#My strategy on lighting is 'fuck around & find out'

[itischeese]

He's so small when you put him up against all he's lost.... Happy (late) birthday, Kakashi!

[cutielando]

game night | l.n.

synopsis: in which game night gets a little too competitive

a/n: based on this request!

my masterlist

As the winter break finally came around, Lando had made plans for him, you, Max and Pietra to take a trip to the mountains, just the four of you.

Which is how you guys found yourselves nestled comfortably in a cabin deep into the Swiss mountains, chatting it up and just enjoying the quiet atmosphere that the off-season provided you with.

But, knowing Lando, he couldn’t stay still for more than an hour at times, and would always find something else to do.

Just like he did now.

“I’m bored” he had announced, groaning and throwing his head back against the couch.

You chuckled, knowing he would have said that sooner or later.

“So?” Max asked, looking up from his phone at his friend.

Lando was silent for a moment, contemplating about how he could cure his sudden found boredom.

“Let’s play a game or something” he suggested, his eyes lighting up.

"Like what?" you asked, your hands running through his curls softly.

He pondered for a moment, his eyes glancing around the cabin living room before his eyes landed on a shelf full of board games.

Not saying anything, he jumped up from his spot on the couch next to you, beelining for the shelf to analyze what he was working with.

"Let's play Monopoly" he said, his eyes twinkling as he took the box in his hands and rushing back to sit down next to you.

You, Max and P all groaned in unison, the last thing either of you wanted was to play Monopoly with Lando.

Lando stopped in his tracks, looking at the three of you with wide eyes.

"What?" he asked, his shoulders deflating.

"Mate, you know how you get whenever we play Monopoly" Max said, glaring at him.

He pouted, looking at you for support.

You bit your lip and shrugged, making him gasp.

"You too?" he asked, looking at you with a hand over his heart.

"Baby, I love you, but you know how competitive you get whenever we play" you said, trying to be as gentle and nice as possible.

"But I want to play..." he said, pouting and looking at the ground.

You sighed, shaking your head as you exchanged looks with Max. Both of you knew Lando was playing the both of you, wanting to make you feel bad for not wanting to let him play.

Max sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Fine, we'll play" he muttered, making Lando erupt into a wide smile as he sprinted towards the coffee table to lay everything out.

You laughed at his antics, shaking your head fondly.

"I wanna team up with P" you called out as she took your hand.

Lando whipped his head around, staring at you with betrayal written all over his face.

"What? Why? We always team up together" he said, his eyes sad.

He almost made you change your mind, but flashbacks of past game nights with Lando made you stand firm.

"That's exactly why we should change things up a little bit" you argued, trying to keep his spirits up.

He pouted, glaring at you while setting up the board. He kept it up for a minute or two longer before he sighed and nodded.

"Fine, but just this time" he said, pointing to you.

You nodded and leaned over to kiss his lips quickly before you got and moved so you were sitting next to Pietra.

Lando huffed once again before he finally let go of his anger and instead focus on "discussing strategies" with Max.

As the night went on and the game was in full swing, Lando's competitive side slowly started to show itself when Max landed on one of your properties and had to pay you almost all the money they had.

"MAX! What the fuck, mate? You just walked right into their trap!" Lando shouted, pushing Max as he stared at him with wide eyes.

“I can’t control the fucking dice, now, can I?” Max argued back.

You and P, on the other hand, were trying not to laugh, finding the exchange between them too funny.

They continued to bicker like this until late into the night before you called it quits on the game.

Instead, you were now snuggled up on the couch with Lando, the fireplace doing a fantastic job of warming you up.

The world around you was silent, the only sound echoing through the warm cabin being the crackle of the fireplace.

Lando was staring at the crackling fire, his hand playing with the ends of your hair.

Looking down at you, he noticed that your eyes were shut, your breathing evened out as you peacefully slept on him.

Smiling a little, he pressed a soft and gentle kiss on your forehead, whispering a quiet "I love you" as he let himself succumb to a peaceful sleep.

Dreaming of you.

...and beating you at Monopoly.

comments and re-blogs help us grow!

much appreciated!!

REQUEST HERE

[mxstellatayte]

hiiii ! could you write a part 2 for the charles and the vibe fic?

YIPPEE!!

i was gonna write it anyways but now i have an excuse to do it!

warnings: this is pure filth, threesome (mmf,) p in v sex, unprotected sex (DONT DO THAT,) mirror sex, carlos is an ass guy, charles is a boobs guy tho, kinda exhibitionism?, creampie, sex under the influence kinda?, it's all consensual though!

all you wanted to do was tease charles. all you wanted to do was see how much you could tempt his resolve before it would crumble. you had no idea it would result in getting eaten out in the bathroom and then promptly realizing that carlos had heard the whole thing and had covered for you and charles.

in exchange, carlos wanted to make even on a bet that he and charles had made at the start of the 2023 season.

monaco. february 10th, 2023.

"what do you think the odds are that one of us wins a race this year?"

charles looked up from the chessboard, his eyebrows furrowing. "what do you mean?"

"i was looking at the red bull and mclaren numbers and our car splits them. we have a fighting chance this year, so do you think one of us will get a win this year?" charles moves a rook, taking one of carlos' pawns.

"it depends. if my entire radio just sounds like 'we are checking, we are checking' and i have to make my own strategy and tyre calls, maybe. if xavi learns basic engineering and communicative skills or gets replaced altogether, i'd say yeah, there's a chance."

"you wanna bet?"

"what are we betting?"

carlos hesitates, then looks up when he hears the door opening. something clatters in the closet before you can be heard cursing quietly, then rearranging the fallen shoes onto the rack. eventually, you come through the doorway to the living room, and, when you see carlos, your face lights up.

"carlos! cómo estás?" (how are you?) you walk over and lean down, kissing his cheek in greeting.

"bien. un poco nervioso para bahrain, pero el carro maneja fantástico este año. y vos?" (good. a bit nervous for bahrain, but the car drives amazing this year. what about you?) you walk over to the kitchen while he's talking and pull out ingredients to make yourself a bowl of yogurt and berries- your favorite snack to have after work before you take your pit bull out for a walk.

"i'm alright. the marketing team made a stupid mistake so i had to do some damage control that took way longer than it should have, but i know martin is going to give them absolute hell tomorrow for it, so at least it doesn't reflect badly on me." your bowl clinks on the countertop as you sit down at the island and take out your computer, your headphones that were previously resting around your neck being slipped over your ears. "i've got some emails to write for an upcoming content creator collab we're doing, so i'll be in my zone. you guys know the drill?"

charles nods. "hermit mode?"

you smile, slipping the second speaker over your ear. "hermit mode."

a few moments pass before carlos speaks again. "are you okay with betting her?"

charles' eyebrows raise. "what do you mean?"

carlos makes his move on the chessboard. "if i win more races than you this year, i get her for a night. if you win more races than me, you can use me for a night. however you want."

the thought of his teammate and closest friend getting to fuck you lights a fire inside of charles, and while he wants nothing more than to agree to the bet purely for the stakes of it, he needs to check in with you first. "can i run it by her and get back to you on that?"

carlos nods. "just get me an answer by bahrain so we can figure something else out if she doesn't want to do that."

italy. february 3rd, 2024.

you had forgotten about the bet. charles and carlos had not.

now, just minutes later, you find yourself with your back once again against the wall, but this time you're staring into carlos' eyes while he fingers you gently, your legs wrapped around his waist and charles leaning against the vanity facing both of you. your eyes unintentionally flick over carlos' shoulder to your boyfriend who is an absolute mess. he's palming himself over his slacks, and you can tell just from the flush in his face that creeps down to his neck and the way his eyebrows are pinched together that he likes what he sees. before you can eye-fuck him the way you know he likes, carlos pulls his fingers out of you and you whine, but he carries you over to the vanity and taps your ass to get you to let go. "spin around, amor. let me see that beautiful ass of yours."

this is a side of carlos that you've never seen before, and it would be a lie to say that it's not hot. without a second thought, you spin yourself around so that your back is resting against his chest and your ass rests against his crotch. "come on, hermosa. bend over." as slowly as you can, you lean forward, resting your hands on the vanity and grinding yourself against him and you swear you can feel his dick twitch inside of his own black slacks. as soon as your forearms are fully resting on the granite vanity, carlos runs his hands down your back and to the front of your legs where he pulls the scarlet fabric of your dress to gather on your left side, the slit opening so that your entire ass is exposed. "no panties?" oh. you forgot about that.

"i kept them for good measure," charles says, pulling them out of his pocket. "you want 'em? you might have to shut her up. she never stops moaning."

"i know. i heard everything. you two are lucky i was the one outside and not anyone else. now," carlos says, taking your panties from your boyfriend and shoving them in his pocket, "do you feel like returning the favor?"

the whiskey you'd downed earlier is taking its effect, and you can't help but bite your lip and nod. normally, you wouldn't be nearly as confident as you are now with someone other than your boyfriend having you in the position you're in right now, but you trust carlos and frankly, you're too turned on to care. charles is in the same room and you're both comfortable enough in your relationship that it's okay. "yes, carlos. i'll return the favor. whatever you want." as you're talking, you can hear carlos unbuckle his belt and unzip his slacks, and when there's finally one layer of fabric between the two of you, carlos reaches into his jacket packet and pulls out a condom. before he opens it, though, you pipe up, your voice embarrassingly breathy and high. "i'm clean and on the pill. don't waste it if getting me pregnant is your only concern."

"are you sure?" carlos says, glancing over at charles. your boyfriend only responds with a shrug and points his thumb at you.

"whatever she says. you're the one fucking her."

carlos doesn't waste a second setting the condom on the vanity, pulling his slacks and underwear down his thighs just enough so that it's comfortable, and pushing into you. you have to bite your lip and cover your own mouth to prevent yourself from moaning too loudly, the stretch from carlos being so different to the one you're accustomed to with charles.

when you look up, carlos' head is thrown back and his hands grip your hips so tight his knuckles are white. it might be the hottest sight you've ever seen. "carlos." your voice is whiny, and you're shocked you can even get his name out.

"hm?"

"fuck me, please."

"are you sure?" his voice lilts in the way you're used to hearing, but this time, there's something slightly different about it. maybe it's the fact that he's currently buried inside of you, his hips flush with your own, or maybe it's the fact that every time you move your head to look up at him, your cunt squeezes around him so perfectly he fears he might cum within three thrusts, but either way, you feel so, so perfect.

"positive. now please. fuck. me." slowly, carlos pulls his hips back before pushing into you, slowly increasing his pace until every time his body meets your ass, you're shoved forward slightly on the counter and your breasts bounce forward, almost falling out of the low neckline of your dress.

"mierda, amor, tienes un coño hecho para mi," (shit, love, you have a cunt made for me,) carlos groans out, pulling your arms back and holding them with one hand while the other goes to hold you up by your neck. the restriction to your windpipe makes your head spin and the new angle has carlos' entire cock running against your g-spot with every thrust. you're able to wiggle your hands free, your left hand reaching back to tug at carlos' hair and your right goes down to rub circles around your clit, making you tighten around carlos' dick, and the combination of the pain from his hair being pulled and your cunt spasming around him makes him tip over the edge.

the feeling of carlos filling you up in turn sends you into your own orgasm, and as you cum, you look to your left, where charles jerks himself off watching you. when you make eye contact with him, though, it's the last straw and he spills into his hand with a quiet groan and his head thrown back.

the three of you catch your breaths and carlos pulls out of you gently, then shoves his cum back inside of you. the forgotten egg vibrator in charles' coat pocket is reinserted into your cunt and you whine at the overstimulation, slightly anxious that charles might tease you again, but he whispers a quiet promise in your ear that you've been good tonight, he won't turn it on anymore.

eventually, carlos slips out of the bathroom and you follow shortly after, walking back down the large hallway to return to the event. later that night, after speeches have been made, hollow promises have been spoken, and many, many bottles of expensive champagne have been toasted with, you make your way back outside, your arm linked with charles' as he calls his car to be pulled with the valet service. carlos walks up and stands next to the two of you, his car already on its way up, and turns to you.

"i'd say the bet is settled, no?"

there you have it folks :D

[gojonanami]

BLOODSUCKER - SATORU GOJO

✴︎ summary: you had avoided your ex for so long, only to run into him at a halloween party, and he's the same as ever but has his teeth always been that sharp? ✴︎ contents: 18+ only, nsfw, dub/con, blood kink, gojo has fangs, biting, marking, bloodsucking, fingering (f!receiving), swearing, semi-public sex, sex against a car, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names (sweetheart, pretty, baby), ✴︎ wc: 2,704

“Can I have a bite?” He whispers, lips against your ear, his breath hot against your skin, sending a warm flush down your body — and why did he smell so intoxicating? 

The night had gone on normally enough — yet another Halloween party you had been dragged to (after you had lost a bet and ended up being the designated driver for the evening) in another coordinated themed costume — this time for the Barbie movie. Yet another throng of costumed drunks and weirdos you had to wade through while your friends had their fun. And you thought the night would be boring. 

Oh, you were so wrong. 

He saw you first. You were only sure of that, after, because you remembered the prickling of your skin when his ice blue irises had found you lounging in the loft area upstairs — where most people had begun to clear out of after the keg had arrived downstairs. You had let your hair out of your wig, your head aching from the weight of the hair on your head and the cheap elastic band trying to work its way into your forehead. 

You unlocked your phone, looking at yourself in your camera, pouting at the state of your hair — unkempt and unruly from the wig, but you only could do what you could. 

“Great, now I can be a scary Barbie,” you murmur, locking your phone, as you pocket it. 

“Oh, you’re not scary,” and your head snaps up, eyes finding those pools of still blue that looked like you could drown in them — and you very well would. His lips were curled in a small smile, his skin looked pale in the harsh fluorescent lights of the kitchen, “but I wouldn’t mind seeing you be a little scary,” 

“Satoru,” your lips twist, fuck, you thought he’d never show up to this party — you had avoided him flawlessly since your breakup — if you could even call it that. You never official — you were never anything, just a situation that was more than a booty call, but less than a relationship. Every invitation was only accepted with assurance and recon that Satoru would not attend, every exit strategy was planned, and every move was carefully made. 

Except this one. 

“Oh, you recognize me?” he gasps in mock surprise, lips in that shit eating grin you had loved to kiss off of him, but now, all it did was make you want to slap him, “surprised you did after you’ve avoided me for so long, sweetheart,” 

“And apparently you’re the one with brain damage because we broke up — don’t call me that,” you sigh, eyes glancing down at his outfit — a black and white suit with a high collar, as his mouth moved as he spoke, you caught sight of fangs on his teeth, and his eyes glinted with a crimson tint dipped in an ocean of blue, “your costume is fitting — you definitely did suck the life out of our relationship,” 

“Bitter doesn’t suit you, baby,” your eye twitches, as he dares closer, eyes glinting in the low light of the kitchen, “plus y’know, you always did the best sucking,” 

Your traitorous cheeks flush, and he doesn’t miss the way your eyes betray you by flickering downwards, “fuck off—“ 

“Oh, I know you want me to fuck something — don’t think it’s off though,” he looms closer, licking his lips, as he smiles — and your heart forgets to beat — did he always smell this good? He smelt of musk, wood, and everything warm and honeyed — the scent melted over you, plying your resistance with sweetness in contrast to his vulgarity, “look at you, haven’t even touched you and you’re so pliant, where’s that mouth now?” And his thumbs drag down your lips, pulling at the bottom one — “looks better wrapped around my cock, doesn’t it?” 

And his words snap you from your trance, slapping his hand away, “didn’t expect an apology from you, but I thought you’d do better than this shit,” 

“Can you blame me for missing you, pretty?” He pouts, “thought you loved me more than that,” 

“And I thought you loved me enough to commit but looks like we both are wrong,” you roll your eyes, “go find someone else to fuck with, Gojo,” 

He raises an eyebrow, “Aw, baby, don’t act so unfamiliar, you had my dick in you after all, you can still call me Satoru,” and then there’s a cheer in the living room that cuts off your retort, as he turns to look. 

And that’s your cue to leave, you slip away from him, grabbing your jacket, making an Irish exit, slipping through the throng of people partying. You manage to get down the street, the streets quiet now, the sounds of the party growing more distant by the second. A sense of dread settled over you the more you walked, forming a lump in your throat and a pit in your stomach. The streetlights flickered above you, the wind cutting through your jacket as you pulled it closer around you. Your car was close, right past this wooded backyard, trees lining what seemed to be an abandoned home. There was only a few more yards — and then you heard a twig snap — your head snapped around to look behind you. 

And that was your mistake. 

A hand clamped over your mouth, as you gasped against it, another tight around your middle, your scream was muffled against the palm. And then a familiar voice whispered in your ear, “Boo,” before he lets you go, and you whirl around, smacking Satoru against his chest, hard. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Your heart was pumping, hard, nearly banging against your ribs, body still shaking with adrenaline, “what the fuck - that’s not fucking funny,” 

“It wasn’t supposed to be funny — it was supposed to be spooky,” he grins, unaffected by your anger, as your fingers clench into fists, “you didn’t give me a treat so I had to play a trick. It’s the rules of Halloween, pretty,” 

“It wasn’t spooky, it was fucking scary—“ you move to hit him again, and he catches your hand by the wrist, and he’s pulling you close, “let me go, Gojo—“ 

“Satoru,” he corrects, his fingers caressing your cheek, and you feel your knees knocking together, the world shifting beneath your feet, “I’m sorry for frightening you, sweetheart,” and he’s helping you walk over to your car, “just wanted to make sure you get to your car safely,” 

Why were you letting him help you? Why was your body leaning against his? Why were you letting his arm slink around your waist, fingers squeezing your hip? But those same questions sunk away into the inky abyss of your mind, as thoughts blurred over each other, and all you can think about was him.  

“Satoru,” you murmur, as you stumble against him, and he catches you by your waist, steadying you, “I don’t know what’s wrong,” your head rests against his chest, but you felt so comfortable, so…content. 

“It’s okay, baby, I got you,” he purred, his words only intoxicated you further, drizzled like melted molasses down your throat, “that spook I gave you earlier really took it out of you, but,” his fingers tilt your chin up, his eyes finding yours — and they glowed, a shiny blue that unnerved you, “should I show you something really scary?” 

“Satoru, what—“ and he’s kissing you, lips sliding against yours — he tastes familiar, hint of candy corn that he was always a fiend for, but he tastes even sweeter than that, headier too — before he parts, “what are you doing?” 

“Showing you just how much I missed you,” he hums, thumb gliding over the length of your cheek, “y’know how hard it was for me without you? Wouldn’t be able to sleep. I could only think about how I had screwed thing up. Would take these long walks at night when I couldn’t sleep,” and his fingers trace down your jawline, before reaching your neck, his thumb resting against your pulse, “turns out those walks were good for one thing,” 

“And what’s that?” You murmur, still utterly distracted by his touch. 

And he brushes his lips against your neck, teeth grazing against your pulse, “Finding a way to keep you — forever,” and his lips find yours again, more insistent this time, as his arms press your body to his, your hands sliding up his chest, caged in by his form, “can I have a bite?” he whispers, lips against your ear now, sending a flush across your cheeks, “just wanna mark you again, like i used to, make you mine,” 

For a moment, the curtain snaps back, mask slipping, as your eyes flutter open without the rosy glasses he had slipped over your eyes, “I’m not yours,” and you only see him — the true him — for a moment. 

His muscles tighten, fingers digging into your sides harshly, gripping your flesh hard enough to bruise, his gaze is dark, navy instead of the usual cerulean with a ring of red that pierces through your skin, but his teeth — his teeth scare you the most — his fangs aren’t fake, his tongue sliding against them both, as he flashed an unnerving smile at you that sends your blood running cold.  

But not colder than his. 

“Satoru — what—“ and his lips find yours again, sending a headiness throughout your body, from your head to the tips of your toes, “I-“ 

“Just let me have this, just this one night,” he murmurs, words as smooth as glass and as needy as need itself, “please,” 

And you’re the one pulling him to you, back against the cool metal of your car, and your fingers cup his face, pulling him against your lips. He tastes like want, his tongue parts your lips, as his fingers slide up your dress, sending goosebumps up your thighs, “Fuck, all it takes for you, huh?” He murmurs, and his fangs nibble at your bottom lip making you gasp, pressing wet kisses down your jaw, until he reaches your neck. 

“Been thinking about this for far too long, sweetheart,” 

two fingers drag down your neck first, as he tilts your head for easy access, and you shiver at his touch — was he colder than before? “I’m going to be doing a lot more than marking you like I did before,” his lips press a delicate kiss to your neck, “need to taste it,” 

And his fangs drag over your soft flesh, before he finally bites you. Your mouth hangs open in a sharp gasp as his fangs pierce your skin, and your head lolls back, as pleasure floods your body. You feel your warm blood dripping from your neck, slipping down your skin, as he sucks from you. 

He pulls away for a moment to look at you, your scarlet blood dripping from his mouth, painting his pale pink lips burgundy, as his tongue darts out to catch the blood slipping down your chin. 

“You taste like everything to me,” he murmurs, pressing his nose against the nape of your neck, “sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted, aren’t you?” 

