked her out for the first time and curses himself for ever doing so.

Because if he never did she wouldn’t be here right now, crying because he has fucked another woman, hell, plenty of other women, because of what he is.

He should have known better back then, he was raised knowing that it wasn’t possible for someone like him to ever have a family or to be faithful. He was warned. But he decided to ignore everything and now an innocent heart is paying the consequences of his choices. Because he fell in love, because he couldn’t stop before it was too late, because he wanted her like he never wanted anything else in his entire life.

“Jimin?” she softly calls his name and he hums in response while caressing her hair lovingly, “Can you bring me back home?”

He is taken aback by her request but he complies nevertheless, eager to grant her all she wishes for.

“Of course,” he says, interlacing his fingers with her own and giving her a gentle smile which she doesn’t return, her face suddenly serious and devoid of any sign of affection and, for a moment, Jimin fears the worst.

“Can you take the day off?” she asks, her gaze falling to her feet, eyebrows knitting together as they always do when she is uncertain about something.

“I can if you need me to,” he replies, taking her other hand in his with a frown on his face, “Is there something wrong?”

She shakes her head ‘no’ and lifts her gaze back on him, “For the rest of the day, I want to be your only lover.”

The door closes behind your backs and you can barely hear it go back in its hinges before your lover's hands are firmly pressed on your hips, pulling you closer to his body so he can rest his lips right above your ear.

“Did you wear this skirt on purpose, dirty girl?” he asks, voice husky as his lips tickle your lobe, his breath hot against your skin and you hum, tilting your head back to give him better access to your neck.

“You had bad intentions today, didn’t you?” his tongue darts out of his plump lips and it licks the soft skin right under your ear, teasing you for what is yet to come.

You sigh and your body relaxes in his embrace, your back pressed against his chest and you close your eyes, nodding your head ‘yes’ in response to his question.

“And what exactly did you have in mind, my dirty little girl?” he presses further, his lips sucking on the tender skin in a way that is bound to make purple roses blossom there in the night.

You hum and open your eyes, turning your head slightly so you can look inside his languid onyx eyes.

“I bought this new lipstick this morning and I wanted to see how it would look around your cock,” you watch the lust pass in his eyes like a falling star, quick but unmistakable, and he grumbles in your ear while his hands move from your hips down to the supple curves of your ass to give it an enthusiastic squeeze.

“Still feel like showing me what your pretty mouth can do?”

The question hangs in the air for a few moments before you eagerly nod your head ‘yes’, a brand new feeling taking over your usual desire to give him pleasure. No, right now, you not only want to bring him pleasure but you also want to be the best one to do it. You want to make him forget that the mouth of Park Kyungri was ever there between his legs, you want to make him regret having hers there instead of yours. You want to beat her and re-claim him as yours, only yours.

“Yes, sir” you whisper, assuming your role of full compliance so he knows exactly where your intimate desires reside at and, trained by years spent together as a couple, he wastes no more words on the matter before he is undressing you.

His hands work with expertise on the zip of your pencil skirt and it falls at your ankles in an instant, revealing the burgundy laced panties you have chosen for the occasion.

There is a moment of silence before he hums in appreciation and his hands start roaming on the expanse of your thighs and ass, giving little tugs and squeezes every now and then.

“Like what you see?” You ask, boldness in your voice while blood rushes in your cheeks at the way his hands keep coming closer to your core but always careful not to brush you where you would need it the most.

“Very,” he concedes, standing up on his feet to help you out of your blouse so he can witness the entire lingerie set you have bought just for him.

His hands grab your hips and turn you around so that his eyes can scan every inch of your skin, stopping a few seconds more on the curve of your breasts, barely covered by the laced bralette and then down between your legs where the panties are absolutely transparent and do nothing to conceal your sex nor the excitement already building there.

He bites his bottom lip while humming in appreciation of your very flimsy attire, lust flashing through his eyes as he takes you in anew.

"What a little dirty girl you are," he says, voice husky with what you can recognize as desire while his gaze fixes on the inconceivable wetness of your untouched core.

You tilt your head to the side and part your lips, eyes slightly closed with a sultry look designed to drawn him closer.

"I am, indeed," you say in a whisper, voice as deep as your yearning for his body on top of yours.

Your right hand caresses your neck and you start swaying your hips suggestively, your fingers slowly tracing down your clavicles and the curve of your breasts, taunting him until he is stepping closer, eyes glued on you and your slow movements.

His hands are quick to caress your body with new found fervor and you feel the fire of his touch scorching your skin, asking every molecule in your body to answer his call and turn your body aflame with desire.

The touch of an Incubus feels intoxicating and it clouds up your mind until all thoughts abide and all that is left is the deep craving for pleasure.

His mouth finds yours and you close your eyes, abandoning yourself to the sensation of being kissed by him like this, half-naked and ready to be taken until your body can no longer stand.

His tongue feels like flames inside your mouth when you part your lips for him and it draws out a moan out of you. Goosebumps arise all over your skin and you shiver in his touch as he guides you closer and closer to his body until no boundaries exist between you aside from his clothing.

His growing excitement is pressed against your swelling mound and you can't help but swing your hips towards his, hoping for a little friction. A gesture that grants you an hiss from his part.

"You're so eager for my cock, aren't you?" He asks, panting on your lips as he opens up his eyes, his dark gaze boring into yours.

"Yes," you whimper out with another rolling of your impatient hips, "I want to taste all of you."

He groans and bites your bottom lip, dragging it down and you hiss in both pleasure and pain that is quickly dissolved by his tongue, lapping the burn away.

His fingers trace your back with slow movements as he kisses your breath away and with expertise, they unclasp the hooks of your bralette.

The flimsy fabric falls on the ground, already dismissed and forgotten once his mouth can kiss the feverish skin that was concealed under it.

His tongue is relentless as he covers up every inch of the supple flesh and you inch your head backward, a silent moan twisting your features as he engulfs your already perking nip with his swollen red lips.

It feels like heaven to be held like this, kissed like this, and you feel yourself craving more and more with each ticking second, the anticipation building in your stomach almost unbearable as he touches you everywhere but between your legs.

"You taste so fucking good," he mutters under his breath as his hands grab your hips and turn you around so he can press his clothed sex on the curve of your ass.

"Do you feel that, baby girl?" He asks, his breath on the curve of your neck, "Nobody gets me as hard as you do," he confesses in a breath and you mewl at his words, your insides twisting with excitement and happiness for this is all you ever wanted. To be the one.

"I want to make you cum in my mouth as you scream my name," you confess, closing your eyes as you picture the moment in your head and he grunts in your ear, thrusting his hips into yours.

"Stay right here," he says, voice thick with excitement and you do as he says, quickly disposing of your heels by throwing them somewhere far away in the living room.

The first thing you feel as soon as he comes back is the feeling of cold metal pressed at the side of your hips.

You tilt your head towards him and smile as you put your arms behind your back, giving him the silent permission to handcuff you.

The feeling of constraint is not foreign to you and in fact, it only serves as a propeller for your already uncontainable desire.

"On your knees," he orders and you quickly follow suit, your ass hitting the back of your feet as you look up at him, ever the compliant companion.

His eyes are dark with lust and you can see in his pupils all the dirty things he wants to do to you, all the ways he wants to taint your body and you can't help but squirm on your spot, rubbing your thighs together at the sole thought.

There is a playful smirk on his swollen lips as he undresses for you, piece by piece, with controlled slowness designed to make you so eager you'd even beg for him.

He unfastens the buttons of his shirt one by one, his eyes never wavering from you and you drink up every inch of his exposed chest as he does so, marveling at the firmness of his stomach and the sculptured abs. You imagine yourself touching his exposed skin, licking and biting his soft him until he is marred with your markings.

He bites his bottom lip as he discards his belt on the ground and sways his hips seductively, knowing oh-to-well the effect he has on you as he does so.

You find yourself holding your breath as he unfastens the button of his black pants, sliding them down until all that is standing between his full erection and you are his boxer briefs.

You can already see it in the confinement of his underwear, the outline of his cock, and you lick your lips in utter anticipation making him grunt in response.

He removes his boxers in a haste and you watch his length ricochet towards his abdomen in all its hardness.

His head looks almost painfully red and moist with pre-cum and he engulfs his cock with his hand, giving it a little pump to prepare himself for you.

"Are you ready, baby girl?" he asks, voice hoarse with desire and you open your mouth in response, tilting your head upwards to meet his gaze.

His cock slides between your lips and on your tongue and you close your eyes, trying to adjust around his incredible girth and he hisses as you gulp down and consequently suck on his head.

You open your mouth more, allowing him to push between your lips until you can fully encompass him and, truthfully, is a slow process because his length has no equal and it takes a while for you to adjust and not suffocate on his otherworldly dick.

You open your eyes to fix your gaze on him and you pump your head forward, pushing him completely inside of you until you can feel his pubic hair prickle your nose and his head hit your throat.

"Fuck," he hisses and his mouth falls agape with the immediate wave of pleasure you endowed him with.

His left hand grabs your nape to keep you steady and he slowly rocks himself inside your mouth, sighing every time you hum around him, sending vibrations all over his girth.

"You feel so good, baby girl," he whimpers out, his eyes fluttering shut as you close your lips together as much as you can, squeezing his length to suck him hard and make him tremble.

His other hand cradles your cheek, encouraging you to keep your pace and bring him under, make him quiver with your name on top of his lips.

The way his features contort with pleasure with every movement you make is enough to fuel you, to make you bolder and stronger in your movements, making you disregard completely the slight burn in your throat with the effort to keep him going, to get him coming in your mouth and all over your face.

"Fuck, baby, don't stop," he whimpers, unable to control himself as he starts fucking your mouth, keeping you steady in his hands and you allow him, relaxing your jaw so that he can use you as he pleases.

Saliva is trailing down your mouth and on your chin and your eyes prickle with tears as you struggle to breathe but you don't stop, not when you can feel him twitching in your mouth, not when you can feel the large vein on his cock rubbing deliciously on your tongue. It is intoxicating.

He pants and mewls your name, head inched backward and eyes shut close as his abdomen starts constricting, his pace getting sporadic as he fights against his own release, not willing to let go just yet.

You hollow your cheeks around him and he moans deeply, the sound of your name ricocheting through the walls in a way you are quite sure won't fall unnoticed by your neighbors and the thought excites you all the more.

He comes like that, with your name hanging on his lips, and you gulp down all you possibly can, almost chocking in your endeavor to not spill even a single drop.

"Shit, baby," he pants as his cock leaves your mouth and his grip around your hair and face loosens up but remains there, turning into soothing caresses while you try to catch your breath. Your attempt of doing so, though, is quickly overrun by the feeling of his mouth on top of yours and his tongue, relentlessly searching for his own taste mixed with yours behind your plush lips.

The kiss is sloppy, all tongues and teeth, and all you wish for is for your hands to be free so you can roam them on his body or let them loose in the strands of his hair.

"Are you okay?" he asks in a whisper as he regains control of himself, and you nod your head as he caresses your cheek lovingly, gazing into your eyes.

"Want more", you hoarsely say, pressing your thighs together in search of friction, not oblivious anymore to the excitement coiled between your legs now that you are not so focused on him anymore.

He chuckles under his breath and the tension in your shoulders disappears as he unfastens the handcuffs, briefly freeing you from your position before he his placing them at your wrists anew, this time bringing your arms in front of you and you already know what is going to happen. He loves watching you squirm, scream and beg for him to make you cum and as he takes you in his arms, guiding you inside the apartment and towards the massive black marble table in your bedroom, your initial thoughts are confirmed.

The surface is cold against your feverish skin and you shiver as he lays you down on the table, guiding your arms towards the little hook hanging from the ceiling, an addition to your bedroom made for times like this one.

You open your legs for him, stretching them wide so you can watch him shift his gaze from your face to what was hidden between your legs.

He hisses as he notices the wet patch on your lingerie, your arousal almost dripping down your core and he launches between your legs, his nose inhaling the scent of your excitement.

His breath is hot against your wet mound and it sends a shiver down your spine but it does not compare to the feeling of his mouth, encompassing your sex through the flimsy underwear.

"Jimin," you plea, breathless.

"Yes, baby?"