You whimper, “Satoru, feels so good,” and he’s kissing you again, letting you taste your own blood on his lips, it only makes you want him even more. But this isn’t right, something wasn’t right—

“Just give in, sweetheart,” he’s dragging your hands down your sides, squeezing your hips, as his palms rest under your thighs, “let me make you feel good,” 

And he lifts you, guiding your legs to wrap around your waist, as his large palm slides up your thigh, hiking your dress up. He grins, looking at your soaked panties, thumb pressing against your puffy clit, making you gasp and squirm, “wonder if you taste even sweeter down here, baby?” 

You whine louder, as his fingers slide into the waistband of your underwear and snaps it against your skin, “Your blood is pumping harder than ever, bet it tastes even better like that — full of your fear, full of your pleasure,” his fingers are sliding your drenched panties down, “fuck, you’re a little freak, bet you got wet when I grabbed you, can’t all be from the last few minutes,” 

And his lithe finger sinking into you, as your lips part in a gasp as he bullies your walls, “So tight for me,” he groans, as his finger curls against you, making you moan, and his teeth graze against your neck, before sinking in. You both moan in tandem, as he drinks more of your blood, as a second finger parts into your folds, your release dripping down his palm. He’s stretching you out — fingers pistoning in and out, Pleasure courses up and down your body, toes curling, as all you can hear is the sucking of his fangs and the squelch of his fingers in your cunt. 

And then he hits that spot, and you’re cumming, slick dripping down your thighs as you moan, as your hips move against his fingers, riding out your orgasm. He pulls your fangs from your neck, letting your blood drip down your neck. 

He tilts your head back, letting him look at your fluttering eyelashes and fucked out expression, lips parted, as your blood paints your skin a beautiful maroon. 

“So fuckin’ pretty, sweetheart,” he’s pulling his fingers from you, as you gasp from the emptiness. He places them in his mouth, cleaning them of your release, “think I may get addicted baby, gotta have more of you — doesn’t matter if it’s your blood or your cum,” 

And you hear the clink of your belt buckle and sound of his zipper, as he frees his cock, rubbing against your dripping pussy, “Gonna let your ex fuck you against your car? Gotta have you baby, but if I take you now, I don’t know if I’ll ever let you go,” he’s teasing the head of his cock against your pussy lips, “do you still want me to do it?”

You whine, back arching against the hard surface of the car, “please, I need you,” your fingers wrap around his neck, his lips against yours, “Satoru—“ 

And he’s sinking his cock into you, as he’s lifting your legs to your ears, ankles by his ears as his hips flush against your ass, “Fuck, can you feel me kissing the deepest part of you?” His hips roll into you now, slowly at first, again and again, as your walls throb around him, the car groans and your ankles ache against his slow thrusts, “best cunt I’ve ever had, and all fucking mine now,” 

“Toru, please, more—“ 

And he barks a laugh, sweat slipping down your forehead, his balls slapping against your ass, “so needy f’me, you’re mine aren’t you? Say you’re mine,” he’s grunting as your walls flutter around him, and he knows you’re close—

Your orgasm washes over you, toes curling, and he leans forward, fangs sinking into you, as he fucks you through it. The blood he drinks makes your head dizzy with pleasure, until he pulls away, letting your blood drip from his lips. And he’s grunting, hips stuttering as he bottoms out — making you gasp and whine again. Until he’s cumming inside you, painting your walls white, emptying his load into you. He’s fucking his cum inside your cunt.

And he’s easing your legs down as the two of you come down, his face buried in the nape of your neck, licking at the blood dripping from his bites — your neck beginning to ache and sting now. 

“So pretty, so perfect,” he coos, his lips curling still red from your blood, as he’s curling his arms around your waist, “gotta take you home so I can taste you all over again.” 

“No, I can’t. This was a one time thing—“ 

And he’s tilting your chin up, eyes flashing dangerously, as his lips curl, “I told you, I’m not going to let you go, besides,” he turns your head towards your rear view mirror, your eyes beginning to glint red, “I have to let you have a bite of me later,” and you can feel your blood run cold, “it’s only fair, isn’t it, sweetheart?” 

✴︎ a/n: was possessed to write this by the halloween spirits -- also i have a thing for bloodsucking now unfortunately. have a spooky season :)

✴︎ tag list: @d1rtv, @crazynocturnalkiki, @ichikanu, @dazailover1900, @sinnerstardoll, @bisexualpanicwentoutforasmoke, @dumbabie, @aureatekintsugi, @mooly-artistic, @happymangospot, @hiimarandin, @bunsunee, @5-xiaoo,

[the-moon-files]

so... my interpretation of guide!reader may be vastly different from others but with my vast assimilation of yours and others content, this is my variation of the one I like envisioning involving concepts such as yours (Humans are NOT Hylians and Guide!Reader) so this is my official start to the ramblings *DEEP INHALE*

when I read the post about reader losing their sord and just punching the monsters and it is working along with the other links being amazed

I imagine that because of the fact that hylian's are so light that they didn't put that much into the growth of physical arts

they can punch and kick fine but that's more so used for scraps agents one another, rather than in fights against monsters

hylian's don't have enough strength or weight to have it be worth it on the battlefield

its much more worth their time and energy to learn things like swordsmanship or artery, and be nimble

but guide dose have: the muscle, weight, durability and training necessary for such a strategy to be worth it

It would be more effective for the reader to use the Muay Thai and Taekwondo they worked so hard on instead of learning something new

_*looking respectfully

I can imagine that this levees them beater of physically than most (*cough* me *cough*)

leveeing them much more prepared

along with giving them a lot more... muscle...

Link's(-wind):... please crush me between your thighs

Guide!Reader: what?

Link's(-wind): what.

I know that it has been said that reader is shorter than time, but I personally like them slightly bigger than time

you know... forehead kissing rang

so it's only slightly less awkward to pick them up

I think their deep honey like voice could be compared to their slightly dark honey-colored eyes

someone like legend would appreciate how their eyes turn golden in the sun light, shining like no ring on his finger

Hyrule loves how they feel different from the cold sweetness of sugar water, instead they feel like rich honey and warm cinnamene

wild remembers them as there very first true companion and comfort

to wars, an immovable force, never leveeing their side

that's all I have fore now, but be warned...

I'll be back!

and I'm putting them in a dress (:<

AHH SORRY FOR LATE REPLY U HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH IVE BEEN HOGGING THIS TO MYSELF

Martial arts reader/Mc my beloved <333

U sent in ART TOO??!!!! 😭🙏

i love stuff like this sm ur style is so 😳💌💘💝💖💓💞💕❤️‍🔥🙈

The bit abt hylians not needing as much/making intricate martial arts/making their body be the weapon is so peak worldbuilding, if i had an official stamp to say smth is canon in my little HaNH AU (Humans are Not Hylians) i would stamp this 10x over

Acc u know what one sec

Since u made art, have some shitty meme art in return

LMAO its shitty but i hope u know it is the biggest support i can give you, like GOD the ART i keep coming back and Also. Looking Respectfully.

And this is the biggest thank you i could give for sharing this w/me!!

Ok spam headcanons?? Sorta

CONTENT WARNINGS: MILDLY SUGGESTIVE? CONTENT, 16+/18+ MATURER AUDIENCES RECOMMENDED.

COULD YOU IMAGINEEEEE

How the Hylians view Wrestling.

Like, your knuckles/elbows/knees (the parts where thers not as much fat to protect) start to bleed punching armored monsters/arms get tired and you just-

Wrap ur legs around a lynels neck and spin around their neck, using your body weight to drag and lay that bitch Out.

(This is a Real Martial Arts move Ive fucking seen a gif of hold on i NEED to find it- FUCK i cant find it but try youtube and see if yall can find it, its So Real i promise, it was on tumblr at one point)

Who's swooning? Not all 8 Links, nope-

Links, externally (+Wind genuinely): Hahaha, u can crush a watermelow open between ur thighs?? Omg thats so cool- !! 😃

Links, internally (-wind): omfTRIPLEGODDESSES- DID U SEE THAT?? IT WASNT JUST ME RIGHT??? SO WE ALL LOWKEY WANNA,, RIGHT??? 🙊😶🙈😳😳😳(Making eye contact w/each other and communicating this silently, everyone going super red/turning away/ears twitching)

Wind makes you do like another 4 watermelons bc its genuinely so impressive to him (does he think its hilarious to watch the others get all embarassed? Hell yeah- what else are little brothers supposed to do??)

Okay but OG asker/Snack Eater DID NOT emphasize how insane a Muay Thai fighter in HaNH AU would go???

If u dont know, Muay Thai is DEADLY-DEADLY kinda martial arts, like it has been considered assault with a deadly weapon before i think/been banned a lot of other fighting places outside its country of origin? I think its Thailand?

Anyway Thailand is fucking crazy for not having a higher rate of murders acredited to this martial art, bc guys, they use Elbows and Knees in their moves.

Like. That's banned/outright no moves created/or at least taught, a lot of the time in other martial arts from diff places.

Like that kills people. So easily. 😃

Like, the Chain already knows ur deadly, but when u reveal (having done the Honorable/Give Them A Fair Chance Thing) and not used Elbows or Knees yet, only to get into the harder enemies like boss fights and suddenly get real close (!!! What are you doing Guide Back Up-!!)

And whip out an elbow, crack the motherfucker straight in the head, and watch the thing immediately flatline right before their eyes??

Its like seeing a biblically accurate angel descend.

Like their in awe, but also scared? But its also like feeding into the awe?? Jaws have dropped.

U tell them that Elbows and Knees are even banned back home, and every single Link is like "Understandable. Obviously. But also, oh my goddess?? A move even the Humans banned?? Bc its so deadly???"

Wind: "..."

Wind: "...hey. Can you kill Gods? ...Can you kill Ganon?"

(The entire Chain goes silent in shock before exploding into Exsistential Crisis Mode, it takes Time/Wars like 5 minutes to recover from this information/experience enough to get up and calm everyone down lmao)

ALSO???

On a completely diff note-

Shorted Links, Taller Guide Reader my beloved?? <<<3333

Oh i def been leaning towards some Links are taller bc i think the imagery of you picking them up easily is funny (what can i say I live to embarass/try and fluster Time/Twi)

But you being taller?? Sign me tf up babe I have NOTHING against that, and am ALL for it????

Like u go thru a triangle portal/wake up from playing Loz and the Links are all shorter than you?? blessings rain down upon us like????

Twi/Time/Wars (who i headcanon as the tallest Links, in that order, along with Sky when he stops slouching lol)

And for Twilight to just be forehead kissing height?!

(He might've realized he's got a thing for lowkey feeling like worshipping ppl taller than him, bc other than the few humans who did live in Ordon, he was the tallest Hylian)

Time adores looking up at you, like u swear you saw his ears flapping a little

Wars is just,, 😀😳👉👈🥺 h-hey

Like flirting is infinitely harder when theyre a head taller than you, the poor Captain has found

(Yknow bc im personally 5"3, or abt 160cm, i think itd be even funnier if no matter what height you are, ur still taller than the tallest Hylians LMAO, Four our here actually being 3-4 ft tall like hobbits lol)

Omg (i know, i PROMISE, i KNOW) that its not canon at all, but i think itd be funny if the hylians most common hair color was blonde/most common eyecolor was blue/green,

And its rarer for ppl to have brown eyes/dark hair

Like the opposite of a lot of American beauty standards, ur seen at the Y/N, the main character for having darker features

(Lowkey inlcuding skin tone bc, and this is canon, have u seen the skin tone diversity historically for Loz games lmao 😅)

Ok im done sorry for rambling

Thanks again for this!!

___ TW: Hurricane Helene talk below ____

Fair Warning: I WILL NOT be tolerating any condescending/hateful or otherwise negative responses about the effects of Hurricane Helene.

People have died. Myself/my friends/my family/my coworkers have been affected. Be respectful.

You will be blocked/possibly reported for hate speech.

This was like Hurricane Katrina for us, because these areas were NOT prepared for hurricanes.

Those most affected are Mountain communities, we're supposed to have more mild weather, and the last time this happened according to older locals was decades ago, if then.

...

Hey!! If u read my tags of my last reblog, im doing better, we got back to town and realized our powers back on, and then the next day luckily our water was back on too

(its not drinkable but at least we can flush the toliet/shower 😭)

Luckily too by this point the water distribution/rescue crews are here,

DUDE. We were/are so fucked Biden came to look at us 😃

Im personally still on the lookout for missing ppl (my coworker has missing family in the town nearby and in telling my friend over there to spread the word)

And cellular service is back up, but they may jut be bc they brought in temporary towers/Tmobile is giving out free service for everyone too

Its slow going still, all these developments are taking days to achieve if u cant tell

And no pressure, esp if u dont have the spare money,

But if you could donate to help my city/the cities nearby who are still very isolated bc theyre smaller, along with helping our homeless people who no doubt are worse off, thatd mean to world to me/all of us!! <3

Here's some links for that, even if its just tip money/money for a coffee, anything helps!

https://pay.payitgov.com/ncdonations

https://crowdfund.charlotte.edu/project/44126

https://www.chabadasheville.org/templates/section_cdo/aid/6606696/jewish/Hurricane-Helene-Relief.htm

Thanks for reading, and blessed be those still in need of rescue, from human to animals, and to those who have passed.

May those you left behind find peace.

<3

Peact out,

🌙

[bitchimasnake-sss]

bitchimasnake-sss presents: the one pieces AUs

01. (don't) let them cook! ft. vinsmoke sanji!

there's something about forced dating that makes me feel all giddy inside. and yes, that's my excuse for writing this. no, you don't get to judge me. how about you just read? synopsis: "fuck off, vinsmoke."//"love ya too!" when you heard the words cooking competition, you only heard two things: cooking and competition. and you only had one thing in mind: to get the cash prize and open your own bakery. sounds easy enough, right? then, why the fuck was management telling you to play lovers along with that blonde, heart-eyed freak who was supposed to be your competitor? vinsmoke sanji. risking your heart and cooking skills, all in the name of "increasing viewer ratings"? what could ever go wrong with this? cw: crack, close proximity, sanji is a flirt, and you're one right back. smut in the next part you horny fucks, i promise. wc: 8.7k [the banter got out of hand... so, i wrote too much of it.] m.list

week 03. challenge: teamwork makes the dream work, fuckers!

"okay then!" jordan ramsey, the head judge clapped his hands to gather your attention. cameras rolled, the crew shifted behind the spotlight, as the judge scrutinized you all under his heated gaze.

from your peripheral vision, you could see eleven more contestants, each perched on one clean, nicely-equipped station. four people in front of you, one to your side and five more people to your back.

the blonde chef continued, "working in the kitchen is all about teamwork. you're all talented on your own, you've proved that so far. but if all of you did your own thing in an actual kitchen, the place will burn down and you all will kill each other with a butter knife."

you caught the people in front of you laughing and exchanging giddy glances, all while your stomach grew tighter and tighter. a light headache built in your temples as your stomach sunk under and under and under. oh my god, nami. why?!

"so, today's challenge will be a team challenge." the older man continued, "i will divide you all into teams of two, and you'd have to work together to make this shit work. good luck!"

and your partner was obviously vinsmoke sanji. damn. curse you, nami!

. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

previously: during week 02.

your right hand ran over your left arm, trying to soothe the goosebump-ish skin. the cabin was unusually cold, and you instinctively tried to sink back further against your seat to find some inkling of heat.

sighing, your gaze darted around the cabin. you were sat at the neat mahogany desk which had a framed photo of red-head with a pretty blue-haired girl, another one of a group of odd 20-somethings with stupid hair colors, like who even dyes their hair moss green?, a few files and a neat pen-stand. the walls had been smothered with tens upon tens of polaroid photos, a whiteboard with the word STRATEGY and more storage for files.

the plaque outside the cabin had read HEAD PROJECT MANAGER: NAMI.

when you had been called to her office, you had vaguely recalled a pretty red-head of the same name from the interview round, but now you sat in nauseating suspense as your nails clacked mindlessly against the wood.

creeaak! you were pulled out of your trance by the soft groan of the door opening.

"sorry for making you wait." her bold red lipstick caught your attention before she did. heels clacking against the marble floor, statement earrings swishing with every step and red hair tied into a near ponytail, the project manager walked into the room.

as she softly sat down in the previously unoccupied leather chair, her knifelike gaze was trained on you.

pretty manicured hands came to clasp on the table and she rested her chin atop them. a polite smile made it's way on her painted lips as she addressed you, "sorry about the wait, i had to take care of something important."

"it's fine," you shook your head, hands still running up and down your cold arms, "could you tell me why i'm here?"

"of course!" nami laughed but it felt more like a formality, "but before that, how has your experience on 'master chef: all blue' been thus far?"

"oh? well," you tried to think back to your experience. thus far, only two weeks had passed by, and you had shot only four episodes in total. you had managed to survive and maintain a steady reputation for yourself in the top five.

so, all in all, "good." you concluded, "it's been going pretty good."

"that's a relief, and have you made any friends here? any connections?" nami mused, and you found yourself growing confused. you had made a conscious decision to not be buddy-buddy with anyone on the show. you were here to win, not to make lifelong friendships.

clearing your throat, you admitted, "no... not yet, i mean. why do you ask?"

"it's no biggie, let me explain," she waved her hand, giving you a persuasive smile. you nodded and nami continued, "see, the production company runs this show to make money. and the contestants, much like yourself, come here to win money. with me so far?"

you nodded once more, "good. basically, the production makes money off of you as much as you do off of it."

you were vaguely reminded of hearing about the owner of the production: sir crocodile. even the name sounded shady, you had no clue how nami worked under someone like that.

"—and i make money if everything goes smoothly."

"right?" your brows furrowed, tone growing unsure, "sorry, but what does that have to do with me?"

"it has everything to do with you." nami moved backwards, each step calculated. as her back rested against the fine leather, her fingers stayed clasped over the mahogany, "with every other contestant too, to be honest. you see, if the contestants are entertaining, the viewership goes up. and if the viewership goes up, we make money. and everyone's happy."

you scoffed, fingers clasping to mirror the woman in front of you, "we're pawns, you mean?"

"don't make me laugh." words sharp, eyes sharper, "pawns don't get the chance to win 250 grand now, do they?"

"fine, continue."

"im trying to help." her tone softened. well, no, it was more calculated now. "we've noticed from the past two weeks that you don't particularly get along with anyone. keeping to yourself, barely saying anything, only work, it seems. and that's a fucking shame cause you're clearly talented and can win this show."

your eyes widened, mouth growing dry at her unwarranted praise. suspicious. "how do you know that? it's been two weeks."

nami winked, "i am a pretty good judge of character. but..." she drawled on, "you're not entertaining, girl. you are no fun to watch. and frankly, the audience wouldn't root for a character like that! it's television, after all."

"but i'm not a character," your palms flattened against the cold, wooden desk and you leaned forward, "i'm a person."

"a person who admitted in the interview round that she wants to 'win this shit' at any cost." the red-head peered at you as if seeing past your flesh and bones, "and to 'win this shit', you need to be atleast a little bit marketable. it is television, after all."

you leaned back, eyes narrowing, "what do you want, nami? say it clearly."

"hm. just look at this once." the red-head reached for one of the files kept to her left, and carefully pulled out a black file with multiple coloured tabs. she flipped through documents before settling over one, and sliding the document to you.

"what do you think of vinsmoke sanji?" nami asked as you stared down the photo of the blonde, heart-eyed freak that was your fellow contestant.

you shuddered at the mere idea of having him around.

chants of all kinds of overtly sweet nicknames left that blonde chef's lips as if it was the same as breathing air, and no woman in his vicinity was safe. you had made it your mission to stay as far away from him as possible. his darling, love, sweetheart would not sway you! but you had to begrudgingly accept that you respected him. after all, he was in the top five consistently for the past two weeks, and that had to mean something. that something being: he was a fool, but a well-deserving fool.

"he's talented," you stared at nami, stating mere facts, "knows what he's doing in the kitchen, and is a terrible flirt."

"do you dislike him?"

"i don't feel anything in particular about him." and it was true. he was attractive, had a way with words, and knew how to work the knife. an ideal man in a cringe-fail way, you suppose. but at the end of the day, he was still a competitor. you continued, "never talked long enough to get to know him, frankly."

"let me paint a picture for ya," nami grinned, cat-like, "imagine the cold, far-removed woman falling for the overtly flirtatious man. slowly growing warmer to him, talking to him, laughing at his terrible pick-up lines. doesn't that seem entertaining?"

"perhaps it does." you paused, mulling over her words. when you spoke, your voice was thick, as if you had been asked to offer your heart, "but i presume that i'm the cold woman in the story, and sanji the overtly flirtatious man?"

"you're smart."

"thankyou," you dragged the seat back and stood up, "but i am not gonna sell my dignity for the sake of a character. i am here to cook, and i'll do that."

"ah," nami tipped her head back to look at you, "what a shame. i was gonna compensate you 5k per episode. and since we have about 2 and half more months, that's roughly 20 more episode." she sucked in a breath, "such a shame, could have made 100 grand. i believe it's a good amount of money to use for the bakery."

"huh?!" your eyes widened, "what? you'd pay me 100 grand?! for pretending?!"

"well, of course." nami nodded solemnly, "and i suppose that if your relationship did well, and we got more viewer engagement and buzz... then, who knows? maybe i could have increased the price to 10k per episode." nami stood up, sighing, "but since you don't want this—"

"—you'd pay me this amount even if i don't win?"

check-mate. nami smiled politely, "of course. we'd officially put you on a contract, make you sign a NDA, yada yada, a whole bunch of things. but—"

"okay, then!" you nodded, cutting her off enthusiastically, "i can tolerate sanji, or whoever for that matter!"

the red-head cooed, "but what of your dignity?"