He pulls your underwear to the side and you watch him smirk at the lewd sound the wet lingerie makes as he moves it aside before he is licking his lips in anticipation. He looks like a famished man ready to consume his first meal in days and it is a sight that makes your insides contract painfully.

"I want to feel your tongue all over me, please," you whimper out, your head falling backward as he breathes above your swollen and needy lips.

He hums and you can almost feel the vibrations hit your core which makes your hips buckle forward.

"In a minute," he says, kissing your inner thigh before leaving you there, his eyes glinting with mischief.

You watch him walk away from you, dick bouncing with a new erection against his abdomen and you can't help but focus your eyes on the perfect curve of his ass, sculpted by the Gods nor you can help imaging biting down the supple flash, tint it in an angry red that spills out your name in clear letters.

It is a thought that makes your mouth water and you impatiently grunt, watching him rummage through your toys drawer eager to see what he will bring back.

You recognize it instantly: the black velvety blindfold, star of many of your sexual encounters. A clear sign that Jimin is not out to play today, no, he is out for blood.

Your throat constricts and you wet your lips as he blinds you, careful to not tie it too tight but still enough for you to be unable to escape the deprivation of your sight.

The world seems to stop as it turns into pitch blackness and you can feel your other senses stretch, trying to compensate for the missing one.

Suddenly, everything seems louder around you and you can hear his breath, the slight shift in his movements as he falls on the ground right in front of your dripping sex, the way he takes in air before encompassing your mound with his plump mouth.

This sensation alone is close to set your whole body aflame and your back arches towards the ceiling, your mouth falling agape with the unexpected wave of pleasure.

His hands come to rest on the underside of your thighs, keeping you firm and spread for him as his tongue darts out of his lascivious mouth.

He gives you a tentative lick, tongue flat against your folds, and you sigh in response, tilting your head to the side already feeling your body turning into nothing but jelly.

He kisses your sex like he has kissed your lips and you can already feel the energy being drawn out of you to feed his insatiable lust. Your breath turns ragged, your lips quiver and your head falls backward: your entire being surrenders to him and his deathly tongue, turning your core into his meal for the day.

The lapping of his tongue catches up speed and turns deeper, sleeking between the folds and then rolling around your clitoris until you’re a moaning mess with tears menacing to fall on your cheeks out of pure bliss.

“Jimin,” you whimper out his name and his lips kiss your wet ones, humming against the swollen flesh, “I need more, please.”

You feel him smirk on your skin, his breath ghosting over your folds and you know he enjoys this way too much. The way you will crumble and scream and beg for him, the way you have no fear or shame in asking for what you seek the most. And that is why he always happily complies to your very wishes.

His tongue pushes past your lips, invading your core with one swift movement. Your breath gets caught in your lungs and your back arches again, a mewl escaping from your parted lips as you can finally have him inside of you, even if it’s only a little part of him.

His tongue curls inside of you, hitting your inner walls with calculated precision and you feel yourself madly contracting around him.

You can almost picture how good he looks right now, enclosed by your legs, eating you out as if you were his last meal on his last day on earth. It’s an image that makes you whimper out and wish this blindfold would untangle itself so you could witness it in reality. But you cannot deny how the sensations between your legs are tenfold amplified by its presence and that fact is clear when he starts fucking into you with his tongue, relentlessly lapping your juices, and it feels like being shattered into thousand pieces and transported to heaven itself.

Your diaphragm spasmodically contracts, knocking the air out of your lungs, and you start panting loudly, chanting the word ‘yes’ with strangled whimpers that only turn him bolder in his movements.

“I’m-I’m, ah!” The world turns white, your ears start ringing loudly and your hips arch in the air, thighs quivering with the orgasm that washes over you.

You almost cannot feel your body once the high dies down and you’re flat against the hard table. Yes, it feels almost as if you are an incorporeal being, made out of only pleasure and contentment.

His plump lips against your cheek are the first thing you feel once your breath has considerably calmed down and you tilt your head to the side, searching for his face almost forgetting entirely the existence of the blindfold around your eyes.

"Hey," he whispers in your ear and his careful hands untangle the velvet cloth from behind your head, finally releasing you from one of your confinements.

"Hey," you whisper back, voice hoarse as you blink your eyes, trying to adapt to the light of the apartment again.

He is a few inches away from your face, looking at you as if you are the most precious treasure in the world.

He kisses your jawline, softly, dragging his movements down on your neck and it immediately sparks the fire back in your body, making you crave the blissful feeling of pleasure all over again.

"Are you up for round two, baby girl?" He asks, almost reading your thoughts and you mewl in response, spreading your legs up wide for him again.

"What a little insatiable dirty girl you are," he whispers atop your lips before kissing them roughly, biting down the battered skin until you moan for him.

"No blindfold," you say as he departs from your swollen lips, searching for his eyes, "I want to look at you as you make me come, please."

"You want to see all your pretty juices dripping down my chin?" he asks, his hands caressing the sides of your body and you bite your bottom lip in response, whimpering something incomprehensible even to yourself.

"I'll make sure to not leave even a single drop out," his voice is raw with passion as he says this but you have no time to respond to his dirty words because his mouth is already lapping at your aching core.

He eats you out almost ferociously, barely breathing between your folds and you feel the pleasure build up in your stomach quickly, turning you into a moaning and quivering mess.

This time his tongue and lips are entirely focused on your bundle of nerves, sucking, encompassing the little trigger of your arousal until you are threshing on the table, arching your back in a silent request for more.

His fingers intrude your sex almost unexpectedly but your previous orgasm and the excitement he has nicely build back make it easier for him to sneak his digits in and curl them inside of you.

"Fuck," you hiss, your head hitting the table almost painfully as your body relaxes at the sensation of being stretched way further than his tongue did.

"Does it feel good, baby?"

"Y-yes," you muster a whimpered response whilst he introduces a third finger inside of you, adding to the pressure in your stomach.

His movements are slow and calculated, carefully designed to loosen your walls enough to accommodate his cock shortly.

His eyes are dark as onyx as he stares at you, relentless in his ministrations, and your mouth falls agape in a silent moan as he picks up speed, guided by all the little reactions you give him in return.

His lips are tight around your little mound, sucking on the bundle of nerves whilst his hands move fast in and out of you, frantically chasing your climax to make you scream his name again and, God, you do.

Something snaps inside of you — your body trembles with deep waves of utter pleasure, your vision turns completely black and you fall lax on the hard marble table. For a moment, all that exists is the pleasure and the sound of his name leaving your mouth.

"Baby," his voice is distant as he calls your name but you still respond, tilting your head to the side and opening your eyes though you didn't realize you had closed them in the first place.

His hands are soft and gentle again, freeing you of your last confinement and you're suddenly made aware of the burn in your arms as you regain control over them.

"How are you feeling?" He asks, caressing your chest and stomach with soothing figures eight.

"Amazing," you say in return, seeking his lips to share a gentle kiss.

"Good," he hums to himself before taking you in his strong arms, lifting you from the table to guide you to the much softer expanse of your bed.

You feel your body relax on the fresh sheets and your eyes close as soon as your head is resting above the cushion. His touch is gentle and it makes you feel like clay, being molded by his fingers into whatever he sees fit for himself.

"Drink this," he says, lifting your head to guide your lips to the glass of water that has materialized in his hand. You realize you must have dozed off at some point without even realizing it. A side effect, you'd say, of being the lover of an Incubus: the more you concede yourself to him the more your energy shifts from your body to his. Where he is reinvigorated, you are drained. Yet, you love every second of it.

The water is a nice relief and it seems to bring some of your energy back, making your body feel more like himself or, at least, enough to attend to his evident needs.

His cock is fully erected between his legs, almost painfully so, and if the angry red of his head is anything to go by he must be desperate for his own release.

He follows your gaze while discarding the now empty glass on the bedside table and smirks, tilting his head to the side as he gives himself a little stroke.

"Are you still up to the task, my love?" He asks, lifting his eyebrows in a suggestive manner and you nod your head in response, biting your lips for good measure.

"I'm always ready for your cock."

Your left hand encompasses your swollen and still dripping sex, your eyes boring into him to watch the fire light up inside his eyes at the suggestive act.

“My dirty little slut,” he groans, turning your body upside down so your face is flat against the mattress and he has you at his complete disposal.

His hands guide your hips upwards and you arch your back for him, shaking your ass to taint him further, an act that grants you a little smack on the supple flesh.

“You have no idea what I’m going to do to you,” he whispers above you, his eyes dark as he stares at your dripping core and you mewl for him, your insides twitching into nothing but pure air at the only mention of his dirty fantasies coming reality.

You hear the sound of a bottle being opened and then the familiar smell of vanilla that belongs to your favorite lube.

His hands start rubbing the skin of your bottom cheeks, soothing you until you are fully relaxed and ready to welcome the sensation of his fingers, spreading the lube in and out of you.

Your brows knit together as soon as one of his fingers enters your hole and you exhale a hard breath, preparing yourself for the deep stretch you’re out to get.

His finger is delicate inside of you, curling ever so slightly to give you pleasure along with the slight burn and you reward him with little sighs every time he does so.

The lube does a great job in helping him slide a second finger in and your hips buckle almost instantly at the arousing feeling of having him so deep inside of you.

“Does it feel good, baby girl?” He asks, his free hand pressing on your back to keep you nicely arched for him, allowing him to thrust his fingers further inside of you.

“Yes,” you whimper, rocking your hips backward to meet his pace. Another smack lands on your ass and you cry out loud, feeling the arousal between your legs slick down your thighs.

You protest at the sudden feeling of emptiness that comes with his fingers leaving your insides but it is a sensation quickly subdued by the deeper stretch of a lubed butt plug.

Your eyes close immediately and you hold your breath, feeling every inch of the toy slither inside of you ever so slowly. The discomfort is only initial and you find your walls adapting to the foreign object quite quickly, allowing you to relax and enjoy the deep stretch inside of you.

“Beautiful,” he hums and you wiggle your ass in response which, of course, grants you another spank on your now inflamed skin.

"Jimin," you call out his name with a sigh, turning your head so you can glance at him, still staring at your sex, "I want you to fuck me, now."

The neediness in your voice mixes with the deep growl escaping his mouth and his firm hands are grasping your hips anew, pulling you back until you're forced to stand on all fours, allowing him all the access he needs. He guides his cock to your sex and you can't help but shiver as soon as you feel his skin touch your folds, nicely gathering all your juices before penetrating you. He pushes his head into you, slowly, and his girth leaves you breathless for a moment, your walls immediately contracting around him at the sensation of fullness his cock gives you. Your hands are flat against the mattress and you use them as leverage to push back, trying to meet his length and push him further inside of you. Your head tilts backward as your walls stretch blissfully around him, welcoming him until he's almost completely sheathed inside of you and you are whimpering his name, asking him for more. The first push of his hips is slow but deep and it makes your body lunge forward. The second push of his hips comes faster and deeper and you almost lose your balance under the pressure of his strength. The third push is neat and hard against your pleasure spot and it makes you moan his name loudly. His hands come to rest on the small of your back, keeping in place your ass as he guides you down to meet his hips so he can pound into you while aiming at the same spot, over and over again. "Harder, f-fuck, harder," you whimper out and he quickens his speed, his hips smacking against yours with such force your arms give out and you fall flat on your face. "Look at you taking my cock like the dirty slut you are," he groans, grabbing your hair to pull your head back so he can look inside your eyes. "Y-yes, I'm your slut, ah," your voice is hoarse and you struggle to push the words out while he relentlessly fucks into you, stealing your breath away with every push of his hips. His grasp on your hair tightens and you are forced to keep your neck arched for him enough for his other hand to reach your neck. The pressure of his fingers around your throat comes almost instantly and you close your eyes, feeling your face become hotter with the sudden lack of oxygen. Your mind becomes fuzzy and you feel yourself pant out loud, the arousal between your legs growing harder as you feel yourself contracting madly around him. "Fuck, you feel so fucking good, baby," he whimpers out as he leaves your neck, allowing you to breathe again and push you forward until you're completely flat against the bed and he's on top of you, fucking you senseless. He senses it coming before you do and he bites down the skin of your shoulder, slowing down his movements to make sure he can hit your pleasure spot with all his might and, for the third time that night, the orgasm makes your body quiver and swepts the world away in a haze of white. You can still feel him inside of you, rocking his hips forward as he chases his own release but you can barely utter a single word as you try to come down from your own high. "I'm so close, uh, " he grunts in your ear and you push your thighs together, purposely contracting your walls around him until he's coming into a cacophony of swear words. His movements slow down as he milks out his release and when the overstimulation starts becoming too much for both of you he falls flat atop your body, breathing hard against your back. "Damn it, baby girl," he whispers, moving to your side so he can hold you close to his chest. You tilt your head up to watch him in the eyes and he gives you a gentle smile, kissing your sweaty forehead as you both struggle to calm down the rampant beating of your hearts. You completely turn towards him, pressing your bodies together and that is when you realize his cock is still as hard as when you got home earlier that afternoon. "You're still hard," you say in a whisper, your hand traveling atop his abs before encompassing his length to give him a little pump.