"my dignity won't pay my bills." you replied coolly, "should have mentioned the price and i wouldn't have bickered so much."

"you're smart," and then the red-head grinned, "i like you. let me get the contract."

"oh," the manager cut herself off, a hand outstretched in your direction to shake it, "just one last thing."

"hm?" you clasped her soft hand in yours, "what is it?"

"say you won't fall in love."

"never will."

. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

week 03. continuing the challenge: teamwork makes the dream work, fuckers!

"you're as radiant as ever, love." the man hummed loud enough to be caught by his mic as he walk past you. and hey! it's not your fault that your nose scrunched up and disgust and you threw up just a little bit in your mouth. he seemed to be enjoying this.

your brows furrowed as you hyper-focused on the bell-pepper you were chopping, refusing to look up at sanji as he softly moved past you to go sauté the onion and garlic.

nami had advised you to stay unreactive this episode. don't flirt back, but also do not start gagging every time the blonde spoke. 'it's the start of the love story of the century!' she had said, and you had been a buffoon who had nodded, thinking 'how hard can tolerating sanji be?'

very hard. because it seemed as though sanji had got the memo to be as obnoxious as humanly possible. or maybe that was just his personality?

as he chopped another shallot into paper-thin pieces, his mouth kept running and running and running, "the first time i saw you, i kept thinking that i don't think i've met someone quite as gorgeous as you. but then you were ignoring me, and i kept thinking well that's kinda hot—"

"sanji, saute these next." you cleared your throat, giving sanji a polite smile, "i'm done cutting the bell peppers."

your partner nodded, giving you a grin, "aren't you the best, gorgeous?"

"jus' doing my job, unlike you." you mumbled under your breath as you focused your direction on another task. but sanji slowly bent down, head tilting towards you to hear you better, "sorry, did you say something?"

love story of the century, my ass.

as much as the love-story had been staged, the outcome of the challenge hadn't. you two had put aside all differences and put your best dish forward, and now you stood in front of the judge as he taste-tested your meal.

"hm," mr. ramsey paused, feeling the flavours slowly. he slowly lifted his gaze to scrutinize sanji, then landed his sharp features on you. putting the fork down, and wiping his mouth slowly, he finally started talking, "i had seen a little bit of buddy-buddy thing going while cooking today."

sanji laughed and you just coyly smiled as the chef continued, "i was scared the food is gonna taste awful, and it does." he paused, and you pretended to be shocked for the sake of the cameras rolling around you, "awful...ly good, that is. so far, today, this is the best i've had."

the other contestants clapped as the two of you bowed, muttering thankyous and holding back cheeky smiles. at the end, you and sanji ended up being at the top, and were given immunity from the next day's elimination challenge.

you had exchanged congratulations and thankyous and were walking out from the filming set when you felt someone catching upto you. towering over you, all you could see from your periphery was blonde and blue.

"hey," sanji grinned, his pace slowing to match yours, voice silken, "we did pretty good today, didn't we?"

"yeah, thanks for the help." you nodded softly, focusing on making your way back to the hotel all the contestants were staying in. it was a five minute walk away from the filming set, and once everything wrapped, everyone usually made their way back and chit-chatted in the lounge. well, everyone except you.

"don't mention it." sanji cleared his throat, trying again, "uh, you don't really hangout with anyone afterhours. you okay? which room are you in, anyways?"

"you don't need to know that."

"uh, right." he nodded, attempting to continue the conversation, "well, sorry. it's just if someday i needed to get to your room, i should kno-"

"why would you need to 'come to my room'?" your eyes narrowed in scrutiny.

pervert!

"oh?" the chef spluttered, eyes widening as he tried to defend his questionable character, "i- i was jus' saying randomly. i didn-not mean to—"

per—

"—vert!" you halted, and he halted right next to you. towering over you, he was dressed in a casual white t-shirt, jeans and a blue button-up on top. the fabric softly swayed against the nightly wind as you looked up at him, "do you have no shame?! i just met you!"

"i am not a pervert! i—"

"are you a," a small gasp, hands flying to your lips as you drank in his towering form, "liar too?"

"huh?! no!" he rambled on, "no, obviously not! i am not any kind of that thing!"

maybe you were a sadist, because watching vinsmoke sanji unravel at your words, as red as a beet made you feel giddy inside. for a moment, he wasn't the suave, fast-talking ladies' man. he was just a man. how fun! and then a sickening idea grabbed you by the throat and shook you like a rabid dog. a dawning realization. you could toy around with sanji outside of set just as much as he did with on set!

"no, no" you wiggled your index finger, and he grew red at your accusations. face warming, eyes panicky, he croaked out, "what do you mean no no?!"

"i used to think that your overtly-flirtatious nature was a facade to hide behind the real you," you tsked, face drawn up into a mock frown, "but you." you pointed the index finger at him, "you, good sir, are a pervert!"

"no!" he pointed his index back at you, wild hands trying to coherently explain his character, "i am not! i am just a lover of women."

you scoffed, "lover of women? which woman loves you?!"

his jaw slacked open, "i- there are women that like me!"

and you crossed your arms around your chest, "where?" you craned your face to look around, bringing a hand to your forehead as you conducted your investigation, "cannot see them anywhere."

but fuck, what was vinsmoke sanji if not a bastard of a man?

the same index finger that had been trying to defend his character now came to pull your chin up to face him. his voice softened, "maybe you could be the woman that loves me."

eyes widening like saucers, tongue-tied. what?! whAT?!

your steps fell ahead, deliberately leaving the man behind you. you didn't even bother to turn around shouting a high-pitched, "uh, see you at set later. bye!", you disappeared down the alleyway that led to the hotel.

"atleast give me your room number!" he shouted after you as you ran to the hotel lobby with a red face and adrenaline pumping through your jelly-like limbs.

"bye." sanji replied back softly, his gaze still tangled against the spot where you stood moments ago. he could smell the sweet perfume, almost imagine the bounce of your hair as you ran away from here. and he fought back a little smile as he shouted out to the ghost of you, "uh, see ya later!"

fuck. was this the man you were supposed to fall in love with?! what a nuisance.

. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

next morning, 8:03 a.m.

well, if he was going to be a slick bastard, then so were you! manners be damned, he needed to come back to reality.

"morning, love." the suave pathetic blonde cheerfully greeted you as he sunk into a seat next to you at the breakfast table.

you looked up from your scrambled eggs, confused. you pointed to yourself, finger on your chest, "me?"

"who else?" he asked, digging into the waffle he had picked out for himself, "slept well, yesterday?"

"couldn't." you admitted before shoving a mouthful, "was too scared that you'd find my hotel room, pervert."

he just laughed, "the only thing i'd like to find is the door to your cold, unyielding heart, my love."

"keep searching your entire life, then."

"what's a lifetime in front of you?" he put a hand on his chest, voice pained, "i can spend my entire life just waiting for you to glance at me."

you dragged your eyes up from your plate and to him. boring your eyes into his heart-shaped ones, you paused for a moment. then another.

"i looked at you. happy now?" you went back to eating, "now shoo."

from the one moment you spent looking at him, you noticed that sleep still lingered in the cresses on his cheek, and his hair was tousled, way curlier than it was on set. and you vaguely wondered if he straightened his bangs. should you ask hi— no.

he plastered on a dopey smile, "ah, this was only one of the thousand looks i'd want from you."

"jesus christ," you muttered as you dragged your chair back, "better start counting, i'll make sure to give you a thousand glances till the finale."

he whipped his face back to grin at you, "promise?"

you made your way keep your dishes in the pile of used plates, "fuck off, vinsmoke."

"love ya too!"

. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

a week later, 10:53 p.m.

"someone asked me if i believed in god," sanji hummed thoughtfully, "and i replied that she's right in front of me."

"blegh!" a shiver ran down your spine, goosebump erupting on your skin violently, "please don't say things like that on national television!"

"huh?" sanji cocked his head, his hand coming to slowly feel up his stubble, wavy hair falling in front of one eye, "i thought nami-swan said to take the flirting up a notch."

nami had actually said that the relationship was coming across as staged. "add authenticity!" she said, "it'll be fun!" she said.

"i know that." you groaned, falling on sanji's bed. you two were holed up in his hotel room, trying to discuss "strategy" as nami called it. you stretched your hands and legs, toes curling as the tension slowly left your mortal body, "i know, but that's too much."

he fell on his back, laying next to you and staring up at the ceiling. his shoulders brushed against yours, and from the way sanji shuddered you were sure he felt the adrenaline pumping through his flimsy veins at 5x the speed you felt. swallowing thickly, he asked, "then what do i say?"

with 100k on the line, you had to do something!

"say nothing, have you tried that?" you answered back unhelpfully and he stuck his tongue out to retort, "how is the audience suppose to buy that?"

"love doesn't always need to be said out loud." you shrugged, using the action as an excuse to scoot away from the blonde, "i dunno, though."

"why? have you never been in love, mademoiselle?"

you laughed pitifully, a half-baked kind of sound to mask your burning face, "why are we getting to know one-other now?"

"who knows?" he grinned as he sat up, looking back at you with a certain glint in his eyes, "maybe we'd figure out how to pretend to love each other better."

when you looked at sanji like this, all big grins and tousled hair, you couldn't help but smile. he looked like a kid at the candy store and he looked at you as if you'd buy him the whole place. for a moment, you thought, if he were to smile like that, then maybe you would have bought him an entire candy store.

"have you been in love?" you asked slowly, hands coming up to fiddle with your hair.

"yes?" he tipped his head back, the blonde locks falling away from his face for once, "no. maybe not. i don't really know. how do you even classify love? cause i know i've thought about marrying quite a few women."

"just say you're pathetic." you rolled your eyes, mocking him, "'quite a few women.'"

"hey, are you jealous?" and there it was, that dopey grin again.

"no." you glared at him, sitting up, "you're just so obnoxious some times."

"you want me so bad, it's obvious." but he held up his arms in surrender lest you punch him, "anyways, what were you saying about love?"

you drawled on, trying to come up with something that made sense. eventually, pulling up empty, you muttered, "well... i've heard it's a bitch."

he laughed, and you laughed too. turning left to face him, he spoke aloud, "isn't that reassuring?"

time slowed down, the air grew thick. you and sanji looked at each-other with frozen smiles on your face. his black eyes boring into yours wordlessly, and an uncertain itch travelled up your spine. why were you two sitting so close?

gaze drifting down to his lips, you found yourself talking, "love demands sacrifice, and a lot of energy. it's hard."

but sanji was a quick-witted man, and oh, how he would be the death of you. "how can loving somebody like you be hard?"

he brought up a soft hand to your cheek, face tilting towards you. he held the inches between you, waiting for you to jump forth, grab him by the collar and kiss him till he lost all cognitive senses.

"do you straighten your bangs?"

"huh?" that seemed to break him, "uh... yeah? i like them straight."

now, why did you ask that?!

"okay, okay." you just cleared your throat, looking away and slowly shifting backwards, "well... point being, uh maybe i should start flirting back with on camera?"

"huh?" he asked softly. gaze still stuck in a haze, lips still parted in anticipation, "what?"

"about what nami said?" you emphasized, trying not to get lost in his intent gaze, "like, maybe it'll look more believable if i start flirting back."

he nodded, pulling back finally, and you questioned how much was he actually processing, "yeah, sure."

"okay, then." your legs swinged off of his bed and you stood up, "i'll see you later."

but his warm palm came to catch your wrist. warm. it made your stomach churn uncomfortably. you look down at him, tugging your wrist, "what?"

"n-nothing." he pulled his hand back to his chest, but not before tracing your rugged hands under his fingertip. his gaze fell to your knees, words dying in his throat, "goodnight. sleep well."

you nodded, wordlessly turning around to leave. pacing through the spacious room, you stood in front of the large door. your fingers hung limply around the cold, brass doorknob before you yelled at, "sanji? one last thing."

you heard heavy footsteps and the shadow of a man on your back a few seconds later. his words were hasty, tone depraved to hear what you wanted, "yes?"

"say... you won't fall in love," your voice quietened, "right?"

the pause on his end lasted a century. but when he finally spoke, his voice was thick, "never. don't worry."

"good." you turned the door-knob, opening the door with a soft creak, "501, by the way. i'm in room 501. night."

. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

week 06 challenge: friends and foes!

sanji didn't really come to see you in your room, or stand outside like some creep. both things surprised you, but you held your tongue back. it is a good thing, after all! good thing he is keeping his distance!

lost in your own world, you looked down at your palms. rugged, dirtied, cuts on each square inch from your failed attempts of cooking as a child.

"—for the nth fucking time, the kitchen isn't just about doing your own thing. it is a place of compassion, comradery and team work." jordan ramsey prattled on, rubbing his hands together as he addressed the remaining eight contestants, "so today's challenge will be simple. whoever shall win's today's match is gonna get the rare advantage of making it safe and sound to the semi-finals. that's two weeks worth of immunity."

the desperate contestants in white aprons looked around, gaze darting from one to the other as they tried to sense the threat in their own kin. a few daggers were aimed at you, and you shook off the uneasy feelings by focusing on what the head chef was saying.

the judge clapped once and all eyes fell right back upon him, "kitchen is all about making good food, but also good connections. so, today, whoever so wins gets the chance to take another person with them safe and sound to the semi-finals."

your eyes shifted through the line-up of candidates as tangled against sanji's. no words were exchanged between the two of you as you went to your respective stations. you looked over your shoulder to catch the blonde's eyes, and he smiled at you softly. holding a thumbs up, you returned the gesture.

what a dork. a small smile tugged at your lips as you turned back around to look at your spotless station. wait. why are you smiling?

for a moment you found yourself growing concerned. well, it's cause of the new strategy! you're gonna try to flirt back, yes!

but your chest tightened, nimble fingers clasping together in an effort to ground yourself. you looked back once more, and found sanji still looking at you. breath hitching in your throat, you whipped your head back around. huh?! why is he still staring?

over the past few weeks, you had come to tolerate vinsmoke sanji in all of his stupid glory. a flirt, but also someone who wore his heart on his sleeve. over the past few weeks, he had stopped flirting with the other female contestants. his eyes always coming to find yours, and when he smiled, it was always directed at you. and somehow you always smiled right back at him. why was that, again?

over the past two weeks, he had taken it on himself to walk you to and from the filming set, to offer you water between takes and to listen intently when you rambled away at whatever bothered you in the kitchen today. vinsmoke sanji made your gut twist unnaturally whenever he stared down at you like you were all his. he made your head spin whenever he smiled at you like he was all yours. what a fucking nuisance.

so, obviously, you had come to the conclusion that he must be a damn good actor to make you question your sanity like this.

to distract yourself from the dawning realization that vinsmoke sanji may have been more than you were expecting, you examined the ingredients on your counter. a slight frown covered you whole. everything sour? you never were good at making sour things, and they had come to be the bane of your existence. fuck.

jordan ramsey spoke again, "today's challenge is sweet and sour. we have picked at random the flavors for you all, and you must make the said flavor the primary one in your dish." he clapped, "you have ten minutes to use the pantry and collect the needed ingredients. let's get moving, chop chop!"

the contestants scrambled from their working stations to run towards the pantry, and you found yourself in the dairy section, trying to pick up milk.

"what did you get? sweet?" sanji asked, his words suave as he tried to pick as many things as possible in one hand, "sweet just like you?"

"sour. the way my mood gets whenever you show up." you bantered back, moving around the pantry looking for unripe mangoes, "what did you get?"

"sweet. but i don't i can make anything sweeter than you, love." he picked out a carton of milk before trailing behind you. he laughed, "i guess that's my short-coming as a chef."

"ugh, you have many shortcomings as a chef other than that." you mumbled, finally picking out two unripe mangoes.

"huh?" he leaned down to hear you better, tone so terribly cocky, "you mumble a lot, you know? sometimes, i wonder if i'd miss your feelings cause you're mumbling, gorgeous."

"my feelings right now is that can't we trade? i am terrible at cooking anything sour, i can never get the taste right." you looked over at him, and he froze as soon as you made eye-contact. you waved your hand, finding yourself growing concerned, "hey? hey? you okay, sanji?"

"huh?" stuttering, looking away from you, "i- sorry. but uh, let's try our best, gorgeous."

damn. he was good at acting. the way he looked down at you, irises practically hearts with the way he took you in, and a soft blush across his face as he tried not to drop the collected items in his hands.

well, the cameras were already rolling, might as well make a show of it. so, you found yourself on your tip-toes, your soft, concerned voice against the shell of his ears, "you're blushing too hard, everything okay?"

his eyes widened at the soft pangs of air on his neck, and he pulled back instinctively, "uh— sorry." he dropped the small box of strawberries, "s-shit, what's happening to me."

"you two lovebirds okay?" the judge laughed, "vinsmoke you look like you're about to burst open."

"s-sorry, chef." the blonde knelt down to clean the mess he had created, and you bent down to help him. your foreheads bumped and you felt him shudder as your pinky brushed against his.

"sorry, sorry." mumbling, he stood quick, way too quick. you were still on the floor as he mumbled a thanks and scrambled back to his station.

"you're welcome?" you whispered, still looking at where the man once knelt. your heart grew heavy at his absence, and you tried to ignore the way your chest tightened as you walked over to your cooking station.

when you looked back at sanji, his brows were burrowed as he stared down at the ingredients. your chest tightened more as you dragged your gaze away from him. what was he doing to you?

12:04 p.m.

vinsmoke sanji one the challenge. he muttered a faint thanks as chef jordon pinned an immunity pin to his white coat. patting him on the back, the older chef spoke again, "good job, vinsmoke. now it's your turn to choose a partner you wanna save."

your gaze drifted downward, too scared to meet his eyes. the blonde chef cleared his throat, "uh... the person i wanna save is..." the next thing you heard was your name and reluctant claps from the other six contestants.

your eyes widened, cheeks flushing a deep red as you looked up to stare at sanji. you expected him to smile, to make a cocky remark, but he just met your eyes with same flushed cheeks.

the judge laughed, beckoning to you him, "knew he would pick the lady who has got him all tongue-tied. get up here, and get your immunity pin!"

"thank you."

12:52 p.m.

"this feels wrong," you mumbled, not looking up at the man next to you, "so, so very wrong."

"why?" he asked back. since the pantry incident today morning, sanji had recovered fully into his unabashed, perverted self, "would you have not picked me if you had won, pretty?"

"of course, i would have." and it surprised you how easily those words came to you. you turned to face sanji, "but only cause i know nami would have wanted us to..." you paused, "pick each other, and not- not because of any other reason! it's for the viewership!"

"i know," he nodded, and his hair shone under the overhead sun. face casted under melancholic shadows, he concluded, "it's the same for me, so, don't feel so guilty. this is good for making people think we're together."

"maybe." you two were walking back to the hotel, talking amongst each-other as you crossed the busy road. you fidgeted, "but i don't wanna be in your debt."

"well," the blonde stretched his arms upwards, the muscles of his bicep straining under the button-up, "i mean, you can always pay me back. but just being in your ever-radiant presence alone is a cathartic expe—"

what does that pervert mean now?!

"what do you mean?!" and your words came out more accusatorily than you intended. eyes flaming as you stared up at him, index finger jabbed square in his chest.

you felt the firm muscle underneath and pulled back when your stupid brain suggested to feel him up more. the picture of a flushed-face sanji under you, top off, flashed in your mind and you shook your head wildly to let the image out of your filthy brain. were you growing just as perverted living with him?! how terrible!!

you started walking again. fast. and stumbling over your words like a drunkard, you tried again, "uh- what do you want?"

he held up his arms, long legs falling in tandem with your rushed steps, "i meant like you could buy me a drink or something maybe?"

"oh?" you looked at him, dumbfounded, "just drinks?"

"huh?" a smug grin tugged at his lips, and he shrugged, "wanna pay me back some other way? i wouldn't be opposed to it—"

"—no!" you pushed him away, rushing to get into the hotel lobby, "no! obviously not." collecting your keys from the reception, you called him over your shoulder, "just uh, text me the details of where you wanna meet. okay?"

12:55 p.m.

"—but is it correct?" your tone was hasty and the red-head laughed, "yeah, totally. i can send some paps to take staged photos of you two walking into the bar. they'll click a few shots, leak them and voila! tiktok edits of you two will start circulating. it'll be soo good for business."

"so, you want me to agree to go out for drinks with him for the sake of more engagement?" you huffed, sinking down on the soft mattress, "that's coldhearted."

"hey, you are the one who asked if you can go with him." you could almost imagine the red-head sinking back into her leather chair as she spun up some idiotic genius scheme, "and i'm saying i can use this opportunity to further your relationship thingy. say 'thanks nami!'"

"thanks, nami?" you mumbled and she laughed, "have fun with your date today! let me know the details and i'll send the paps!"

before you could explain that this wasn't a date! you were just repaying favours! nami cut the call.

you swiped through your messages to see sanji's unread ones. it read:

VINSMOKE SANJI: 12: 54 uh, mclaren's pub tonight? 12:54 does 8 work for you? 12:54 it's nearby, we can walk. idm. 12:56 sorry about the triple-texting, i swear i'm not desperate. 12: 59 okay maybe a little desperate but uh, see you at eight.

mclaren's was the bar a street away from your hotel. since all the shooting sets were nearby, packed into one neat hub in the grand LAX, the filming crew, management and occasionally, the contestants got to frequent the bar. it was a selective pub, only letting people with specific IDs in.

YOU: 12:59 yeah, eight works fine. see you down at the lobby.

VINSMOKE SANJI: 1:00 can't wait, gorgeous. 1:00 i mean i can wait, don't worry. 1:01 sorry that sounded like i am forcing you to be on time. i don't mind punctuality. 1:01 i do, but only in the kitchen. sorry about that.

jesus christ. you almost snickered at how pathetic sanji was at texting.

YOU: 1:01 don't worry about it, see you then.

no sooner had the text been sent that you found yourself falling back on the mattress. as your back bounced, you stared down the ceiling in an unfair staring contest. hands dragging over your face, and an ungodly groan left you.

increased viewership be damned! you were just doing this for your extra 100k.

8:03 p.m.

"hey!" sanji greeted you with a grin as you found him at the hotel's entrance. he was dressed in a white tshirt, a casual blue overshirt and jeans. you smiled back, nodding in acknowledgement, "hey."

"you're so gorgeous that sometimes i truly think i might be dying each second over and i come alive only long enough to look at you once last time." sanji smiled, offering you a hand as you crossed the road.

you eyed his hands; neat, pristine hands. hands made just for preserving the art of cooking, it seemed. as your weary palms met his warmer ones, your voice grew weak, "do you say that to every woman you meet?"

"huh?" his brows furrowed, pretty lips falling into a pout, "no, of course not. every pretty lady gets her own individual line. i'm not like those cheap loverboys that uses the same card a million times."

you found yourself glaring at him, and he squeezed your hard gently in return, "how considerate of you."

but your gaze melted into nothingness when he smiled again, his blonde locks swaying under the strong autumnal winds. how pretty.

get a grip. you pulled your arm over your waist, looking for an inch of warmth against your own accursed touches as you walked next to the man you were to love. you hummed, "oh, by the way nami said that she'd send some paps to get our photos."

"did she?" the blonde asked earnestly, hands softly squeezing yours as he led you through an alleyway to reach the pub, "why?"

you found yourself shrugging, more focused at the way the his back muscles pulled and pushed under the shirt. his hand was gently holding yours, guiding you as he walked in front of you. you mumbled, "who knows? must be some business thingy."

"she's smart though, isn't she?" sanji's voice swooned, hands clasping as he fondly remembered the red-head and her assets. and you felt a bitter pang in your chest, the kind that permeated your bones and made your skin crawl inwards.

huh? what was that? jealousy?

you shook your head. no. it's just cold. holding yourself harder, "yeah, she is."

you're not sure at which point paps were to take your photos, so, as a precaution you pressed yourself to sanji's side. leaning against his firm biceps, you caught your intertwined hand with the other one.

"wh-what is it?" the blonde asked softly, and something about the waiver in his voice made you feel he might have a nosebleed at the fake physical touch.

"they might take pics whenever." you admitted more into the material of his sleeve than to the man that towered above you. "i'm just trying to stay prepared."

"uh huh, yeah." he nodded, head almost falling off at the rate he was nodding, "uh... you can hold onto me."

you looked up at him, only see him unraveling at your skimming touches. fighting a grin, "don't mumble, sanji. someday you might confess and i might miss out on it."

"if i confess, i'd do it with all my heart and soul. and at a good place." prideful words, "not in a shabby alleyway right this."

"hm? really?" your nose scrunched up, cheek resting against his well-defined bicep, "is that line new or did you recycle, loverboy?"

a gasp left him and you almost rolled your eyes at his dramatic nature. sanji huffed, "i would never dishonor someone as radiant as you with a recycled line."

"how very considerate of you."

11:55 p.m.

"sanjiii," your sweet words slurred just a teensy tiny bit, weak hands stopping him from downing another shot, "don' drink so much."

"but we have no shooting for the next two weeks! huzzah!" he defended himself, raising his hand to order four more shots.

"no, no. sanji, you dumb-dumbass!" you stressed, but made no effort whatsoever to send back the waitress carrying the four shots on a tray.

you two were huddled in one of the far-off, darkened booth of mclaren's pub. edm played in the background, and from your unstable vision you could see sea of bodies push and pull against each other. the neon lights painted them all in blasphemous shades of sin; grinding, kissing, leaning on each other.

you dragged your blurry vision back to sanji.

the blonde in front of you had slumped backwards. pretty lips agape and a delirious smile on his lips. you tilted your head slightly, leaning forward and forward till your foreheads could touch.

"ahaha, what're you doin'?" the chef laughed, bringing up a finger to flick at your forehead. and you fell back, as if taking 5x damage from his light touch.

putting both your hand on your forehead, you felt up the light thump, thump, thump of an impending headache. you huffed, "nothin'. was doin' nothin' at all, loverboy."

"is-ish that nickname gonna stick?" he huffed in return, pulling another shot-glass to his lips and downing the liquid in one swift go. you looked on, hyperfixated, at the way his adam's apple bobbed and a little bit of liquid spilled past his lips, down his chin and onto the table.

"i dunno, loverboy." you replied honestly, leaning forward to grab another shot for yourself. the glass felt delicate in your grasp, as if one wrong breath and it'll shatter up. downing the liquid, you hissed as the warm fluid left an ungodly sting down your throat and chest.

he remain unmoving, gaze fixed against the low-cut of your top.

"sanji," you repeated, tugging his sleeve to bring him out of his daze, "are you listening?"

"huh?" he blinked, bleary gaze being broken from your tits to come rest against your pretty face. he didn't listen what you were saying, more like he couldn't.

look, vinsmoke sanji knew he was perverted. but how could he not stare you down when your pretty tits were right there! and the way you licked your lips to collect the last remaining drops of the alcohol on your painted lips, it made him imagine the way he would kiss you. what would you taste like? like the same alcohol on his tongue? or something much more recklessly divine?

"d'you think people believe th-that we're like... a couple?" he asked absentmindedly, nimble fingers offering you another shot, "li-like is it believable?"

"yeah," you nodded. you guys weren't allowed phones, or any other piece of technology. you all had been giving phones with just each other's contacts, contacts of the managing team and emergency numbers. technically, all you knew about the world was through nami right now.

"really?" he asked, dumbfounded and you nodded harder, "isch... isch 'cause you're good at pretending to be in love or- or whatever." you found yourself laughing, "sometimes i feel like you can even fool me."

"hm?" sanji stared you down, "fool ya?"

you shook your head, holding up a palm to explain yourself further, "sometimes you look at me like ya love meee." you giggled, "but i know isch not true, you're just good a-at acting."

"no- no, i'm not." now he shook his head, strong, warm hands interlocking against yours, "i think you're sho pretty."

you attempted to crush his hand, not buying his bullshit, "ya think every girl with tits an' ass is pretty, vinsmoke."

"using the family name?!" he mumbled, distraught, "d'ya hate me?"

"nooo!!" you softened your touch against his palms, "i like ya... i think?"

"huh?" he grinned, maddened, "f'real?!"

"uh-huh, uh-huh."

"YOU TWO!" a shrill voice cut between you two. the red-head grabbed both of your ears with a pinch of her manicured fingers, "IT'S ABOUT TO BE TWELVE. GET YOUR ASSES BACK TO YOUR ROOMS."

"ouch ouch ouch—" you both hissed as she dragged you out of your booth. finally letting go, she grumbled on, "honestly, what the fuck am i? your bodyguard?! get a grip, and head back!"

she called out to some zolo? zoro? wowonoa wowo? you're not sure, but a strong moss-headed man held you two by the shoulders and softly led you out into the cold, bitter night.

"who are you?!" sanji hissed, shimmying off the man's touches, "mosshead!"

"don' be mean." you hit sanji's upper arm, turning around to smile at the uptight man, "sorry 'bout him... he's dumb."

your voice turned down into a whisper, so that sanji couldn't hear you, "an' he only cares about woman. he's a pervert!"

the man looked amused, half-snickering, as he followed nami and led you two back into the hotel lobby.

once inside the warm, familiar lobby, nami flicked you two with her indexes, "dumbasses. both of you! when you said a drink, i didn't think you'd get wasted."

"nami-swan~" sanji cooed, hands rubbing together as he smiled at the manager, "you're so cute even when you're mad."

and hey, you were drunk! so, surely it's not your fault when you 'accidentally' stepped on sanji's foot. and then again, and then one more time.

"aishhh~" he hissed, bringing his left calf up, "what?!"

"go to bed. both of you." nami sighed, rubbing circles into her temple, "zoro can you take them to their rooms?"

"huh?!" the man sounded surprised, "do i work under you?"

the manager hissed back, "yes, you do. technically. now, zoro."

the man named zoro grumbled but grabbed sanji by the collar and you by the elbow anyways. as he led you two down the hallway that opened into the elevator, he whisper-yelled back at the red-head, "say you'd forgive my loans now!"

"never." the red-head whisper-yelled back, "take them away. i need to go handle pr now. these fuckers will make me age at 2x speed."

"bye nami!" you waved as zoro shoved you and sanji into the elevator. grumbling, he asked you your hotel rooms and before you knew it, your face was pressed against the neat, white pillowcase and your eyelids were heavy.

1:39 a.m.

knock knock knock.

you opened the door to a very far-gone looking sanji. he grinned as he pushed past you and stumbled into your room, "ni-nish room."

"ugh," you tried to rub the sleep out of your eyes, and tried to pray away the steady headache building in your temples, "whaddya wan'? 'was sleeping."

the blonde turned around, a steady hand on your cheek and the taste of alcohol on your lips.

"wha-" another hand came up to cradle another cheek, lips pressing against you as he drank down any semblance of sanity you retained.

pushing you back till you were against the door, his tongue pushed past your pretty lips. warm. he felt warm, from the tip of his fingers splayed against your cheeks to how his knee was pressed against your core, the way he kissed you.

he kissed you. vinsmoke sanji just kissed you!

bug-eyed, sobered, you watched as he pulled away. licking his wet lips, a stupid smile on his face. but before you could ask him questions, or worse, take his shirt off, the blonde turned around. saying nothing, he just flopped down on your bed and pressed his face on your pillowcase.

huh?!

"what are you doing?" what was that tone of yours? apprehensive? scared? excited?

but he just beckoned you over with a sloppy shake of his right palm.

"what?" you mumbled as you trudged and stood next to him on the mattress. your voice hardened, "i'm not fucking ya like this, 'm tired— w-wait what?"

a strong hand tugging your wrist so that you fell atop him. strong arms enveloping your waist, and hot, steady breath on your forehead as sanji snuggled next to you. you could smell the expensive alcohol on his lips, the liquor-induced haze in his eyes, as he pulled you flush against himself.

"couldn'- could-" he hiccupped, "couldn't sleep alone. let stay li-like thish."

and how could you deny him when you wanted nothing more than to stay like this?

you found yourself burying your face against his white t-shirt, smelling in the french cologne he always wore. on a high of your own, you mumbled against his clothes, "you smell... nice."

but the man was out of it. before you could even get the sentence out, you heard soft snoring from above you. easy rise and fall of his firm chest against your face, strong arms caging you in. and all you could think as you fell asleep was: what a fucking nuisance. well no, all you could think of how warm he felt, how right he felt against you.

vinsmoke sanji will be the death of you.

. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

next morning, 9:41 a.m.

"jesus christ," nami found herself muttering as she saw you and sanji tangled together - just a mess of sheets, and limbs, and stupid decisions, "what's the one thing i ask people? to not fall in love. what's the one thing they do? they fall in love."

"they could've fucked with no feelings though?"

"you shut up." she glared at the man next to her, "i told you to drop them at their own rooms."

"i did." zoro hissed, crossing his arms as a defense, "that blondey love-cook has legs. he obviously just walked over. what am i supposed to do? guard him all night?"

"but what are we even looking at?" a raven-head boy chirped up next.

"luffy," nami groaned, "you wouldn't understand."

as the red-head turned on her heels, pacing the room while assessing the damage, zoro decided it was his turn to be educational.

"uh," the mosshead tried to come up with an explanation, "when real feelings get involved, it gets harder to predict what people will do next."

"so?" the bug-eyed boy asked, still confused at why his friends were this upset that two strangers probably fucked.

"so, it means i cannot just give them memos and ask them to pretend anymore!" nami groaned again, still pacing, "they'd get their feelings involved, ruin the trajectory of the story and then, all my work goes down the drain! crocodile won't give me a raise! this is the worst."

"worry not." luffy put a hand on nami's delicate shoulders, giving her a wide smile, "i can jus' ask dad to give you a raise, nami."

nami patted luffy's hand, giving him a sympathetic smile, "thanks, luffy. but croc will kill me if i asked you for help."

zoro asked earnestly, "if you die, will my loans be forgiven—"

"—no. obviously not. i'll send vivi after you."

"dammit."

the commotion was enough to wake you up. you sat up, trying to rub the sleep from your eyes. your blurry vision raked over the room, from the blonde chef passed out next to you to the three people in front of your bed. wait, three people?!

wide-eyed with a terrible headache, you asked, "what are you guys going here?!"

nami cocked her head to look at you, "cleaning your mess."

"wh-what?" but before you could even organize your thoughts, nami leaned forward to meet your eyes in a heated gaze, "tell me one thing. you remember how much i offered you?"

"yes? 100k?" you swallowed, and she peered down at you like a hawk, "good, so, your memory doesn't fail you. now, do you remember what you promised me?"

"yes?" you tried to avoid her gaze, voice shaking, "d-don't fall in love?"

"good. so, don't fall in love."

shit.

a/n: yes, a part 02 will be up sometime soon. i'm too dumb and always think one part is enough but it never is ugh. thankyou if you've read so far. ilysm!! may you get some cold, hard cash as a reward hotties mwuah <3 tagging: @mist-ixx @otkuhotgirl m.list

[silentscrying]

🏀 buzzer beater | chapter SIX.

nba!gojo x manager!reader

summary: you thought you'd gotten rid of arrogant NBA star satoru gojo when he left the curses after your first year in basketball management. but when your contract is up three years later, you find yourself working with him once again as the manager for the sorcerers. as you navigate playoff season alongside long-time friend ieiri shoko and the sorcerers' insufferable star player, you start to realize his sudden departure from the curses may not have been what it seemed, and maybe gojo isn't exactly the person (or player) you thought he was, either.

warnings: language, mentions of smoking, absurdly cute dogs. || sfw. 2.6k words.

PRACTICE IS IN full swing at Jujutsu Arena two days later when a girl walks through the back doors with two massive dogs.

The sounds of thumping basketballs and squeaking shoes and shouts echo down the hall from the gym, the doors wide open, and you wonder if Yaga will be mad that there are dogs in here.

You don’t really care—you’re chiefly concerned with the fact that these dogs are so fucking cute and you are sprinting over to pet them before she’s halfway down the hall. They’re the same size, definitely the same breed, maybe some kind of husky mix—one is jet black and the other pure white.

“Hello!” you coo, sinking to your knees as the white one licks your face. The girl laughs and tries to pull them back, but they’re too excited. “Yes, hi! Who are you, cuties?”

“Sorry! They’re very friendly.”

The girl holding the leashes has long, dark hair pulled into a ponytail, two strands loose and curling at her chin. She looks up as you hear footsteps behind you, and the dogs pull free of the girl’s grip to jump on Megumi. “Hi!” he laughs. “Miss me?”

“Hello, my favorite sister, thank you for watching my dogs again, how are you?” the girl says flatly, hands on her hips. “Oh, great, thank you for asking!”

Megumi is fully on the ground now, the dogs wagging their tails at the speed of light and climbing all over him. He grins up at her through their fur. “Thank you,” he relents.

Ah. This must be Tsumiki.

“They’re yours?” You sink your fingers into soft white fur. “Why have you never brought them before? I will literally cuddle with them every practice—”

“That’s why,” he says, raising a brow. “You know you wouldn’t get anything done if they were around.”

“Excuse you.” You make a face, but he’s very right. You’re already fully prepared to sacrifice your entire workday to pet them.

“This is Shiro,” Megumi tells you as the white dog jumps up to lick your face, “and this is Kuro—hey, down! Shiro. Down. Good girl.” He laughs and pats Shiro on the head as she flops onto the ground.

Megumi isn’t cleared to play for two more days, but he’s been coming to practice to watch and talk strategy with Kusakabe. This is the most animated you’ve seen him since the concussion—actually, this might be the most animated you’ve seen him ever. You’ve never seen him this soft before, this affectionate. The love he has for these dogs is palpable.

“Oi.” Tsumiki walks over and yanks Megumi to his feet, standing on her tiptoes and holding his face in her hands. She glares at him. “Next time you get concussed on national television, answer your phone, Gumi.”

“Sorry, Miki,” he mumbles, heat rising to his cheeks when he realizes he’s getting chewed out by his sister in front of you. He’s significantly taller than her, but you know immediately that he’ll do anything she asks of him. The older sister aura is undeniable.

“You’re lucky Yuji called me or I would’ve flown up there myself to slap you.”

Megumi rolls his eyes and Tsumiki releases him from her hold. The dogs crowd around his legs, butting their heads up against him until he pets them. “C’mon,” Megumi says. “They’re practicing. Gojo will want to say hi.”

You initially think Yaga might be pissed about the dogs being in the gym, but he’s got a soft spot for them—they trot in ahead of Megumi, and he can’t even reprimand them. They even get Kusakabe to smile. They’re well-behaved, not venturing onto the court, just hovering around Megumi obediently.

Notably less well-behaved, Gojo drops a ball the second he sees Tsumiki and abandons whatever drill he’s running, bounding over to the side of the court. “Tsumiki!” he yells, and scoops her up in a hug.

“Satoru—ew, you’re sweaty! Stop, I have class!”

As soon as Gojo is off the court the dogs are all over him. They love him, and are obviously very familiar with him. Kuro tries to chew on his headband, and Gojo is fully rolling around the floor in a two-on-one wrestling match within seconds.

“Okay, okay,” Yaga interrupts eventually. “Back to work.” Gojo sighs dramatically and nudges the dogs in your direction.

“I’m being evicted,” he tells them sadly. “Go to Team Mom. She’ll take care of you.” You roll your eyes but immediately let Shiro sprawl across your lap. She’s too big to be a lapdog, but she doesn’t seem to know or care, which is fine by you.

You were planning to head out earlier today, but you wind up leaned against Kuro with Shiro nestled across your lap for the duration of the practice. You balance your laptop on top of Shiro. She doesn’t seem to mind.

Tsumiki’s settled in beside you, killing time before she has to leave.

“You’re the default dogsitter, then?”

She laughs, ruffling Shiro’s fur. “Yeah, when the team’s away. It’s the only form of payment he’ll take for helping me pay for grad school.” She rolls her eyes. “Even though I’d do it either way. I couldn’t drop them off tonight because I have class, and since Gumi’s not cleared to drive I figured I’d just swing by here before.” You smile at the nickname, remembering his name in Gojo’s contacts.

“What are you in grad school for?”

“Social work,” she says. “Gumi’s been really supportive about it, which is sweet. Satoru too.”

Right. Gojo considers both of them family. “That’s really cool,” you say truthfully. “Why social work?”

Tsumiki sighs, watching Megumi bent over a tablet with Kusakabe, deep in conversation. “We didn’t have the best home situation growing up,” she admits. “I honestly wasn’t sure we were gonna make it, at least before Satoru showed up. I want to make sure that kind of stuff doesn’t happen to other kids.”

Her voice is soft as she runs a hand along Kuro’s back, and she tears her gaze away from Megumi to look at you. “You can ask,” she says, smiling. “Really, it’s okay.”

You feel the heat on your cheeks, feeling caught. You are curious. So curious. You take a moment to choose the right words. “Gojo told me he met you guys when Megumi was still in high school,” you say finally. “And Megumi didn’t think he could play D1.”

“Ah,” Tsumiki says. “He didn’t think he could go to college at all, really, even though I told him to. I was… really sick, around the time he was being scouted. At that point, he was all I had. I was all he had. He was going to work full-time to pay the medical bills.”

She doesn’t have to say it, for you to put two and two together. I did him a favor.

“He paid them,” you realize aloud, looking for him on the court without realizing it. “Gojo paid your medical bills. So Megumi could go D1.”

You slam your mouth shut as soon as you say it, feeling like you’ve overstepped, jumped to conclusions. But Tsumiki’s just got that same warm smile on her face, nodding. “Yeah. He really… I don’t know where we’d be without him. Where I’d be, without both of them.”

She seems to register the range of emotions on your face, the way you’re fumbling for words, and mercifully takes the conversation in a new direction. “Which is why I’m very grateful to you,” she says, “for keeping them on track.”

You laugh, startled. “Well, they certainly make it easier than the last place I came from.”

Tsumiki hums, like she knows what you mean. “Megumi likes you,” she says. “The last manager they had here wasn’t nearly as good, he said.”

The heat rises to your cheeks and you look down, fighting off a surprised smile. Megumi isn’t the most vocal—you’ve never had the impression that he doesn’t like you, but you also never expected to actually be praised by him.

“Says you keep Satoru in check,” Tsumiki says, “which is quite the feat.”

You chuckle. “Nobody can keep him in check. Not really.” Tsumiki just shakes her head and smiles.

“But you recognize that,” she says, “and that makes you different.”

You’re not sure what to do with her quiet observation, and for a while the two of you watch practice in companionable silence, interrupted only by the thumping of dog tails and the sounds of the gym.