He whimpers instantly at the sensation of your touch and you take it as a cue to keep on moving your hand up and down, slowly, until the risk of chafing him becomes real and his eyes are closed in deep bliss.

You slither down his body, caressing his torso as you travel downwards, your gaze fixed on the treasure between his legs.

Your mouth opens to welcome all of him past your lips and he groans loudly.

“Baby,” his voice is strangled and his abdomen contracts as you hollow your cheeks around him, sucking him hard.

“I want to fuck you until even your cock can’t take it anymore,” you confess atop the now sleek head of his cock and he growls at the lascivious ideas your words have planted in his head.

“Then do it,” he says, his hands grasping your hair to tug on them almost painfully, “Fuck me.”

The way he speaks those two words, voice husky and deep, turn your entire body aflame. He doesn’t need to speak those words twice before you are straddling his hips, your thighs tight around his sides, and you are aligning yourself to his rock hard cock.

Your folds open for him, welcoming him with the squelching sound of your juices mixed with his cum still sheathed inside of you. The sensation alone makes him moan loudly and you take it as a cue to let your hips fall on him with one swift movement, your walls stretching around him until he’s balls deep inside of you.

“Fuck, baby, you take my cock so well,” he whimpers out, eyes closed and bottom lip trapped by his teeth as he struggles to not rock his hips against yours. For once, he wants you to be in control and, for once, you want to be the one bringing him down and not the other way around.

You want to rejoice in the feeling of being able to unravel him, bring him to heaven and back. For once, your own pleasure comes in second place.

You place your hands above his chest and you start rotating your hips around him, tortuously slow so you can hear him sigh and whimper and watch his eyes open with a silent request reflected in those dark irises.

“Jimin,” you softly call out his name and he hums in response, watching you with his mouth slightly parted, “Don’t look away from me,” you whisper and you lift your hips until he’s almost completely out of you only to fall on top of him again, this time with new-found strength.

You lift your hips again and smack them down on him, the sound of your hips colliding making you both moan at the same time.

You arch your back and place your hands right under his knees to angle yourself and relentlessly fuck into him.

The sounds your bodies make are lewd and you can’t help but whimper yourself as you push him in and out of you quick and hard, chasing his release.

“Ugh, I’m close, baby, fuck,” a deep moan fills his mouth and you whimper in response, the sound making your walls pleasurably clench around his length.

You push your body forward, falling on top of him to cradle his face with your hands as you keep pounding onto him.

You kiss him harshly, dragging his bottom lip down until you can feel the taste of copper in your mouth and then you lick all the pain away, engulfing all his panting breaths with your lips.

You can feel his body starting to tremble and you sink on him harder, hitting your pleasure spot in the process.

You whimper out his name whilst looking inside his eyes and that seems to be the setting stone on his grave for as soon as the sound leaves your parted mouth, he comes in hot spurts inside of you, filling you up to the brim.

You have no time to chase your own orgasm or to milk his own away for his arms press you flush to his chest and before you can realize what is happening, he’s standing on his two feet, dragging you across the room.

You struggle to keep your balance as your feet touch the floor, your ears buzzing with the sudden movement and your head feeling as light as feathers.

Your eyes settle in front of you and you’re welcome with the view of the city landscape, visible from the big window in your bedroom.

His hands grab your arms and lift them up and you let him guide you, foretasting what is about to happen.

The feeling of the straps hanging from the ceiling is familiar and it makes your insides clench. This, is your favorite spot. The idea of watching the world outside your window as he fucks into you, the idea of somebody seeing you like this, they excite you beyond limit.

“Tell me how badly you want me to make you come,” he says above your ear, pushing you forward until you’re standing right in front of the window, your forehead almost touching the glass.

“Please,” you whimper out, pushing your hips backward to grant him an easier access to your sex.

He squeezes your cheeks together and you heave out a breath as you feel the butt plug leaving your now stretched hole. You turn your head as much as your position allows you to, studying his expression as he looks down at your gaping hole.

Your thighs rub together in anticipation, the imaginary feeling of his cock filling you up again enough to arouse you more but you’re met with a smirk and the sound of the lube bottle being opened again behind your back.

You barely have the time to process what is happening before you feel the hard and bigger toy move past your hole and stretch you further, preparing you completely for his cock.

Your eyes close and you let out a whimper at the burning sensation between your cheeks, blood rushing through your face in the effort to keep still and let the lube do its job.

The new butt plug is wider in girth from the previous one and the sensation of the toy completely inside of you is enough to make your legs quiver and turn your abrupt breaths into hasty sighs.

“Fuck me raw,” you whimper out, your forehead touching the cooling surface of the window and he forcefully grabs your hips, angling you to his cock.

“As you wish, my dirty girl.”

He’d usually move slowly into you, allowing you to adjust to his wide and long cock but this time, when you’re so full of cum and your own arousal you could fill up a glass with, he simply pushes right into you, stopping only when he is balls deep inside of you and you’re squirming under his touch, the burning feeling and the pleasure mixing nicely until you’re not sure where one stops and the other begins.

He pushes you forward until your body is completely flat against the glass, the cooling surface making your nipples perk up and a shiver run down your spine.

He fucks into you slowly, just like this, allowing everyone who can look out of their windows to see you completely naked, being owned from behind.