She heads out after about fifteen minutes, waving to Gojo and forcing Megumi into a hug.

“I’ll pick them up the night before you fly out,” she promises, and kisses both of the dogs goodbye.

“So are they your dogs now or can I have them back?” Megumi asks as practice winds down, arms folded as he looks down at you. You smile up at him, thinking about what Tsumiki said. Megumi likes you. It means a lot to you, you realize, that he thinks you’re good at your job. Something warm blooms in your chest at the sentiment.

“They are my best friends now and forever,” you announce. “I will die for them.” Kuro’s tail thumps happily beside you.

Yuji plops down beside you and Kuro sits up, licking the sweat off his face. “Hi, cutie!” he says. “Hi! Yeah, who’s a good boy? You’re the best boy. Yes you are. I love you, yep, sure do. Goooood boy.”

Megumi rolls his eyes. “You ready to go?” He throws a set of car keys at Yuji and he catches them in one hand, the other still scratching Kuro behind the ears.

“You ready?” Yuji asks the dog. “You ready to go? Yeah? Let’s go!” He must be giving Megumi a ride since he’s not cleared to drive yet.

“Bye, little buddies,” you coo, booping each of their noses in turn. Shiro licks your face and Kuro butts his head against the heel of your hand, and then they’re following Megumi down the hall.

“Met the sister, huh?” Gojo says as you stand, brushing the dog fur off your pants unsuccessfully. “Man, I love those dogs.”

“She’s cool,” you say. “I like her. And I love them. I’ve never seen Fushiguro that soft.”

“Oh, yeah, he’s an absolute sap for them,” Gojo laughs. You watch the expression on his face like you can uncover something there. He’s softer when he talks about Megumi, about Tsumiki, a relaxed curve to his lips and a warm look in his eyes. You feel like there’s an entire person in Satoru Gojo, one wholly separate from the NBA star, who you haven’t really gotten to know.

Things have started to click into place now, filled in by Tsumiki’s side of the story. It makes sense that Gojo would be so worried about Megumi getting hurt. If he isn’t able to play, he isn’t able to help Tsumiki pay for grad school. Gojo would offer to pay, and Megumi and Tsumiki wouldn’t let him—they still feel like they owe Gojo as it is.

Gojo knows all of this, and on top of it, considers the Fushiguros family. He knows Megumi would run himself ragged trying to support Tsumiki on whatever income he could. He wouldn’t let her drop out. And it makes sense, too, that he didn’t feel it was his place to say anything—you’re glad that you heard about Tsumiki’s medical issues from Tsumiki herself, even if you’re surprised she was so forthcoming about them despite barely knowing you.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Gojo asks, tapping you on the temple. You pull back and swat his hand away, snapping out of your reverie.

“I’m thinking of all the ways Utahime and I can make fun of you.”

“How dare you,” he gasps, clutching his chest. “You wound me.” He grins and tosses Kento a ball as he goes around collecting them, shoving them into a mesh bag. “Well, I’ve got a Fushiguro to annoy. See you tomorrow, Alley Cat.”

You roll your eyes and wave him off, and he whistles as he disappears from view.

—

The rest of the week goes by uneventfully. Megumi returns to practice, Yaga drills the team until they drop, and you're spending every waking hour prepping for Baltimore.

The thing is, you are worried. Worried about making it past round two of the playoffs, worried about playing a second seed on their home court.

But the Sorcerers win.

And then they win again.

And again.

You hardly have any time to yourself in the whirlwind of the next two weeks. It's a fast-paced cycle of flying and emailing and calling, arguing with Gojo over whether pineapple belongs on pizza (he says it does), and crashing in hotels after midnight with Ieiri either smoking or snoring on the other side of the room. Press requests are coming in even more than usual because of the upset. The headlines are flooding your inbox.

WOLVERINES FALL TO SORCERERS ON HOME COURT

SECOND-ROUND EASTERN CONFERENCE UPSET HAS WOLVERINES FANS ON EDGE

THIRD SEED SORCERERS ON THEIR WAY TO UNEXPECTED SWEEP?

It's too good to be true, and at the fourth game Baltimore manages to get a win over your team. Yuji's uncle Sukuna gets kicked out of Jujutsu Arena again in a rage, and the loss jars your team—Gojo tries to give them a pep talk, but it mostly centers around the idea that they're better than everyone else, and Ino seems to be the only one really listening.

It's a tough loss, but you're still 3-1. And when you fly back up to Baltimore, you have a feeling it'll be for the last time this season.

You practically fall into Nobara in relief when Ino slams the last shot in just before the buzzer, solidifying the Sorcerers' place in the conference finals. Kento grins, actually grins, and tries to give Ino a high-five that Ino immediately turns into a full-fledged hug.

A series of texts from the Samurai's manager comes in only moments later.

nitta: SEE YOU ON THE 17 !!!! nitta: utahime's so mad nitta: i'm thrilled. we can get sushi

Gojo plucks your phone from your hand and holds it up above you so you can't reach it, and you scowl and briefly consider kneeing him in the nuts in front of the entire stadium.

"Don't text and manage," he says, and you roll your eyes.

"I'm trying to set up conference finals, but if you don't want to go, that's fine," you lie. You were reading Nitta's texts; close enough. Gojo grins and drops the phone back into your hands.

"Conference finals!" he whoops, practically singing as he bounces on the balls of his feet. "Oh, I can't wait to see Utahime."

"She can wait to see you," you say, but Nobara's already pulling Gojo off to the side, camera in hand. You watch as she shoves a clip mic at him and starts barraging him with questions. He takes them in stride, answering animatedly and at one point pulling Megumi into the frame against his will.

You've actually missed talking to him the past week. It's been a hectic few days, and though you've had your share of meaningless arguments and snarky comments and eye rolls, you haven't had a real conversation with Satoru since New York. Now that you know about Tsumiki, there's a part of you that desperately wants to ask him about Geto, about why he was so against Megumi being drafted, about the conflict you can't seem to figure out.

Because despite everything, you do know Geto. And you know it wasn't mere jealousy or insecurity that had him pulling a move like that.

It jars you, shakes you, makes you question the last several years and every interaction you've ever had with him, but when Gojo catches your eye over Nobara's shoulder and smiles, you realize something.

You can't remember why you ever hated him.

directory. || prev. || next.

jjk taglist open: just send me a message!

@shutuppeter @mikikkoo @reactwithjan

shoutout to @reactwithjan for saying that gojo would order pineapple on pizza bc he would and he does.

[jexnkookie]

The Law of Attraction (Lawyer! Jung Kook x Reader) [Part 3]

Story Synopsis: Throughout his life, Jung Kook has only ever loved one girl. Despite her being out of his league and of an elite class that he wasn't born into, he fell hard, keeping his feelings a closely guarded secret. When they parted ways, and Jung Kook pursued his law career, he did so with the intent of moving on. But when she unexpectedly arrives back into his life, Jung Kook finds himself once again face to face with his own insecurities, and the girl of his dreams.

Story Rating: M (18+) [Language, sex, depression, alcoholism]

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut

Characters/Pairings: Lawyer! Jung Kook x Reader (feat. Jimin x Reader)

Chapter Word Count: 2.8k

Authors Note: I've been at home with not much to do today, so I decided to add the third chapter for you all before the weekend ends. Once again, thank you all for the kind words and taking the time to read this story. I've also decided to start a tag list, after being asked for it, so if you'd like to be included in that, please just let me know! x

Taglist: @khadeeeeej

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

The warm, morning sun peeked through the opening of the drawn curtains in your hotel bedroom, covering everything in a glowing light. Your mind slowly awoke, piecing together where you were, and what happened last night. You smiled at the thought, and reached out for your fiancé to hold him. But the side of the bed that was supposed to be his was cold and empty, making you open your eyes and furrow your brows. 

You got up slowly, walked out into the living room portion of your suite, and your eyes widened at the bottles of alcohol lining the coffee table. Jimin was there, passed out on the sofa, in a way you haven’t seen in a very long time. It made your chest ache for him, knowing he was slipping back into himself. 

“Honey?” You called out to no response. You walked over and kneeled down beside him, brushing his soft, blonde locks from his beautiful face. “Jimin…” 

He murmured something under his breath but refused to open his eyes, and moments later, he was back asleep as his body clearly tried to fight off the elevated alcohol levels in his system. You felt your eyes begin to tear up at the man in front of you, confused as to what could’ve sent him spiraling backwards. 

“You promised me you wouldn’t do this again, baby.” You whispered through spilling tears, knowing from experience that it was useless. He can’t hear you in his state. “You fucking promised me, Jimin… I-I can’t be around you right now, my love, I’m so sorry.” 

With that, you stormed into the bedroom and slid into a quick pair of leggings and a sweatshirt from your suitcase, grabbing your designer bag and phone. You began heading towards the door, but paused, looking back to the man you loved so, incredibly deeply. Not knowing what else to do to, you made your decision to look away from the heartbreaking disaster in front of you. You headed out the door, down the hall, and slipped quickly into the elevator to take you out of the building. 

The streets were busy, despite it being so early on a weekend morning. You loved the bustle of the city, as it offered a pleasant distraction. Watching people as you passed each other, you could easily slip into their life through your imagination. What job did they work? Were they single, or with someone? What did they like to eat? Did they have children? You could imagine it all, pretending to be somebody else in your mind, if only for a brief time. It was a coping strategy you learned as a girl, when you wanted to escape your own life, and the irony of it was never lost on you. You weren’t foolish, you saw the way people eyed your designer clothing, and you knew they must wonder what your life was like. They would never really knew that you would trade it all in for theirs, if it meant having a life that was just a little less complicated. 

Lost in thought, you had wandered several blocks down from your apartment, just exploring the beautiful neighborhood. You stumbled upon a homey-feeling American diner, with large windows on side, looking somewhat out of place built into the bottom floor of a large, very modern skyscraper. You could see in from where you stood across the street, and watched the staff bring coffee and delicious looking breakfast to each guest. The crosswalk light signaled green, so you began walking towards the restaurant, deciding to grab a bite to eat to clear your head. Maybe I could grab some yummy food for Jimin too, you thought, and talk things over while he sobers up. 

You entered through the front door, and the attached bell rang to alert the staff of a new customer.

“Good morning!” A sweet, red headed waitress with an apron tied around her waist called out in a sing-song voice from behind the counter. “Sit anywhere, I’ll bring you a menu!” 

“Thank you!” You responded, looking around for a place to sit. It seemed as though the place was a packed house, with every booth being taken. 

But there, in the back corner, you spotted a familiar face. Or, what you could catch of his face, as it was buried in his menu, with wide, boyish eyes looking over each option. You were thankful to see him, thinking it an intervention of some sort to keep you from having to be completely alone with your thoughts.

“Excuse me,” You walked over to the waitress who had greeted you. “That man in the corner there is a friend of mine, is he with someone?” 

“No ma’am.” She responded, shaking her head. “He likes to come in often and eat by himself.” 

“I think I’ll sit with him and surprise him, then. I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t interrupting anything.” You smiled, which she returned. “Thank you.” 

You made your way over to him, with an unwavering grin on your face. When you arrived by his table, he still hadn’t looked up, lost on the seemingly endless food options on the menu. 

“Excuse me, is this seat taken? This place is so busy, I was wondering if I could join you?” 

Jung Kook’s eyes widened at the sound of that voice. The voice he would know anywhere, pleasant and gentle. 

“Y/N?” He responded, looking up at you. “What are you doing here? A-And of course, please, sit. Um, hi.” He mentally kicked himself for stuttering. Cool. He said sarcastically to himself. 

“Hi.” You giggled at his surprised and stumbling reaction. “I just decided to leave the hotel for a bit, and I spotted this place from across the street. It’s so popular, it must be delicious.” 

“Mhm, I come here sometimes and it’s always busy.” 

“Yeah? The waitress I talked to said she sees you in here often.” 

“O-oh… Yeah, I guess she probably does.” Jung Kook said shyly. 

You both made small talk over the food, the neighborhood and the local things to do that Jung Kook has discovered in his short time being here. While the conversation itself had little significance, happening over modest diner eggs, toast and coffee, the feeling Jung Kook had was indescribable. He never forgot, even after years of being apart, just how easy it is to have a conversation with you. The way you listen so intently, and keep your attention, as though nothing else in the world mattered. It made him feel so special and seen. Your voice was just as sugary as ever, and your giggles never changed, still able to make his heart race. He wanted to hear that laugh forever, and he wanted to be the man who made it happen. 

“Where’s Mr. Park this morning?” Jung Kook asks, suddenly noticing that you were alone. 

“Oh, Jimin?” You paused, hesitation not going unnoticed by the perceptive man sitting across from you. “He, um… He just wanted to sleep in. Jet lag and all that, y’know?” 

“Oh, right.” Jung Kook nodded, not wanting to dig deeper into your pregnant pause. It isn’t my business, he thought. “He seems like a great guy, by the way. You seem happy.” 

“Y-Yeah.” You stuttered, praying tears didn’t come to your eyes. “Jimin’s really amazing, he always has been. But um, what about you, Jung Kook? Are you seeing someone?” 

“No.” Jung Kook chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee. “No, I uh… I broke off an engagement back in Korea before moving to the city.” 

“You were engaged?” You asked, making sure you heard him correctly. “I’m so sorry to hear that it didn’t work out.” 

Jung Kook paused, thinking back to the woman whose heart he broke, as he looked at the woman who he’s always truly loved. You’re the reason I couldn’t love her. He said internally, gazing at your face. 

“It’s ok. I just think she wasn’t the one for me.” 

“Yeah? It sounds like you believe that everyone has someone perfect out there, just for them.” You said with a smile, and Jung Kook looked at your face, adoring the way the morning sun attached itself to your skin, making you glow. “I think so, too.” 

“I’ve always believed that. Everyone deserves to find their happiness.” Jung Kook said, his tone shifting in a way you couldn’t quite place, but his chocolate brown eyes were delicate as he looked at you. He swallowed, his tone heavy yet genuine when he added, “I’m glad you and Jimin found each other.” 

Your lips parted, attempting to find words that weren’t there. So you just nodded and offered a polite smile. The silence was thankfully cut short by the waitress, who brought your check. You went to reach for your wallet, but Jung Kook pulled his card out first and laid it onto the table. 

“Please, let me.” He said, his voice warm. “We’ll call it a thank you, for surprising me. I’m glad you did.” 

“Ok.” You grinned, unsure as to why your cheeks were heating up at his compliment. 

While you and Jung Kook were lost in your breakfast and conversation, Jimin had woken up to an empty hotel room. His head ached, but no worse than his chest did when he realized your absence. He had wanted to crawl into bed with you, hold you tight, and apologize for what he had done in the best way he knew how; cover your body with love, and spend the morning buried between your thighs as he pleasured you with kisses and soft, pressured licks.  But when the bed was empty, the panic set in. 

Quick thinking led him to go to his phone, and find your location, as you always shared your location with each other. He spotted your little dot on his phone at a diner, just a few blocks away, and Jimin felt a bit of comfort wash over him. She was just hungry. He thought, taking a deep breath. Let’s meet her there, she’ll be surprised. 

But what Jimin had not expected, was to see him there. The puppy-eyed lawyer sat across from you, and Jimin could tell even from across the street than the man held on to every word you said. Jimin knew that look well, because it’s how he looks at you, too. Jimin grits his teeth, and sends a quick text message to his main lawyer, Kim Namjoon. 

9:11 a.m: Something needs to be done about the new rookie on your team, because spending time alone with my fiancé is wildly inappropriate. See to it that this doesn’t happen again, or I will be finding new representation.  

9:12 a.m: *image attached* 

Jimin takes one last look at the scene in front of him, and goes back to the hotel room. He orders three more bottles, and passes out once again. 

——————————————————————————————————

On Monday morning, Jung Kook was feeling light. He entered his law firm building as he does every day; a freshly pressed black suit on, his dark hair neatly styled, and a cup of coffee in his hand. But this morning, he felt a bit happier, attributing it to a simple breakfast shared with you the weekend prior. He wished he could have breakfast with you every morning, but buried that thought, not daring to spoil his mood with fantasies. 

He sat down at his office desk, and began looking through his weekly calendar and emails. This week was the final week or preparation before the Park Jimin case truly begins, and Jung Kook was fully ready to explain to his mentor why he had told him last minute he needed to recuse himself. It would be the right, responsible thing to do, and it would give him space from you. As much as he wished he didn’t need it, he felt that he needed to move on. You found your happiness. It’s time to let you go. 

Namjoon entered Jung Kook’s office, and closed the door behind him. Jung Kook looked up at his face, which usually held a gentle, welcoming smile. This morning, however, Namjoon was clenching his jaw like a father who was trying not to explode on his son. 

“Jung Kook.” Namjoon said, his voice scarily calm. “I want… No, I need you to be honest with me. What is going on with you and Mr. Park’s fiancé?” 

“I’m not sure I know what you’re referring to.” Jung Kook answered professionally, causing Namjoon to roll his eyes. 

“For fuck’s sake, kid, drop the act.” Namjoon deep voice was almost a growl. “I’m going to lose out on a top client because you can’t keep your nose where it belongs.” 

“What-” Jung Kook was stopped by Namjoon throwing his phone down on his desk, a picture illuminating the screen. Jung Kook squinted at it, to see a photo of himself and you at the diner. 

“How did you get this photo?” Jung Kook asked, his heart sinking. 

“Mr. Park saw you. He’s furious.” Namjoon explained, pacing back and forth. “He called it ‘wildly inappropriate’, and threatened to find new representation if it happens again.” 

“Mr. Kim, I’m so sorry.” Jung Kook panicked. “Please understand, it’s a misunderstanding. Nothing happened, we was just-”

The office door knob turned, and a hush fell over the room. Jimin and yourself stood there at the door, hand in hand. Namjoon and Jimin locked eyes, and Namjoon could see that the client looked worse than he did just a few days prior. Dark, prominent circles were under his eyes, and his hair was slightly messier than before. Jung Kook noticed none of that, however, and stared directly at you. 

You were wearing dark sunglasses, with no thought to take them off despite being indoors. Your hair was seemingly brushed quickly, notably and uncharacteristically  not put together well. Your loose fitting clothes seemed carelessly thrown on, not styled perfectly in your usual fashion. You were quiet, head down, tightly holding Jimin’s hand and appeared to make yourself smaller, like you wanted to vanish into thin air. Jung Kook wanted so desperately to bring you in and hold you, shield you from whatever it was that made you look so tired, in such a short amount of time. 

“Mr. Park.” Namjoon greeted. “Good morning.” 

“Good morning.” Jimin responded, his throat sounding hoarse. “I came to fill out any paperwork, and tie up loose ends before we meet again next week.” 

“Of course, I was just talking with Mr. Jeon. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

“Mr. Jeon,” Jimin called out, his voice weak. “Mr. Kim informed me you were recusing yourself from my legal team for this case. I just wanted to thank you, for the work you’ve done.” 

“Y-You’re welcome, Mr. Park.” Jung Kook said, confused with the kind words. This wasn’t the furious tone that Namjoon had described. 

“My love,” Jimin turned to you, his voice extra soft and delicate. “Will you go with Mr. Kim to his office, please? I’ll be there soon, I just wanted to speak to Mr. Jeon privately about the case before he leaves us. I had some questions.” 

“Ok.” You said, your voice almost a whisper. Jimin squeezes your hand and kisses the top of your head before turning to Namjoon, who nods in understanding. 

“Right this way, Ms. Y/L/N.” Namjoon says gently, leading you out of the office. 

When you are out of sight, Jimin turns to you. The fury Namjoon spoke about is now prominent in his eyes, leading Jung Kook to realize that your presence is the thin defense that keeps his anger at bay. 

“Jeon Jung Kook.” Jimin spat. “I don’t know where you get off, eyeing up my fiancé in some cheap diner, but if I ever catch you sniffing around her again, I’ll ruin you. Do you understand me?” 

“Mr. Park, I never meant to offend you.” Jung Kook said. “Nothing happened. We just bumped into each other.” 

“I don’t want excuses, or explanations from you.” Jimin rolled his eyes. “I’m not a fucking idiot Mr. Jeon, I see the way you look at her. I’m warning you, to watch yourself. You’re from Busan, correct?” 

“Yes, Mr. Park.” 

“Then you know who I am, and who my father is.” Jimin’s voice was dripping in anger. “I will personally see to it that you never represent anyone in our city, or this city again, if you come near her. That’s a promise.” 

Jung Kook felt suffocated under the weight of the air and the weight of Jimin’s glare. Even in his disheveled state, his blonde locks dropping to his face couldn’t cover the anger in his eyes. Jimin stormed out of his office, slamming the door behind him, causing other office workers to startle and look into his room. Jung Kook buried his head in his hands, unsure as to what the right path to move forward is. 

[apomaro-mellow]

Jeff just looked at Steve’s retreating form wide eyed. “He’s a whole idiot. A fucking moron, I swear.”

Eddie was watching as Steve walked away as well, but with an altogether different emotion in his eyes.

“Steve Harrington is anything but an idiot.”

“How d’you figure?”, Gareth asked.

Because when you’re prey, you couldn’t afford to be stupid. A smart rabbit knew when to hunker down and hide. A smart deer knew when to bolt. Eddie had laid out the trap: a flirtatious remark. Steve had looked right down at it and turned away because he wasn’t going to be caught so easily.

Eddie was going to have to be smarter too.

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

Eddie had a strategy when he wanted just blood. Get ‘em alone, compel them a bit, get a bite, leave ‘em disoriented and play it off like they’d just taken a weird hit of whatever strain he was selling.

When he wanted more than blood, when he wanted someone, he had a different tactic. It started with light flirting. The kind you could joke about. That was how he had started with Steve. But Steve had just looked at him, eyes wide and innocent like he couldn’t understand what Eddie was insinuating when he said he wanted a taste.

“And I don’t mean the cone”, Eddie had said, glancing at the ice cream in Steve’s hand.

That hadn’t landed. And it burned Eddie inside. He had to be more blatant. His fangs were itching to sink into that flesh but Steve Harrington had continued to evade him.

It all came to a head when Eddie found himself at a Harrington house party. Normally he hung around for a bit to deal, then bounced. But tonight he was planning on completing his conquest. Steve was always surrounded by people though. It was hard to pick him off.

There was a moment when he’d lost him. And in the heat and hormones of a teen crowd, he couldn’t sniff him out. Then someone tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey, Steve’s lookin’ for you.” It was some guy Eddie didn’t know well and he was talking like Steve was hankering for some weed. Like he couldn’t just find him himself. But some folks preferred to smoke to relax and not to party so he wasn’t too surprised to be sent up his room.

Eddie made it up there and found Steve, leaning against his doorway, a perfect line from head to toe. He looked up at Eddie through his lashes.

“Hey. Wanna come in?”

His bedroom. The room where so many had spent a night with Steve Harrington and came out with a story to tell. Eddie couldn’t believe it. Had he somehow lucked into Steve’s pants? 

He took a step forward and caught an almost smug look on Steve’s face as he took a step backward into his room.

Wait.

Wait just a damn second.

“You’ve been hunting me.”

“I’ve been luring you, it’s a little different.”

“You know what I am?”

“I know you’re allergic to garlic. And that you need my permission to cross the threshold”, Steve said.

“And?”

Steve slipped his fingers through the belt loops of Eddie’s pants and pulled him in. Eddie closed the door behind him. To catch or be caught, either was fine by him.

[lo1k-diamonds]

Stellar Behavior 💜 Part 7 (end)

"I said I like it fucking quiet.”

PAIRING: Officer!Yoongi x Mafia (f)reader

SUMMARY: Yoongi thought it would be bliss from now on, but not yet. Not until you both own the city.

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

GENRE: Gangster AU, Law AU, enemies to lovers, smut

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: angst, plotting, kidnapping, blood, violence, knifes, guns, physical violence, death. (Am I forgetting something?)

A.N. Ahh, no way I could just let them be happy, okay? Not without suffering first, it's my style 🤣 Again, infinite thank yous to @moonleeai and @downbad4yoongi for helping me around the clock and being incredible betas! Check out their fics too! Now get ready 😎

Masterlist | Masterpost | AO3 | Wattpad | < Previous Chapter

Yoongi didn't know life could be like this. Once, he had been sold on that dream; it was the reason why he got married, bought a house, and started on the force. He wanted a loving home and family, and everyone told him to follow those steps to get there.

You were everything he had ever dreamed, immersing him in a bliss he never thought possible. That day, at the charity event, you took charge of things. You left with him, took him home, and spent the next twenty-four hours making up for the lost time. Your sheets didn't witness just your bodies reattuning to each other, but also the other moments when your hearts did. When you told him so much more about what you did, what you had in motion, what you proposed to secure both his and your positions, and how you planned on providing the best for your unborn child.

“Ours,” he corrected gently, kissing the back of your fingers.

You looked up with your head on his chest, and a moment later, you just nodded, “Ours.”

At that moment, he was willing to compromise for you — whatever you needed. He just didn't think it would come in the form of you not letting him leave.

He all but moved in with you soon after, and at 34 weeks, he believed he'd never leave. You adored snuggling up to him at all times of day, especially because he massaged you all over while you talked. Someone almost busted a plan of yours? You could vent while he thumbed the ball of your foot. A politician was acting ridiculous? Your hands and arms needed to let go of the stress you accumulated during the day. You had stood for hours at a charity event? Those idiots should be sued for having you standing like that; your legs needed the soothing of his fingers. You were still on your computer when he arrived home from work? Your shoulders needed to be relieved of the tension.

He still had to work and there was no way you'd pause your work, not when you had a grand plan to own the city, just like he suggested. You had decided you didn’t need to excel in every business you had to control the city, especially because the top was naturally the first to be challenged. You were too branched out, and it wouldn’t pay off — if you tried to dominate everyone, you were inviting multiple enemies to ally themselves to throw you down. Not even Yoongi would be able to help you, despite him assuring you he would. 

“I’m not interested in destroying what makes you our good half,” you had chuckled when he brought it up again. You looked beautiful under the dim lights of your bedroom, naked with your baby bump up, half lying on him in bed. This was something he couldn’t do without anymore. “We’re stronger if they don’t suspect you have hidden interests. If they think I’m a woman alone, I seem fragile. A kid will help. It’s all about finding the right balance, because if I’m too weak, they’ll destroy me. You can be our secret weapon.”

Your teasing grin as your tongue peeked between your teeth made him laugh. Ultimately, you knew your way around that world far better than he did. He’d always trust you with it.

Your strategy was to have insurance. If you had dirt on everyone and monopolized at least that market, you would be as safe as possible. Your downfall would just be too risky all around, and it would be less likely that your enemies would become friends trying to overthrow you. You wouldn’t be a significant enough threat to alarm other organizations, but you’d easily manipulate things in the shadows — everyone won.

You had started with medium management, as you liked to call it, and worked your way up. You already had a pretty big web of people working for you on the inside in various industries — other mob families, prisons, the police, the military, the entertainment and media conglomerates, even hospitals and pharmaceutical companies, without mentioning politics. Your tycoon status allowed you to keep an eye on the echelon, which meant you had everything covered. A politician wanted to do something you didn’t like? You knew of their kids’ DUIs, and the scandal was just too easy. Someone didn’t want to fundraise for the Mayor you had chosen? You had reports of companies faking quality control reports for products or negligence in the hospitals; you would leverage the media to destroy their business overnight. The media heads themselves didn’t want to cooperate? Too easy to leak footage of them in brothels or orgies that could ruin their entire reputation. And all mob families had their weaknesses; having people in the prisons and low-level thugs meant you’d know what you needed to keep them at bay. In essence, a network that gave you just enough to have leverage but not enough to be a direct threat to anyone.

He admired you for handling everything with such zeal and trusted you absolutely to take care of things. On his side, he was more worried about assuring the one thing you were most likely to overlook: your safety. First, he became intimately involved with your security details. All of your staff answered to him, which he liked. On top of that, he had his officers keeping an eye on you as well. Some probably suspected this wasn't about a case, but Yoongi didn't care as long as you were safe.

You had worked hard all over those months to carry out your master plan. It was ambitious, and if the pieces fell into place, not even Jae Seong Seok could touch you. The frustration was in getting the last piece of information — if you could find out who he was working with now, you'd be able to use your network and have him in your hand. But whoever he was working with, he was keeping it under wraps.

“It's ridiculous!” You whined, despite Yoongi massaging your shoulders. “It's a better kept secret than who the President's mistress is! Fuck!”

You jumped up from your office chair in a burst of anger, only to groan and take support on the desk. Yoongi was instantly behind you as you rubbed your swollen tummy; he didn't even flinch when you gave him a look between petulance and tiredness.

“It doesn’t matter—”

“It fucking does,” you insisted, falling back into him when he hugged you from behind. “Without knowing who is doing the Commissioner's bidding, we’re blind to his plans. It means we have a blind spot and—”

You held your breath, scrunching your nose with instant relief. He had just taken the weight out of your strained back by raising your belly, and you could breathe freely for a moment.

“Is that okay?” 

His voice was a whisper to your ear that had you sighing praises. He kissed your neck the whole time until he had to let go slowly, gently, distracting you with his lips on your skin before you’d get grumpy again.

“Didn’t you have someone on his team?”

“I lost them a couple of weeks after I told you that. He took exile in Heuksando last I heard.”

Your head fell back into his shoulder and he hummed, “I’m sure we’ll know something soon. Between your people and mine, we’re bound to hear or notice something. It’s a matter of time.” You pursed your lips, rubbing your belly again; time was a luxury you did not have. “Besides,” he spun you so you’d face him. “He’s not stupid. He wouldn’t just attempt to get rid of you; he probably knows we’re together.”

Your expression didn’t smooth, “For as long as he does bullshit without us knowing, we won't own the city.”

He nuzzled you, “He’s just one man. One tiny, meaningless man. Don’t worry about it.”

You didn’t seem fully convinced but you definitely relaxed in his arms that night, and the few nights after. Yoongi believed what he had told you: if the both of you were blinded to the Commissioner’s movements, then he was to yours too. You were stronger than him, you were together. You were bound to win.

But that night when he drove to the Aether at the maximum speed his car allowed, he wondered if he’d been too naive. If it was right to think that owning 98% of the city was enough to protect you and your child, only to learn the worst way possible that it could all fall through the cracks.

He arrived at the club, and from the outside it might have looked like the security were handling a typical problem, like a rowdy customer. When Thoma greeted him at the entrance, Yoongi followed him hurriedly, his blood freezing inside his veins. Your head of security didn’t just make that face for no reason.

Still, Yoongi couldn’t have believed it until he saw it with his own eyes. Before he got to your office, he passed your security and staff being checked by medics in the hallway, some even bleeding on the floor, almost passed out. Yet, when he entered your office, the situation dawned on him.

You had put up a fight. Your office was completely upside down, with your screen and papers on the floor, fallen chair, and broken glass everywhere. There was blood on the floor, which he kneeled to see. His fists closed instantly at the thought of you getting hurt, but maybe you had hurt them instead before they took you. You were good with your knife. He looked around; he couldn’t see it anywhere.

He got up, “Who the fuck?”

He asked simply, quietly, and Thoma answered, “Look at the back of the door.”

Yoongi turned, his dark eyes scanning the open door for traces of it being used or handled some way. His long, black raincoat billowed behind him as he moved and quickly used a glove to push the door closed.

I also prefer it quiet.

The scribbles or the paper glued to the door made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

“Does it mean anything to you?”

Yoongi’s eyes were the color of death, “Yes, and it does for you, too. You’re going to do exactly as I say.”

Thoma disagreed with Yoongi’s instructions, but he’d carry them out anyway. Yoongi didn’t care about the man’s opinion; it wasn’t him who was about to lose his whole life to a bug he didn't squish properly.

When Yoongi had decided to help you back when it was a conscious decision. Not just to step into your life, but to stay in it. To make it better. To use what he had at his disposal to do so. He didn’t regret it for a second, not even now. Some would say he was reaping what he sowed, but that was a stupid understanding of the situation. A coward’s subservient view on what was happening — when they touched you, they knew there were only two possible outcomes. And for Yoongi, there was only one. 

Of course, Thoma didn’t like calling the police and reporting the assault or that you were kidnapped. But the police responded to Yoongi in that area, so that wasn’t the problem. He didn’t like that he was to play dumb and not tell them who had done it. Eventually, they would be shown footage that Officer Jung could recognize, all to buy Yoongi the right amount of time. 

Because to Yoongi there was only one outcome. As he stopped in a hidden alley without cameras, he opened the trunk of his car and pulled the bottom to reveal a secret compartment where he had an arsenal. He picked and loaded a pistol, screwed in the silencer, and hid it along with magazines under his long raincoat. Then, he made his way to the back of the Evgeni Sports Center.

Yoongi refused one of the possible outcomes as if it wasn’t possible. That was maybe why he entered the building casually and unnoticed amidst a football game, making the big crowd watching it on the flat screen completely wild. The beer was plentiful, as were the cheers, and he was able to swiftly enter the kitchen in the back, where the staff didn’t dare look at him. He was a man with a purpose and only one option.

When he reached the back door and went down the stairs, he grabbed his pistol and started his work. There was only one justice down there — the one he inflicted himself. Big or small, he didn’t care. People fell like flies before the commotion began and even then, to reach him was a nearly impossible task. He was an agent of death dealing it swiftly to everyone who had dared to condone this heinous crime. To touch you at any point would have been dangerous, but now? It was a death wish — the only possible outcome.

Blood tainted the walls at his passage while he shot, punched, and kicked whoever dared to stand in his way to find you. He noticed the heavy metal doors, knowing they hid bullshit that wasn’t meant to be found, but he continued. It would be a shit show, but he didn’t care. His officers would show and turn the place upside down. Weapons? Drugs? Torturing people? He huffed and wiped the blood off his knuckles; all fine and dandy, but not what he was looking for.

He didn’t mean to, but he ended up cleaning that floor like it was a military operation. No one but people being tortured were left alive in his wake; no witnesses, no surprises. All he wanted was you, he’d leave once he got what he came for.

He held his gun up and in position as he faced the last door at the end of the corridor. It took him one second to calculate the odds of finding you there. Then he risked it and opened it, only for a kick to hit his hands hard.

He grunted, and although he didn’t instantly loosen his grip on the weapon, a punch to his back made his form crumble.

A series of punches made him grunt and raise his arms to defend himself, and a careful dance ensued. Yoongi almost lost his patience as he handled that single amazing enemy, but then two things happened: his pistol fell to the floor, and he saw you.

You were sitting on a lonesome chair in the middle of that humid, dark storage room, tied and pale. He instantly saw your shining eyes and the hairs glued to your forehead with sweat, your chest heaving tensely over your swollen belly, and knew he hadn’t come fast enough. He needed to get to you.

Those fuckers just had to keep their strongest guy next to you. It pissed Yoongi off; he much rather shoot him too. But he was forced to fight and manage the situation, not letting him get near you or the gun.

After a succession of punches and counters, Yoongi landed a punch on the guy’s ear and made a judgment call that put everything in jeopardy — he ran to you. Your eyes widened, seeing the guy behind Yoongi rush for the gun on the floor. He was dizzy from the punch, and your brain struggled — even if you warned him, Yoongi would never make it back in time to grab it.

So you shook your leg frantically, “The knife!”

Yoongi rushed to kneel before you and grab the knife, thinking to use it to set you free, but you kicked him as hard as you could.

A gunshot echoed and Yoongi’s breath caught as he fell back to the floor. For a second, he thought his life was over — not because he had been shot, but because you had.

But a split second was enough to hear the bullet ricocheting off somewhere and hear the guy fall to the floor. Yoongi’s training kicked in and two seconds later, he was on top of the guy, trying to finish it. His enemy was brave, dizzy, and without balance, but he was still a tougher foe than most people Yoongi had encountered in his career or training. The pistol had fallen somewhere when the guy had lost his balance, so it was all about the knife. They started fighting for it and in a slip of his hand, the guy caught it, and slash.

Yoongi grunted and fell back, holding onto his face more with shock and instinct, than actual pain. He thought he was blind for a moment, feeling something thick on his fingers while his sight darkened, but he couldn’t stop. To stop was to endanger you, and he couldn’t allow that to happen. He opened his good eye and, seeing the guy with his back turned advancing toward you, Yoongi rushed to kick him as hard as he could in the back of the knee.

The guy fell forward with a grunt, letting the knife fly away, and in your attempts to escape him, you leaned back on the chair. The push was enough to make you gasp and fall back with a bang that scared Yoongi shitless. His head was hurting, and along with the blood covering his eye, it put him off balance, to his frustration. He gritted his teeth, trying to get to the fallen guy by crawling; it wasn’t like it was his ears, so his balance was fine. It was just his damn eye!

But he didn’t move fast enough; suddenly, he heard steps rushing and tried to get back on track and jump on the guy, but he couldn’t see him. It was too late.

A gunshot echoed again, and this time a body hit the floor. Yoongi sat up and rubbed at his eyes roughly, widening his eyes to check on you , and there you were. In the same dress as this morning, though covered in sweat, dry blood, dust and now even chair bits from when it shattered with your fall, standing a few steps away from him, emotionlessly eying the guy you had shot in the head.

Then, you rushed to his side and kneeled. Yoongi wanted to grab you close, speechless, but you grabbed his head instead and brushed his longer dark hair aside.

You sighed in relief, “You’re okay, it’s just a scratch.”

He blinked at you, finally acknowledging the sting on his eyelid and cheek and that he could see fine, but instantly it didn’t matter. He widened his eyes at you, raising his arms around you, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

You meant to get up, but you groaned. Something wasn’t right.

Yoongi called your name and you looked at him. It was as though you had gone deaf; his lips were moving but you could barely hear him.

“You’re bleeding.”

“What?”

“You’re bleeding,” he repeated, supporting you more steadily, trying to calm you, but you were confused.

“I’m not, I’m fine. I wasn’t shot.”

“No,” he brushed your cheeks gently, trying to make you focus. “You’re bleeding.”

It was like a CD entered the slot and it finally dawned reality on you. You looked down, holding onto his arms around you, and the pain hit you like a truck. You were bleeding down your legs, and suddenly you were dizzy. Your legs couldn’t hold you; you only wanted to curl around yourself and he let you down slowly.

“It hurts—”

“Breathe.”

Yoongi started the breathing exercises you both had learned but the way you glared at him was enough.

“I’ll carry you out. Ready?”

Your groan had a pitch of fear, but you bit your lip and screamed through the pain as he lifted you in his arms. Everything was a blur; hot and cold sweats going up and down your spine as you tried not to scream your pain out. It was visceral, terrifying, and rife with despair— something was wrong. You needed help. Now.

Once upstairs, people had scattered in a commotion, but fortunately, it seemed nobody quite knew what was going on. Some were running outside, others were filming, but the center's staff was surprisingly quiet. It was almost like suddenly, there was no one to take charge.

Fortunately, an ambulance had already been called to tend to the reported distress at the building. So when Yoongi stepped out with you in his arms, the paramedics quickly turned to the pregnant person with a bloody dress instead of a drunk making a scene.

In a matter of seconds, you were on a stretcher being carried inside the ambulance, and Yoongi wanted to go with you. 

But you held his hand, “No.”

He frowned, but you just looked behind him and then gave him a look, and he understood. He let go of your hand and instantly turned back as swiftly as possible. The crowd was in shock with the reported noise and the bloodied pregnant woman that just passed by them, and so, distracted.

Yoongi rushed downstairs, leaving the door closed behind him. He grabbed your blade and his pistol, then quickly looked around. It was a storage room with all sorts of boxes and containers, and he needed something that could destroy evidence fast, but not so fast that all the people tied up in other rooms, bleeding to death, couldn’t be rescued in time.

In the end, he found flammable paint and poured it on stacks of documents far back in the room before setting them on fire with a lighter. He hoped the humidity made the fire spread slowly enough, but even just the water from the sprinklers would help once they were triggered.

After dealing with that, he made his way completely upstairs through another set of stairs that weren’t accessible to the public. 

He had been there before, so he knew exactly where to go and that there were no cameras. He assumed he had killed most of the goons because only a handful tried to stop him. By then, he had reloaded, and nothing could stand in his way. Something was wrong; you weren’t supposed to be bleeding. It was too soon. It was all those fuckers fault!

He reached the office of Prokhor Evgeni and staggered for a second — Jae Seong Seok was sitting right there as though he had had an audience with the Russian. Both older men looked scared, which made the situation strange, almost comical. Only Yoongi wasn’t in a laughing mood; he raised his pistol and shot precisely twice.

Each man fell back onto their chair or on the floor while Yoongi pushed his hair back with annoyance, flaring, “I said I like it fucking quiet.”

Before his anger could go further, his phone started buzzing inside his pocket, and he sobered up. That meant Thoma had told Officer Jung what he needed to know; that signaled that the force was establishing a perimeter and a team to swarm the place.

He holstered his gun on his belt, then quickly put on gloves and searched for each man’s guns. Prokhor had one in his desk drawer, and Yoongi used it to shoot Jae Seong Seok a couple of times before shooting all around the room and throwing it on the floor. The Commissioner had a revolver with him, and it wasn’t hard to shoot in Prokhor’s direction and simulate a scene. Would it raise questions? Absolutely. But the more questions it raised, the harder it would be to get to the actual truth.

Yoongi went downstairs and blended in with the crowd still lingering about before reaching for the fire alarm to pull it. A loud siren went off, and the fire in the basement must have finally triggered the sprinklers because they went off, too. He made his way out amongst everybody else. Then, he faced the sky and started laughing.

He thought to just take out his raincoat so no one would know he was inside, but it was raining outside. So he stood there under the rain, smirking, letting it wash away the blood from his face, clothes, and any evidence that he had been inside.

He stood under the elements the whole time, the image of diligence coordinating the police and firemen who responded to the scene. It was a bloodbath and instantly the bodies became the reason for a national scandal. The media couldn’t get enough of it, especially the bit about the Commissioner and the Head of a Mafia family. The officers, though, were more inclined to believe the Commissioner had come to save you in person, and something had gone wrong. Maybe your child was even his. It would make sense, considering both your statuses. Maybe you were having an affair.

Yoongi focused on making sure that everything was accounted for, even the witnesses that said he was seen before the firemen and police arrived. He made sure their statement was taken too because they were contradictory with other witnesses. Some saw him carrying a pregnant lady, some only saw him when the alarm went off. The more information the police had, the better.

But it didn’t mean he wasn’t worried about you. He understood why you asked him to stay, he needed to finish things and handle the outcome. After all, you both needed to own that city.