“Do you like that, baby?” He says in a breath, strangled by the effort of keeping his pace strong and heavy between your legs, “Do you like being exposed like this? Letting anyone see what a dirty little slut you are?”

“Yes”, you whimper out, pushing your hips back to meet his, searching for that scorching feeling of release you so desperately need.

He bends his legs slightly, guiding you with him and you sink right onto him, allowing him to push inside of you further and find your pleasure spot again.

His fingers are tight around your hips and you feel the skin bruising up there in the form of his digits, and the thought of being marked like this, of being possessed to such an extent that anyone would know with a single look at you that you are his, makes your insides burn with desire.

You feel him twitch inside of you, a signal that he may come again like this, before you’re granted your own release and you tilt your head backward, searching for his eyes.

“Jimin,” you whisper softly and he looks up at you, grabbing your hair until you’re arching your back for him and he can successfully pound into you.

The head of his cock brushes against your bundle of nerves and you moan out his name, closing your eyes at the blissful sensation.

“There, right there, fuck, don’t stop.”

The new position allows him to repeatedly hit your cervix and, consequently, the trigger to your pleasure.

Your legs quiver as the new wave of arousal washes over you and a strangled moan leaves your mouth as your whole body is set aflame, your juices flooding out of you as your orgasm manifests itself in the form of a squirt.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” your voice has turned into a shriek as he keeps pounding into you, milking out all the juices you have to give and just as you’re about to cry out of overstimulation he comes too, stilling his movements whilst his cock twitches inside of you, releasing his orgasm.

Your knees buckle as your high washes out and you’re sure if it weren’t for the straps holding you up you would have fallen to the ground, completely and utterly spent.

His hands turn gentle again and they encompass your body as he frees you of your confinement and gathers you inside his strong arms.

His voice is barely above a whisper and you can hardly make out any of the words he speaks but you know, they all come from a place of love.

Your eyes are closed by the time you’re lying on the bed again and you don’t open them even when he’s guiding your lips to a new glass of water to make sure you won’t pass out on him anytime soon.

“You’ve been so good tonight, baby,” he says, kissing your forehead after a while and you finally open your eyes, taking your time to watch his face, flushed with blood and serene with the contentment.

“What if I want more?” You croak out, tracing his face with a finger and he shakes his head ‘no’ a couple of times.

“You’re exhausted,” he says and his words do imply that he is not, that his hunger is not sufficiently satiated just yet and you hate your humanity in this moment because it doesn’t allow you to keep up as much as you want to.

“I want to be your only lover, at least for one day. You promised” you whisper, your gaze falling to his chest and then down to his cock, still half-erected between his legs.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, kissing your temple before guiding your face upwards to look inside your eyes.

“Then fuck me,” you say, pulling on his neck until he’s close enough for you to kiss him breathless.

“Baby,” he warns you, concern laced in his gaze and you hate it. All you want to see there, for just this one night, is love, passion, desire.

“I want you,” you say, voice shaky as you roll your hips to meet his own, “All of you, everywhere inside of me.”

He grunts as your abused core brushes against his half-erection and he stills your movements with his hands, searching for your eyes.

"Baby, if you do that again I won't be able to control myself," his voice trembles as he says so and you purposely roll your hips onto his again.

"Then don't," your voice is husky as you speak those words, your tone laced with sultriness.

He curses under his breath, shaking his head as he pushes your body down, straddling your waist with his toned thighs.

"You'll be the death of me, baby girl."

His mouth falls on your swollen lips and you sigh into him, closing your eyes as his tongue claims yours anew. Oh Lord knows if you could, you'd do only this for the rest of your life. Kissing him, making love to him, being forever close to each other and attached by the hips, mouths touching every breathing moment of your lives. Yes, you'd live like this. You'd gladly lose yourself into him and a part of you knows, he'd do it too if he could.

"Spread your legs for me, baby," he says in a hot breath atop your lips and you quickly abide, allowing him to take a look between your legs.

It is a mess of juices and cum still flowing out of you and the sight makes him whistle in admiration.

"You look so beautiful like this, so amazingly fucked and full of me."

You lock your gaze on him and your hands travel between your legs, teasing him as you gather your own juices and spread them around your swollen labia.

He curses under his breath and smacks your hands away with a warning look on his face.

"Wait here," he says, quickly leaving the bed, "And don't you dare touch yourself!" He shoots you a look before he's rushing to your toys drawers again and you bite your bottom lip in anticipation, your heart hammering in your chest with trepidation.

You can see a glimpse of bright pink in his hands before he is turning towards you, almost running back on the bed as a kid who found the treasure he was looking for and, truthfully, the vibrator held in his hand is quite the gem.

The toy is in the shape of a rabbit and your mouth waters only looking at it, already quite accustomed to the devastating effects of its precise work.

"Turn around," he orders and you follow suit, standing on all fours to grant him the perfect view of your battered bottom cheeks and your wet core.

His fingers are hot as they caress your inner thigh, guiding your legs to spread them wider and as soon as the vibrator comes in contact with your entrance you jolt on the spot, overly sensitive to any little touch.

"Relax baby, I'll make you feel really good," he says, kissing one of your cheeks as he pushes the toy inside of you, little inches at a time. The rabbit vibrator is not excessively long but the stretch feels nice nonetheless and, honestly, the best part is the second rabbit hear precisely angled atop your womanhood.

"Ass up, baby girl," he orders as soon as the toy is sheathed inside of you and you do as he says, resting your head on the bed with a hand keeping the toy firm inside of you.

He kisses your bottom cheek again whilst his fingers work around your butt plug, removing it slowly so that your hole is still gaping for him when it is removed.

The scent of vanilla invades your nostrils and you bite your lips in anticipation as you feel him align to your sex, nicely coated in lube.

The head of his cock moves past your walls, slowly inching forward so you're allowed to adjust and accommodate around him but the lube and the previous stretch do really make it a fairly easy job. The slight discomfort and burning feeling are quickly mitigated by the yearning for pleasure and he pushes himself forward until he's almost completely inside of you.

"Turn it on, baby," he whispers behind your back and you don't let him repeat these words twice before your pushing on the side button of your vibrator, quickly maneuvering around the settings as he instructs you to.