But he was dying to hear news from you. He had texted your people as soon as he had a second, so he knew they were with you, but still. Waiting just wasn’t possible, not tonight.

He was smoking and wrapping up the last details before the scene could be sealed when his phone buzzed inside his pocket. He picked it up this time, and the wails of a baby caught his breath.

“Is it done?”

“Yes,” he breathed, then he closed his eyes. “Our boy?”

“Eager to meet you.”

“You?”

“Come see for yourself.”

He didn’t need anything else to tell the last Officers on the scene he was leaving. He walked away to reach his car, then drove calmly to the hospital. He was drenched, so he left his raincoat inside the car and got on the elevator straight to the level you were in.

You were in a private, spacious room with everything you could need. It was just you, already wearing something of your own under the sheets, snoozing with a baby to your chest. Yoongi neared you and kissed your forehead, closing his eyes with the relief flooding him. You awoke with his touch and leaned in closer. He smelled of rain and new beginnings.

When he pulled away, you reached to touch the cut. Someone had cleaned it, leaving it red and furious across his eye, top to bottom. Looking into each other’s eyes, you knew the other was fine. Each with your own pain, but united in that moment, at last.

Finally, Yoongi took a look at his son. He was reddened too, with puffy cheeks and pouty lips, just like yours. He leaned in to kiss and nuzzle his son with a heart so full, he couldn’t speak. All he could do was sit on the bed, embracing you and him in his arms. 

You were looking at your baby before you noticed your position, englobing your son on two fronts, completely. Your lips curved, and you looked at Yoongi. You had finally won.

There we have it! I hope it was a nice, wild ride! 😁👋💜

[chrattenthusiast]

Hate - Matthew sturniolo pt2

Authors note: the last part was inspired by all i wanted - paramore !!!!

Warnings- choking, spitting and ofc sex😆

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

The past week had been an agonizing descent into emotional chaos. Each day felt like a struggle to maintain composure as the memory of Matthew, the man you had vowed to hate, occupied every inch of my mind. Simple tasks became a challenge, as your thoughts were constantly hijacked by his presence, even in his absence. Desperate for a distraction, you convinced yourself that avoiding Matthew would be the solution, attempting to dodge him at every turn.

However, your well-intentioned strategy crumbled when Nick and Chris, refused to let you retreat into solitude. Dragged you against your will, they insisted on taking you to a random party, determined to shake you out of your self-imposed isolation. , you found yourself amidst a sea of strangers, the pounding music and swirling lights serving as a temporary escape from the last weekend how he knew every inch of your body, the way he pounded into you and how he always knew how to make you feel good.

Hey, are you listening?" The interruption jolted you back to the present, you replied with a forced, "Yeah, I am," masking the lie behind a half-hearted smile. My attention, however, was fixated on the man in front of me, who seemed oblivious to the fact that his words about his brand new car were falling on deaf ears. As he rambled on, his enthusiasm only fueled your growing irritation. The beer bottle in your hand became a tempting, makeshift weapon.

Glancing around the room, filled with sweaty bodies and the pungent scent of marijuana, you caught sight of Matthew. His gaze, like an invisible thread, connected with yours. His face contorted with a mixture of annoyance and anger as he witnessed the man boldly wrapping his arm around your waist. you couldn't help but smile, realizing that you were successfully getting under Matthew's skin. Testing your luck, you seized the opportunity to escalate the situation further, grabbing the man (whose name you had already forgotten) and planting a kiss on him. To your surprise, he didn't seem to mind; instead, his grip on your waist tightened.

Just as the tension reached its peak, the atmosphere shifted abruptly. The man was forcefully shoved away from you as you turned to see Matthew, his eyes shooting daggers at the now bewildered intruder.

"Bro, what the fuck is your problem" the man exclaimed in confusion as Matt stepped forward menacingly.

"Don’t ever touch her again, unless you enjoy the comfort of a hospital bed." Matt warned with an intensity that sent a shiver down the man's spine.

Stammering, he offered a shaky apology, “I didn’t know she was spoken for”

What a fucking pussy, you thought

Interrupted mid-thought, you found yourself yanked away from the growing crowd that had formed around. Matt's grip on your arm was firm, and as he pulled you away, the chaotic scene behind faded into the background.

“Where are we going Matt” — your left unanswered as he pulls you towards the direction his car.

“Get in” he says bluntly

“No, I’m good” you say

You find yourself pushed against a car, sandwiched between the cold metal and the warmth of Matthew's body pressing against yours. His proximity was unnerving, yet strangely electrifying. "Get in the car, Y/N, or I swear to God, I will spank you so hard you won’t be able to sit for days. You choose," he declared, his voice low and authoritative and of course you couldn't help but smirk at the unexpected threat.

"How chivalrous," you whispered, teasingly testing the boundaries. His response was immediate and filled with a kind of possessiveness you hadn't anticipated. "Only for you, sweetheart, although you seem to not get that. How many times do I need to fuck the shit out of you he began, his frustration evident, "before you understand that I do. not. want to see you with other men?"

“It sounds like you’re upset, aww matthew “ you say mockingly

“Did he really upset you?, Did you not like the way he was touching m-“ you’re instantly cut off when matt wraps his fingers around your neck slightly adding pressure

“Get in the backseat. Now” he whispers against your lips

Weird. Matt never acted impulsively. You instantly obey as his eyes showed a little desperation and you liked that. of course

You quickly slide into the back seat, with Matt following closely behind. Without delay, he seizes the back of your head, pulling you into a passionate kiss that feels both necessary and possessive. You have no complaints.

Tugging at your top in a demanding manner, you raise your hands, but instead, Matt forcefully tears your top in half, planting intense kisses all over your chest. Gripping your ankle, he pulls you into a reclined position.

Lifting your skirt without bothering to remove it, he slides down your panties and tucks them into his back pocket.

his fingers move through your slit back and forth inciting a moan from you, finding your clit he circles it. matt leans backward wanting a full view. wanting this moment engraved in his mind every time he thought of you. you move to palm him through his pants when he pins your hands on the seat. “ just be a good girl for me and sit back”

He inserts two fingers, his cool rings teasing your clit, creating a pleasurable friction. Your hips instinctively sync with his motions,

He tightens his grip around your neck. As he quickens the pace of his finger thrusts, you release another gasp of pleasure.

You try to hold in your sounds, trying to move away from his fingers he adds pressure to his grip around your neck. “where you tryna to go baby?, where’s that good girl that could take it all hmm”

“you were so confident a minute ago, yet you can’t handle my fingers,” he mocks

he decides to add a third finger, curling his fingers hitting that sweet spot he knew you loved.

“matt please “ you’re able to plead in the midst of your moans

“Isn't this what you wanted? I didn't give you enough attention, so you tried getting with someone who couldn’t even get you this wet” he says

you look down at how you were taking his fingers causing you to grow wetter, causing a small wet spot to the leathered seat

"Do you enjoy watching yourself?" he asks, and you respond with a soft whimper.

you’re about to hit that level of release, based on the lack of words being said by you. matt immediately pulls his fingers out earning a protest from you, which he ignores looking at you smugly he takes his fingers covered with your essence putting it to his mouth sucking off your juices he leans down connecting his lips with yours making you taste yourself.

“you taste that?, that’s all me. not him“ he reminds you

“if you wanna cum you’re gonna have to earn it, now take my pants off “ he says voice dripping with dominance

your shaky hands move to his belt unbuckling it. he takes a hold of the belt wrapping it around your wrist. you look at him confused sure it wasn’t unusual for matt to pull a stunt like this —but in public. with his brothers a street away from the both of you. gave you a rush of excitement

he takes of his boxers lining up with your entrance. he decides to tease you further. moving up your folds and without warning slams into you giving you harsh thrusts. giving you no leeway to adjust

you let out the loudest moan which he doesn’t stops. he likes this. he was always a fan of hearing how good HE made you feel

“that’s it, let it all out for me baby” he encouraged

“fuck you” you reply, Disliking how much influence he had on you, a feeling clearly rooted in the fear of experiencing heartbreak.

He clenches your jaw, making you open your mouth, then spits into it. "Swallow," he commands, and you comply, staring at him with lowered eyelashes.

“i know you can’t get enough of me, you’ll always come back to me. no matter how much you try to run away. you always come back. and i’ll make you see that “he replies to your insult.

Thrusting into your hips, he targets that familiar sweet spot, causing your eyes to roll back. His hand travels toward your throat, fully enclosing it. He maintains a firm grip, allowing just enough air for you to breathe, and you moan under the pressure. However, you find yourself struggling to breathe a little.

“ look at me” he says, and you oblige

“there is no one who could ever make you feel like this. i won’t share you with anyone else.”

"Yes, Matt," you cry out, tears welling in your eyes. He gently wipes them away as you continue to gaze at him, your hands clutching the ones he has wrapped around your neck.

“ you wanna breathe?“ he says adding more pressure but making sure he wasn’t inflicting harm onto you

“please ” you beg

“come on this dick if you wanna breathe baby” he says

His fingers rubbed against your clit, bringing you closer to your release, not slowing down his movements, the only intention in his mind was to make you cum. He lifted your legs and placed them on his shoulders, wanting to feel you deeper

Leading to a loss of focus as additional tears flowed down your face.

You're under his influence, absorbing all he provides, making sure to maintain eye contact—aware of his fondness for it, yet fearing he might stop if you looked away. Yet, you found appeal in the peculiar way he gazed at you.

Closing in on your face, he eliminates any personal space between you, driven solely by the desire to prevent your escape from him. Your eyes lock onto the silver metal wrapped around his neck, lightly brushing your face —making your walls squeeze around him tighter.

“ you got this baby, just a little longer for me yeah ”he encourages

his words giving you some sort of confidence you move your hips to meet his rythym aching for that release you were denied earlier. the car slowly moving with the bucking of your hips. and filled with the grunts matt made.

he leans down his lips meet yours, matt abandons your clit, one hand still wrapped around your neck his fingers graze your lower stomach pushing slightly feeling where he was buried deep. a silent laugh escapes his lips “ you feel that don’t you sweetheart do you see how well you’re taking every inch” he mocks clearly still mad over the recent events that took place earlier

“i just did that to make you mad, i don’t want him matt “ you choke out using your limited oxygen to pled your case

“say it then, tell me that you want me and no one else “ he replies

“ i want you and no one else matt” you pled. truth laced with every word that left your mouth

“come for me “ and you do instantly releasing all over his shaft clutching onto his tatted arm. he immediately release his hand that was wrapped around your neck and you take big breath. filling your lungs with oxygen.

he gripped onto your hips, pulling you impossibly close as he comes inside you. subconsciously mimicking your habit in seeking comfort from you as well.

“are you okay.” he asks staring at your neck that had imprints of his fingers. slight guilt washing over him fearful that he might’ve pushed you passed your boundaries.

“i’m okay matt” you scratch his scalp gently to reassure him that you were okay.

A hush envelops both of you, uncertainty filling the air. Neither of you knows what to say next. After months of mutual disdain, you both finally confessed to liking each other.

After minutes of mutual silence, with your eyes lowered and bodies still connected, Matt, buried in your embrace, finally summons the courage to speak. "Did you mean what you said?" he asks.

His words quicken your heart, and as you attempt to lift from under him, he holds you firmly in place.

"Please don't walk away from me.", he manages to say, still catching his breath,

You gaze at him, releasing your grip on his tousled hair, Unable to think coherently.

"You're joking, right? I mean, we hate each other, Matt," you say, aware that your words are a lie. Beneath all the arguing and name-calling, you love him. Yet, you're foolish enough to let fear cloud your judgment.

"please don’t lie to me “ he says

"I'll be straightforward since you're stubborn. You don't want to see me with other people, and neither do I," he says, his voice resonating with honesty.

"So, cut the bullshit and let me be the man you deserve. If you don't want that, I understand. Just please have the balls to tell me, and I'll leave you alone," he says, loosening his grip on your waist.

Testing the waters, you move, and he doesn't stop you. The unspoken tension hangs in the air, awaiting the resolution that could redefine their dynamic.

Allowing him to withdraw, you grimace slightly at the sensitivity. As Matt moves away, defeated, you stare back at him, your heart still pounding from his confession. Despite the tumultuous nature of your relationship, you halt yourself from self-destruction, reluctant to spoil another delicate aspect of your connection with Matt—though delicate might not be the perfect term to describe it.

Gently cradling Matt's face like a fragile porcelain mask, your hands trembling with fear of causing harm. In a tender moment, you press a soft kiss to his lips. That simple gesture speaks volumes, conveying your unspoken desire for him. In that shared intimacy, Matt understands, and what you wanted becomes clear – him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

@mangosrar @mattsd0ll @christinarowie332 @loveesiren @cabincorematt

[rinsaint]

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓. ft atsumu miya

you find out the local loser in your school is actually a pervert

[ ☆ ] — pairing: atsumu miya x fem! reader

[ ☆ ] — contains/warnings: MDNI. nsfw, panty stealing, shy atsumu, atsumu jerks off and sniffs your panties, not rlly smut but minors dni !!

[ ☆ ] — a/n: this was sent in as a drabble from @prostheticmind !! shout out to them and their idea.

Atsumu was a mess every time he pocketed a new little treasure of yours, his hands would sweat and he would become jittery, so he always took them right before he was going home from your place, after studying. The temptation of them in his pocket was too much, like they were burning in his pocket.

He loved the adrenaline of it.

The first time he had done it, he was over at your house to finish a project. You were the popular on campus. You had every boy drawn to you, including himself. He felt lucky that you even spared a glance to him or even talked to him. Even though you forced him to do most of the project, he felt lucky that he had gotten to spend time with you, even though you didn’t feel the same way.

Atsumu had fit his hand in his jacket pocket, assuming that touching the soft fabric would calm him down a little, get him to act a bit like a person that wasn’t about to have a complete meltdown. If he thought he was being a mess before, after touching your frilly panties he had found in your laundry basket, he was practically dying.

After that, he became addicted.

He started taking the effort to make out a whole strategy to get away with his perverted needs, which was probably what made it all blow up in his face.

Things went south right as soon as he walked in through the your front door.

“you’re here early. let me get my laundry done real quick then you can do all the work, yea?”

Atsumu’s throat closed up at your words. He absolutely needed a new pair tonight, four of them already smell more like his cum after getting off on it so many times, and he was getting tired of them.

Atsumu needed to act fast, so as soon as you entered your bedroom he made a bee-line to your bathroom and closed the door. He ruffled around the basket between the sweatpants and t-shirts until he found what he was looking for. Atsumu was panting as if he was mid-way through his training, his hand was shaking as it pulled out a stitch of baby pink fabric.

It was a thong.

Atsumu didn’t know you used thongs, he must’ve missed them the previous times. He bit his lip and practically got hard thinking about you in the fabric.

It was thanks to that moment where he had to take time to gather his bearings that it all came crashing down.

Thanks to that fucking thong.

So when you swung open the door you caught him red handed, staring at you like a deer in the headlights. One hand stuffing something light pink in his pocket. Your eyes widen as you recognised what it was.

You stare at him for so long, lips slightly opened, brows lifted, a pissed off look in your eyes.

“the fuck..”

He stuttered out a response, tears prickling at the corner of his eyes.

“Y/n, please! I… it’s just… I’m sorry! I didn’t–“

“How long have you been doing this?” Your expression was unnervingly neutral, your voice strangely calm.

Atsumu had to clear his throat to sneer you, avoiding your eyes burning into his skin. “A-A month or so?”

“You’re asking me?”

Atsumu was in shock at your change in attitude. Sure, you’d always gone toe-to-toe with him whenever he started to get too clever, which was rarely. But now you were so commanding all of a sudden. And god dear he say, it turned him on.

“A month, yeah. Maybe a month and a week, t-the night you were going off about Taylor Swift’s new album”

You only let out a soft ‘Mhmm’ in reply but your gaze stayed on him. Atsumu finally managed to make his feet move and he started to back as far away from you as possible to get to the bathroom door.

“Listen y/n I’m so sorry, I know it’s disgusting. I’m gonna go and—“

“You know it’s disgusting, and you did it anyways.”

Your tone was clinical, factual, like you were discussing something trivial. Atsumu squirmed, his eyes locked on the floor.

“Yes, I know! I know—“

“You’re shaking, tsumie.” You pouted, strutting over to him, grazing your hand over his arm.

His eyes peered down to yours, and Atsumu inhales slightly. He couldn’t place it, but there was something in the way your eyes were boring into him. Something so consuming he couldn’t look away.

“You’re shaking, stuttering, your face is red… I’ve never seen you this embarrassed. You must really be ashamed of this.” You taunted, your voice smooth and teasing as your pointer finger grazed up and down his arm.

Atsumu tried speaking but words failed him so he only nodded effusively.

“And yet… You couldn’t help yourself.”

He shut his eyes, and pulled away from you but you quickly grabbed him by his arm, pulling him closer to you.

“tsumu, hey look at me.”

Atsumu relaxed into your touch, he opened his eyes and he felt his cock get tighter in his pants when you were inches away from his face.

“You couldn’t help yourself, couldn’t you? Bet you were getting off to them by rubbing it against your face, am i right?”

“y-yes..”

Your breasts pressed against his chest from how close you were to him. The lust in your eyes consuming him and swallowing him whole completely.

“Bet you’d do anything to rub your face against the real thing.”

[theemporium]

Hey Cece, happy Monday! I'm not sure if you're taking requests right now but if you are I'd (please) love fem driver x Charles or Daniel. Maybe after a race doesn't go so well she barges into the after party (in front of everyone) and demands one of them fuck her right this second 👀 thank you x

it is very much not monday anymore, i am so sorry but thank you for requesting!🖤

.

The tension had been lingering for months before this race weekend.

Everyone knew there was something brewing between you and the Aussie driver. The two of you knew it too and you both constantly toed the line of friends or something more, but there was always something holding you back from making the move.

But this weekend was different. 

It was meant to be a good weekend. Your pace was good. The car felt good. You were setting fast laps for all three practices. You even qualified pretty fucking well on Saturday afternoon in peperation for the race. But the second lights out were called, everything seemed to go to shit. 

Between bad strategy calls and even worse luck with safety cars and pit stops, you had been on edge since the race ended. You were frustrated, pissed and you needed something to take your anger out on—and getting shit-faced wasn’t enough for tonight. 

You needed something more. 

Scratch that—you needed someone. 

You had stormed into the party looking as pretty as death herself in the little black dress you slipped on, the two shots you had before you left your room only fuelling your determination as you strided through the party like it was for you—and not Max who had won the race. 

Your eyes locked on the Aussie driver as you made your way across the cramped club, pushing through the throng of dancing people until you made it to the booth where Daniel was sitting with a few other drivers and Red Bull team members.

You stopped short by the booth, your hands crossed over your chest. 

“Fucking hell, sunshine,” Daniel grinned up at you, shamelessly letting his eyes wander your figure as he took in the sight of you. “You’re looking gorgeous tonight. Is this all for little ol’ me?” 

But you were done with the teasing remarks and the back and forth game. You wanted him and you wanted to know if you were wasting your time. 

“Are you gonna fuck me or not, Ricciardo?” 

Max, who was sitting next to the Aussie driver, had all but choked on his drink as the words left your mouth, smacking his chest as he looked between the two of you with wide eyes. 

Daniel laughed nervously. “What?”

But you didn’t hesitate as you leaned over, one hand leaning on the table and the other placed on the booth just behind his head. “I have had a shit day and I need some help working things off,” you said, your voice a little lower than usual and you didn’t miss the way his eyes fell to your lips. “Now, are you gonna finally stop pissing around and fuck me, or do I need to find someone else to do it?” 

He quickly shook his head. “I’m your man, sunshine.” 

“Good. Then fuck me.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Neither one of you could be bothered waiting for a taxi to head back to the hotel, so Daniel had quickly linked your hands together and guided you towards the bathrooms at the back of the club. You both quickly scampered in, locking the door behind you before your hands were all over each other. 

“I’m gonna fuck every thought out of that pretty head of yours,” Daniel groaned from behind you as he pushed the material of your dress to your hips, tugging your panties to the side before he slid inside you, swearing at how wet and tight you were. 

“Please,” you moaned out, your hands gripping the edge of the sink as you felt him bottom out inside you.

“That’s it, beg for me,” he whispered in your ear, his hands caging you in against the sink as he began to thrust his hips, each one hard and deep. “Beg for me to fuck you dumb.” 

“Fuck me until I can’t think,” you whined to him, your eyes meeting his heated gaze in the mirror as he grinned back at you. 

“Gonna make sure my name is the only thing you remember, sunshine.”

.

[ladykailitha]

Batshit Soulmates Part 1

Yay! We have finally got to the meat of the story. And oh boy do Steve and Eddie go through it.

In Medias Res| Prologue|

***

Steve wanted nothing to do with Eddie Munson. Never had, never would. But Dustin was like a brother to him, and he would move heaven and earth to make sure the kid was safe. And he knew all too well that if he didn’t tag along, Dustin would get himself and anyone who went with him in trouble. Possibly hurt or worse. So he offered to drive.

They arrived at Reefer Rick’s place and Steve led the way. They tried the house first, but the lights were off and no one seemed to be home.

Steve was close to strangling Dustin as he kept yelling the worst possible things. But they tried the boathouse next.