The vibrations hit you like waves and you whimper almost immediately, grabbing the sheets beneath you with your free hand.

He slowly pushes inside of you, testing the way you feel around his cock and you sigh in pleasure at the slight movement.

He whimpers behind your back as he pushes himself out of you before smacking right back in, sending jolts through your spine and up his hard cock.

The sensation of him moving in and out of you and the pulsating waves of the rabbit toy is almost too much already and you start panting loudly, struggling to keep yourself anchored and not just give in to the pleasure.

His little moans in your ears seem to only add fuel to the fire and you start bouncing back onto him, meeting his speed at full force, mind clouded by the menace of your impending release.

You start to whimper in the form of his name and he increases his speed, searching for his own release while granting you yours.

"Make it faster, baby," he instructs, voice strangled from the effort and your trembling fingers reach for the setting buttons of the toy stimulating your core. The waves get stronger and you moan loudly before grabbing the sheets with your teeth, strangling your own sounds as he fucks deeper inside of you.

Your eyes roll back inside your head and your toes curl with the new wave of orgasm that encompasses you completely.

Your whole body jerks under him whilst he keeps relentlessly fucking into you, making sure you keep cumming all over your abused bed sheets.

"Fuck, I want that pussy to cum all over my cock," he groans behind you and he stills his movements, grabbing your hips to turn you around.

His eyes are almost ravenous as he watches the state your core is reduced to and he angrily pushes the vibrator away from your sex, attaching his mouth on your lips in its place.

You arch your back to the ceiling, head falling backward, and you call out his name in a strangled moan, squirming under the touch of his covetous tongue.

“I-I want to come with you,” you whimper out, slightly closing your thighs to make him stop before he sends you to Heaven once more.

“As you wish,” he whispers with one swift lick of his tongue and you shudder as he lifts your body up to push it up against the nearest wall.

Your legs hook around his hips and your fingers grab fists of his hair as he pushes himself past your lips and all inside of you in one single thrust.

“Don’t come until I tell you to,” he says, kissing your lips one last time before he starts pounding into you.

Your noses brush together with each and every stroke of his length inside of you and you start to pant atop his parted mouth, eyes unwavering from his.

The position you’re forced in allows him to push up high inside your walls and hit your cervix with utter precision, stimulating your pleasure spot with ravishing thrusts that draw out mewls and sighs out of you.

“Harder,” you whimper, tugging on his hair until he groans in both pain and pleasure, thrusting faster inside of you.

“Ah, keep going, fuck, yes” you mouth falls agape and you close your eyes, feeling your body twitch with the beginnings of a release you are not allowed to give in to just yet.

His lips kiss your own, ferociously, all teeth and tongue and you pant into him, whispering his name on top of his mouth until he’s completely breathless and struggling to keep his rhythm inside of you.

“Baby,” he softly calls for you and you lock your gaze onto his again, “I love you,” he says, quickly placing a kiss atop your lips.

“I’m all yours,” he adds, with another quick peck, “I’ll always be only yours.”

His words bring tears to your eyes and you nod your head ‘yes’, hugging him closer to your chest until not even air can stand between your bodies melting all boundaries between your separate existences.

“Come for me, baby girl,” he whispers into your ear and, just like magic, his words draw the final straw to your resistance and you come for him, clenching all around him until he’s coming too, filling you up till you’re sure your body can’t take it anymore. It is utter bliss.

Your eyes feel stuck by glue as you try to pry them open and you slowly become aware not only of your surroundings but also of the aching spread out in your entire body.

Muscles sore, bones heavy and very little energy are the feelings you wake up to and, as soon as you can make out the outline of what is in your peripheral vision, his smile is what welcomes you back into the world.

“Hey,” he says before planting a kiss on your forehead, hugging you closer to his chest which, you realize, is what you used as a cushion for the entirety of the night.

“Hey,” you croak out, throat hoarse with the effort of the deep and loud moans that escaped your mouth for the entirety of yesterday’s evening and night.

“How are you feeling baby?”

You close your eyes and wince as soon as you try to move and readjust your position in search for a more comfortable one.

“Like crap,” you admit, opening your eyes to look into his again. You can see guilt flash in his eyes and your heart shrivels in your chest.

This is why. This is the very reason he has to cheat on you and seek pleasure into other women’s mouths and between other women’s legs. You are not enough.

You are quick to realize that even the task of standing up or walking on your own would be too much to ask and for a moment, all you wish for is to fall back asleep and drown in sweet dreams all the bad thoughts swirling in your mind.

“Hey,” he softly calls you again as soon as your eyes close and you open them back up, shivering in his embrace, “Stay with me, baby.”

You move your head up, embracing his hips with your sluggish arms to push him closer and you stay just like this for long minutes, looking into each other’s eyes with silent apologies reflecting in them despite the fact that, really, neither of you blames the other in the slightest.

It happens just like this.

In his embrace you can suddenly feel the tension in his muscles —  so incredibly stronger and more invigorated by your salacious activities in the night —  and the shift of his body so that your hips are no longer as close together as they were a few seconds before. And of course, it only takes a quick glance from your part to notice the erection between his legs.

You think to yourself that it would be easy to attend to his needs, to open your mouth and suck him off until he’s satiated but the truth is that your body can’t take it anymore. Not for today, not when all your energies have been gathered and drained from your mouth to his in the form of that lifeblood he so desperately needs to survive.

Your eyebrows knit together and you look up at him, your lips quivering as unshed tears cloud up your vision because you know, he will have to leave you like this. He will have to seek another woman while you stay in bed alone, waiting for him to return with her scent all over his skin. And you can’t fucking take it anymore. Not today, maybe not ever anymore.

“I’m sorry... I can’t...” you whimper pathetically in his embrace and he hugs you closer to his chest, silencing you with his lovely whispers.

“I know, baby, I know, it’s ok, I don’t need anything.”

You shake your head and take in a hard breath, knowing oh-too-well that his words are lies. You did this before, once, and it was enough to prove to the both of you that some things cannot be changed.

He tried to have you as his only lover and it ended up almost killing the both of you. You, because you couldn’t give him anything more and him, because you simply didn’t have enough to give. There is absolutely no winning in a situation like this.

“Yes, you do.”

”No, I’m perfectly fine right now so there is no need for you to worry about me.”

He gives you a gentle smile before quickly kissing your lips, ready to move on from the painful subject.

You know your pain is like a sharp sword, twisting and cutting the tender flesh of his already deep wounds and, really, you do hate to see all those dark emotions swirl into his eyes but, at the same time, you simply can’t keep going on like this, ignoring all your emotions, bottling them up in hope they will be eventually forgotten. They won’t magically disappear, they didn’t yesterday, they are not now, and they will never dissipate.

“Jimin,” you whimper out, taking his wrist in your hand as he gets up from the bed.

He stays silent, his eyes wandering off everywhere except your face and, closed off in his own muteness, he gathers you in his arms, lifting you up to guide you to the kitchen.

“You need to eat something first. You need some energy back.”

He tries to play off the loving boyfriend part as he usually would but you notice the tension in his jawline, the stiffness in his body and the fake happiness in his voice.

“I’m not hungry, I want to talk.”

He turns around and looks into your eyes, his gaze suddenly stern and you wince under it, biting your bottom lip in shame for, with one quick look, he has made you feel like a kid throwing a tantrum.

“We can talk later.”

It is with reticence that you drink up your coffee and eat up the warm bagel he prepares for you and you do it because you know he’s right, you do need all the energy you can get from a proper meal which is something you realize you didn’t have ever since yesterday morning.

You sigh as you finish gulping down the remnants of your breakfast and you lift your gaze to look at him, feeling your insides churn with anxiety.

“You should go taking care of...” your gaze shifts from his face to the evident tent in his sweatpants, “Problem.”

“I already told you I’m ok,” he says, his voice stiff as he takes your empty plate and cup away, turning his back on you.

“Jimin, we both know you can’t resist the whole day like that,” you hate the fact that you raise your voice or the way you sound when you speak those words, especially after the amazing day you spent together yesterday but you still speak them, because they are the truth and you care for his well being, maybe even more than your own.

“Why are you so eager to send me to another woman?” He asks with rage in his voice, turning around to fix his fuming eyes on you, hurt flashing through them.

“I’m not! But I can’t pretend you won’t sneak out at some point and fuck some random girl you met at a bar!”

You get up from your seat, ignoring the way your head spins as you do so, and he takes a step back, evidently hurt by your vicious remark.

“I’m sorry,” he simply says, his gaze fixing on his feet and your heart breaks at the sight of his face, twisted into one of guilt and sorrow, and it is worse because you know you planted those emotions there.

“I think we should...” his voice trails off and panic shoots right through you, taking your breath away.

“Don’t say it,” you whimper, hot tears falling from your eyes and down to your cheeks.

“I don’t want to keep hurting you like this,” he lifts his gaze to the ceiling and you notice his lips trembling as tears fall on his face as well, “I can’t...” he gulps down, trying to gather his thoughts but evidently failing to do so.

“Don’t leave me,” you walk the distance between your bodies with quick steps to take his hands into yours, grabbing them with all the strength you can muster.

“We can’t keep doing this. I can’t be only yours... Look at the state you’re in today... I could have killed you!”

He shakes his head and frees his hands from your grasp, briskly walking past you, his mind already made up on what he thinks he has to do to save you both.

He’s almost at the door when you realize that once he is gone through it he won’t be coming back.

Your sobs are loud and they shake your whole body, menacing to wrench it open, unhinge all the bones you’re made of and leave you in pieces on the floor, crying your heart away.

“P-please d-d-don’t leave m-me,” your whisper is as broken as you feel while falling on your knees. It is pain like you have never felt it before. It’s in your heart, it’s in your head and it’s everywhere else and it makes you wonder if somebody can die out of nothing but pure torment.

Warm arms suddenly surround you, like towers made for protecting you and keep everything that can hurt you out of reach.

There are lips kissing your head and a sweet voice humming in your ears but for the longest of times, you do not recognize any of these as his.

Your heartbeat slows down in your chest, your panting breath returning to a more regular fashion as this strong body keeps rocking you back and forth, pacifying you.

“I won’t, I won’t, I’m sorry I said that,” that voice speaks those words chanting them like a mantra and it makes your eyes look up, searching for its owner’s face.

“I’m sorry, baby, I just wanted to make it better, I’m so sorry.”

Jimin.

You move inside his arms to hug him close to your chest, your grasp tight around him in fear he may disappear soon if you let go of him.

“I love you, I’m sorry.”

Jimin.

You kiss his lips desperately and he hugs you closer, dragging you on top of his body.

“Don’t leave me,” you whisper on his lips and he nods his head, softly kissing your lips.

“I won’t, I swear I’ll be yours for as long as you’ll have me.”

Your hands caress his face and you close your eyes, exhaling loudly as you try to gather your thoughts.

“Can we... can we set some rules?”

“I’ll do whatever you want me to,” he quickly says, not even stopping to think of what your words may imply, “As long as you are happy, I can do everything.”

Your heart swells in your chest, blooming like flowers under the warm sun.

“I don’t want to know when you meet someone else.”

“Ok.”

“You won’t bring them here so I won’t see them or find something they have left behind.”

“Ok,” he nods his head for emphasis and you stroke his hair back away from his forehead.

“No sex in the car and not in the office either because I could see you there and I also don’t want to smell another woman on you. No marks either.”

It does sound absurd to remove all the proves that he is lying with other women when you already know he will on a daily basis but, as people always say: out of sight, out of mind.

“One last thing,” you add, pecking his lips, “Your mouth is only for me to kiss. Promise me.”

“I never kiss them,” he shakes his head, kissing the sides of your mouth with tenderness, “My lips are only yours, just like my heart.”

He promises all those things with soft kisses on your mouth and on your supple flesh; he reminds you of how much he loves you with every tender stroke of his fingers on your skin as he washes you in the shower and when he massages the sore muscles and most importantly when he slowly makes love to you during the night in the dim light of lit candles; he proves it to you staying the entire day by your side whilst promising you he will do so every weekend of his life for as long as you’ll be together for, just for a couple of days, he can and he will be completely and utterly yours.

Copyright © 2018 by jeonggukingdom. All rights reserved.