He looked around but couldn’t see any drug dealing, D&D playing nerds, so he grabbed an oar that was leaning against the wall. The last thing he needed was to touch something and have it rip his arm off. He poked at the tarp.

What happened next, Steve wasn’t sure was a good or a bad thing. But it was certainly the most interesting thing that had happened to him in all of his life. And that was including finding Robin or the monster coming out of the wall at the Byers house.

The tarp ripped open and suddenly he was being slammed into the wall, a broken bottle placed to his throat. He knew that there was no way to get the leverage he needed to swing the oar to defend himself. And that’s when he felt it. He could feel the jagged edge of the bottle piercing his throat, threatening to draw blood. But he could also feel a burning on his forearm.

“Eddie!” Dustin cried out, suddenly afraid. “This is Steve. He isn’t going to hurt you.”

Steve gulped. That was certainly true. At least until they talked, anyway. He looked into Eddie’s frightened eyes and knew that Eddie wouldn’t hurt him either. But he was scared.

“Steve drop the oar!” Dustin instructed.

Steve threw the oar away. “See? I’m not armed anymore. Can you let me go?”

Eddie pushed the bottle further into Steve’s throat.

And Dustin, Robin, and Max all gasped in alarm.

“Hey, Eddie,” Dustin continued to try and soothe the scared boy. “This is Robin, you remember her from band? And this is Max. She the one that doesn’t like D&D, but she still cool.”

But nothing seemed to be working and everyone leaned forward expect the worst, when Steve spoke up.

“Eds, man,” Steve said softly. “Is–is your right arm burning all of sudden?”

“What the hell kind of strategy is that?” Robin squeaked.

But Eddie’s eyes flicked down to the arm that was holding the bottle and then back up to Steve.

He didn’t answer, but that was enough for Steve.

“Just let me pull up my sleeve,” he continued, his eyes still wild with fear. “I’ll show you, I’m safe.”

Max frowned but when she looked over at Robin and Dustin, they didn’t look confused. They looked shocked.

Robin was whispering “Oh my god, oh my god,” over and over. And Dustin was covering his broad smile with both of his hands.

She looked back over at Steve and Eddie and still didn’t understand what was going on.

Steve slowly pulled up the right sleeve of his jacket and tore off his soul patch, throwing it to the ground.

Max gasped. She knew what was happening now and she couldn’t believe it.

Eddie looked down at Steve’s arm. There it was: four stylized bats that were glowing bright red. His eyes flashed up to Steve’s again and said through a clenched jaw, “Why the fuck is mine a nail bat?”

“Oh my god!” Robin squeaked. “Max go get it from the trunk. He needs to see this.”

Steve pulled his keys out of his pocket and tossed her direction, praying it wouldn’t land in the water.

But Max caught them and dashed out of the boathouse. They all waited on baited breath. Because Eddie wasn’t going to let Steve go without knowing the meaning behind his soulmark.

Max came running back inside. “Steve! Catch!”

Eddie turned around to face her, letting the other boy go. Steve caught the bat before it even got close to either of their faces. Eddie’s eyes were wide for a different reason now.

He dropped the bottle and stepped back, everyone else breathing a sigh of relief. “Why the fuck do you have a nail bat, Harrington?”

Steve slumped against the wall and slid down it, holding the nail bat tightly in both hands, it was straight up. Like a knight holding a sword.

Dustin got between them and moved Eddie to sit down on a nearby crate, while Robin was at Steve’s side checking to see if the bottle had cut him.

It hadn’t. But he let her fuss over him, because they both needed the reassurance that he was, in fact, okay.

Eddie pulled off his leather jacket and ripped off his own soul patch. He had a couple of tattoos on his arm. One he had done himself, but the other? The other was a soulmark that throbbed bright red. It was Steve’s nail bat, no doubt.

“Bats,” Steve giggled manically. “Our soulmarks are bats.”

Eddie cocked his head and rolled his eyes. “Just answer the question, Harrington.”

Dustin grimaced. “You wouldn’t believe us if we told you.”

Robin and Max nodded emphatically.

Eddie shook his head. “I don’t know, not after what I saw. It was horrible.”

Suddenly Steve was on his feet and at Eddie’s side in a heartbeat. “I have a feeling we would be the only ones that would understand, Eds.”

Eddie let out a shuddering breath, but started talking. He told them about Chrissy and the drug deal. He talked about her nightmares and how lost she seemed when he was nice to her. He talked about how scared she had been in her final moments. And how he ran when she started to twist in a horrible, unnatural way. How she died screaming.

“I can’t get her screams out of my head, man,” Eddie whimpered. “Why her? Why me?”

“We don’t know,” Robin said. “But we’ve done this before.”

Eddie stared at her in shock.

Steve nodded. “Three years for Dustin and I, although he has about a week up on me. Two years for Max. And one year for Robin.”

“Three–three years?” Eddie stammered. “What the fuck?”

“Since Will Byers vanished,” Dustin said sadly.

Eddie closed his eyes. Both Wayne and he had volunteered to help look for the boy and Wayne had been among those that found the fake body. He nodded before opening his eyes.

“What am I going to do?” he asked.

Steve knelt in front of him and touched his cheek. “We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

*

Steve was having a panic attack. That was the only thing he could think of when he started to hyperventilate outside of his house after dropping everyone off at home. They needed to get Eddie some food and explain things properly to him, but all that consumes Steve is the refrain of: He’s my soulmate. He’s my soulmate. He’s my soulmate. Over and over.

Tears threatened to fall from his cheeks. A boy was his soulmate. He didn’t care, but his dad would. Dustin and Max seemed fine with it. Hell, Dustin was practically bouncing in his seat all the way home. Berating Steve for not meeting Eddie sooner. If only Steve had listened to him he wouldn’t have struck out with so many girls.

Steve dropped him off first just to stop the constant stream of his monologue and then Max. As he was pulling away from Forest Hills Robin touched his shoulder.

“Are you going to be okay?” she asked gently.

He didn’t know if he was ever going be. Because his forearm still burned, still glowed dark red. In fact it was getting darker and more painful the further he got from Eddie.

“I think we’re perfect mates,” Steve ground out through the thick pain lancing through his arm. “A true pair.”

Robin’s eyes went wide. “Holy shit. Like only a hundred of those are born every generation.”

He pulled up his sleeve to show her. She took his arm gingerly and ran her fingers over the dark soul mark.

“I don’t think you could have found a worst time to meet him,” she said softly.

Steve nodded.

Robin kissed his cheek and inside her house, leaving Steve to drive home alone with his thoughts.

So that brought him to where he was now. Having a mental breakdown in front of his empty house. He knew that he was going to have to compartmentalize. Which was something he was pretty damn good at. It just was shit timing. But before he could do that, he knew he had to work through the shock of his soulmate being a boy.

Usually he would talk to Robin about this, but he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. After all, Vickie was her soulmate, the girl just wasn’t interested in being with Robin. She would rather chase after some boy who had already go off to college and was likely cheating on her with who knows how many girls. So how could Steve gush about his soulmate when hers didn’t want her? He wasn’t an ass. Or at least not anymore.

Steve finally got out of the car and opened the door to his house, half expecting his parents to come storming out of one of the rooms demanding where he’d been. But the house was silent. As it always was these days. He toed off his shoes in front of the door, suddenly not caring if it blocked anyone from coming in. Maybe that was a good thing.

He didn’t want to be disturbed while he wallowed in his misery.

A boy. Never in his wildest dreams did he ever assume his soulmate wasn’t a girl. Not even once did even consider it wouldn’t be someone with soft curves and pouty lips. Steve scoffed. He supposed he got the pouty lips. Just no curves. Only curls. He closed his eyes and threw himself bodily onto the sofa to wallow.

Steve threw his arm over his head and sighed. Was he attracted to boys? He knew that being soulmates didn’t necessarily include sex or whatever, but he always assumed that his soulmate would fill every aspect of his life and not just being someone he could rely on.

And there lied the other crux of the problem. Could he rely on Eddie?

Eddie Munson: metalhead, two-time super senior, drug dealer, goofball. Nothing like the person Steve imagined growing up. Someone who was an equal, who would help him with their kids.

Kids! Shit. There went that, too. They would have to adopt if they even got that far. Steve could taste the bile that rose from his throat. But he forced it down and let out a deep breath. He just had to readjust his thinking is all. Instead of focusing on the negative.

He sat up and really thought about Eddie as his soulmate. He already knew that Eddie got along good with Steve’s little nuggets. Three of them were in his club, for fuck’s sake. And from what Dustin had said was really impressed with Erica. So that was four of his kids that liked Eddie. Or at least tolerated him in Erica’s case. That was something.

That was something else. He had taken in Lucas, Mike, and Dustin when they were lost little freshmen with no clue how to navigate high school. Of course things between Lucas and Eddie may have soured a bit over last night’s game. And while Steve wasn’t in any clubs, he had grown up watching his mother plan party after party.

Rule number one was at least three days notice of canceling unless something had literally come up that day. Which Steve knew wasn’t the case with the championship game. Lucas knew a week in advance what was coming and chickened out telling Eddie. So that situation made for bad blood all around.

But as Steve sat there he could tally up more good things about Eddie then bad. And as for the attraction, well...he had just described the other boy as having pouty lips and soft curls, so maybe he wasn’t as straight as he thought he was.

He thought back to the big brown eyes and quivering hands. And yeah, maybe Steve was more attracted than he thought.

All right crisis...well not averted. Because he was still in the middle of some shit. But managed he supposed. Now all he needed to was make sure his stupid soulmate made it out of this alive. And you know, clear him of a murder charge.

But that was a problem for future Steve, current Steve needed food and god damned nap.

****

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Epilogue

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @vecnuthy @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @littlewildflowerkitten @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @irregular-child @oxidantdreamboat @mogami13 @samsoble @xandriumbat

[lemonflavoreddishsoap]

CAN I REQUEST LA SQUADRA WITH AN S/O WHO HAS A SWEET TOOTH?? (like they would be late at night just eating something sweet and they would get caught because of the candy wrappers making noise)

I cannot handle much sweetness in my food but for some reason i love writing about characters who have sweet tooths???? idk why. very cute request idea :3

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

La Squadra with an S/O with a sweet tooth

Formaggio

He learns about this trait of yours when the two of you get a crap ton of sweet treats together, only for him to find 90% of it gone within a day. He's not pleased, the way he complains about it you'd think it was the cat crying if you weren't watching him.

He isn't actually mad, obviously. I mean, in all honesty he was probably overestimating how many sweets he can handle, but...but the betrayal!!

Great new information now, because you're getting a new treat for your stash practically every day! He'll even come home with some incredibly bizarre sounding treat for either you to keep or for you to watch him eat.

Illuso

Illuso learns when he finds you stuffing your face sometime around midnight. He plucks the sweet from your hands and holds it over your head (if you're shorter than him). "Having a snack right now? If you were planning to stay up for some sweets, you should've let me join you." He doesn't let you stay up for much longer though, just enough for your sugar buzz to end before dragging you to bed.

He's absolutely the kind of fellow to just steal some treats right out of your hand/bag. Make sure you aren't standing around any mirrors as you happily snack, unless you WANT to be jump-scared by an arm suddenly emerging from the wall.

He's picky with sweets, too, so not only is staying cautious keeping you safe from theft, but also from criticism. If you decide to start subtly eating more of his favourite sweets to avoid this, it definitely won't go unnoticed.

Prosciutto

He became aware of your sweet tooth before you ever told him, and before any kind of eating-candy-late-at-night incident. He probably realises by the first time he's brought to your place. Whether it be a dedicated snack-y area somewhere in your kitchen or a few too many colourful wrappers in a trash bin, he takes note of the detail.

Prosciutto stays up pretty late, so it should've been expected that he would run into you digging into some chocolate "secretly" like a raccoon chowing down on some garbage. He stares at you, just a bit surprised that you'd decide to eat something so sugary in the middle of the night.

He doesn't mind your affinity for sweets and sometimes likes to indulge you by buying you fancy little candies and chocolates he thinks you'd enjoy, but he is strict about when you can eat them (no messing up your appetite or sleep!) it makes him seem like a parent but he just wants his partner feeling alright.

Pesci

Shuffling through the kitchen with the lights off was an obvious challenge for you, but flicking on the light's would've been a surefire way to get caught at this late hour. Well, unfortunately that worry is thrown out the window as you end up crashing into something that...yelps?

So, yeah! You discover each other's sweet tooths and bad habits in that same moment. Your best survival strategy is to team up, becoming the Late Night Delicacy Duo - Pesci feels bad about his secret snacks but having you indulge in it with him makes it go from shameful to fun.

His favourite sweets are hard candies, but he'll have a try of anything the two of you manage to scavenge!

Melone

Dude. It's fucking Melone. You don't need to get caught doing jackshit, he tastes the sweet on your fucking lips and figures it out from there. He can tell your favourite chocolate brand just based on your body language or something.

Sounds weird but hey! At least you've got a partner who knows what you like incredibly well, and you often find your preferred treats either in his hands when the two of you are going out or laying on your bed when you return home. He's always right on the money.

He's far from a sweets person himself, save for a few exceptions (namely cake), so he has absolutely no qualms with you having any treats he ends up receiving. Probably likes feeding you a bit. Not in a kink way or anything but like, listen, I think it'd be nice to have his gloved hand gently place chocolates in my mouth while he watches with those beautiful eyes. No don't leave no listen please-

Ghiaccio

He's grumpy enough when he wakes up in the morning, why would you even risk waking him up in the middle of the night? No matter now, because he's ripped the sweet from your hand, tucked it into a cupboard, just nearly slammed the door shut, and is dragging you back to bed.

But as long as you aren't snacking late at night, he's fine with it. He can be a tiny bit strict about it though; doesn't want you overdoing how many sweets you eat, and he does not like trying other people's food so don't ask him.

Just as with most things about you, he loves the trait subtly. His love for this one lies in how he glances at you when the waiter asks if the two of you want dessert after your meal, or the way he taps your arm if the two of you pass a colourful candy store mid-stroll.

Risotto

He likes licorice doesn't he. He does, doesn't he. Look me in the eyes, don't you see what i see hes a LICORICE LIKER

"I really hope your body goes through sugar well. That crash will not be pretty," is a very stupid thing to get jumpscared by, but in your defence you were MINDING your OWN BUSINESS and it's TWO AM- DOES THIS MAN SLEEP!???

Pleaseee ask him to share sweet treats with you, this man doesn't let himself have as many treats as he probably wants to. Beyond just the intimacy of sharing a moment together, you get to see him smile at the flavors. and isn't that what life is just all about.

Honestly if you're really really really in love with candy, he may get or make one one of those candy/chocolate bouquets, y'know the ones?

[awkward-tension-art]

Darkness on Umbara Chp.6 (Rex x Reader)

Chapter 5. Chapter 7.

The Gorge

cw: Rex x Reader, Reader is a medic, incorrect military procedure, graphic descriptions of injuries, blood, swearing, death and battle, Spoilers for the Umbara Arc, Pong Krell is an asshole, reader insert, names of non-canon dead clones, reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), if i miss a tag LMK

Minors DN

Airbase. 

That’s the priority. That's why the 501st had retreated away from the capital. 

A fucking airbase.

You could see it in the distance from where you were. The tall tower was clearly marked by a bright pillar of light that reached towards the clouds.

As Fives, Krell and Rex inspected the area on a cliffside, you and Kix weaved around the men, treating any injuries you saw. Sadly, painkillers were getting to low levels, so you decided to use them for the truly brutal wounds. For those you had to deem were suffering beyond comprehension.

You regretted using them on yourself. 

But, everyone else…well, they were big boys. They just had to handle it. Judging by the uninterested look that Hardcase had while Kix stitched up his shoulder, you were confident that the men weren’t going to complain. 

Your gaze swept over the battalion. The dark, tentacle-like trees had fanned out from the jungle, allowing an easier view of the soldiers. You counted the silhouettes, their white and blue armor stark against the ash colored ground. 

By the end you were right. A majority of the battalion had been injured in some way. Wounds were expected. But this many…It was getting hard to keep up, and judging by the way Kix swayed slightly when he stood, he was feeling the same thing.

“Alright men, we’re splitting the battalion,” Rex called, getting everyone at attention, “Half of you will remain here. The other half, follow me down to the gorge.”

You sighed and watched them go. Your tired steps were about to go to your medical speeder, but Krell halted you, “Doctor, you will be going with them.” He stepped between you and your goal, which was to resupply.

“Respectfully, sir,” you looked up into his small yellow eyes, “I think it would be better if I remained here and-.”

“My orders are for you to go with the platoons down to the gorge.” the besalisk crossed two of his four arms, surprisingly, he wasn’t yelling at you. Instead, his tone was icy and yet uninterested, “I’ve seen how you are during battle, and your expertise is wasted as a backline medic. You will be with the men on the front.”

You blinked and nodded. Was that a compliment? 

“Understood, sir.” you saluted with your uninjured arm and followed the platoon. At this point, arguing with him about your training would only result in a bad outcome.

You found your position next to Kix, who looked very unhappy to see you, “please don’t tell me…” 

“He complimented me,” you gave a sarcastic smile, “Said my expertise was wasted by not being on the front.”

Before Kix could respond, Rex began to speak, getting all the attention onto him, “Alright listen up!” His voice held authority with every word, “We’ll assemble the squads into two divisions. We’ll move straight up this gorge to the airbase on the far side.”

The medic beside you snapped, “The casualties are going to be high!” 

Tup scoffed, “Is Krell trying to get us killed!?”

“You know, I wasn’t sure that Krell was crazy before.” Jesse snarled, helmet in his hand. He practically glared at Rex as he continued, “But now, I’m positive!”

“We had to retreat from the capital because the general pushed a flawed strategy!” It was Fives’ turn to argue, “Now this?”

Hardcase raised his heavy weapon, “I don’t know! Could be fun.”

“Well, I, for one, agree with the general's plan.” Dogma chimed in, seeming much more confident than anyone else. 

“What plan?” You turned to face him, “Blindly rushing into the unknown without a care for the costs isn’t a plan!” Your words might’ve struck Rex, truthfully, you couldn’t look at him to find out. 

You had all the faith in him. You just had no faith in Krell or his tactics. But arguing would seem like you were against your lover and not the temporary General.

“We are running out of time and this is the best option!”

Jesse spoke up again, royally pissed, “No recon? No air support? We don’t know what we’re up against!” He waved his helmet in the air in frustration, “They have weapons we’ve never seen before!” To punctuate his point, he tapped his helmet to his head a couple of times. 

The 501st captain stepped forward, attempting to reason with everyone, “A few of General Skywalker’s plans seemed reckless too, but they worked.”

His words did little to ease the rising tempers, “Yeah, but General Skywalker is usually leading his men up in the front not bringing up the rear like General Krell!” Fives stepped towards Rex, riling up everyone else, “A full frontal assault would leave us too exposed!”

The other men rose up in dissatisfied chatter. They were clearly unhappy with the plan.

“We have to look at other options!”

“It's going to be a meat grinder!”

Rex sighed, frustration clear, “Fives.” He commanded the ARC trooper to follow. The two stepped away, out of earshot. 

“What supplies do we have?” Kix turned to face you, “This…is going to be difficult.”

Wordlessly you took off your pack and knelt to go through the packs you carried. Luckily the both of you stocked up as well as you could from everything on the medical speeder. But it never hurts to check. 

Bandages and bacta were the most needed, and hopefully, you had enough to see this through.

You attempted to get your pack back on by lifting it with your bad arm, only to drop it and hiss in pain. 

“Damnit.” you swallowed, feeling the very bone pulse in agony. It’s only been a few hours since you were shot. Your arm was nowhere near healed. 

Kix put a hand on your uninjured shoulder to hold you steady, “Take it easy.”

“I’m fine,” You mumbled, adjusting your pack, “The men have survived worse than this. How would it look if I burst into tears every time I get hurt?” 

“Nearly getting your arm blasted off isn’t just ‘getting hurt’. If you need a break, the others will understand.” He argued softly.

You shook your head, “And what about you? You’ve been unsteady on your feet from exhaustion for hours and yet you still run around helping those who are wounded.”

“Only because you’ve been taking a majority of them.” Kix responded, though he didn’t argue with your point. 

“Are you two done?” Dogma snapped from his position, “We’re about to start moving.”

“Hey, Dogma, have you considered shutting the fuck up?” An ARF trooper, Jumper, leaned forward on his AT-RT to silence the ground soldier, “How about you don’t pick a fight with the two people keeping all of us alive.”

“Hey-!”

“Everyone, enough.” Jesse finally stepped in to get everyone quiet, “Now is not the time or the place.” A mere minute later instructions were given. 

You’d go with Rex and his half of the platoon. Kix would go with Fives and Hardcase and their half. 

Splitting up…wonderful idea. There’s no way that could ever go wrong. 

You hung back, keeping your position behind a majority of the men. Noct and Nax, however, were walking on either side of you. As if they were intending to guard you from threats. Your nod to them was in appreciation as both platoons marched forward slowly and carefully. 

Three of those flying beasts that attacked on the main road flew overhead. They didn’t make a dive or move towards anyone on the ground. Instead, you’d think they were fleeing something.

A rapidly approaching rumble cut off your thoughts. The ground was shaking, and it was only getting worse. Nax grabbed your wrist to keep you steady as the vibrations got stronger and louder. Even the AT-RT’s were unstable from the sheer power of the sway.

You raised your comm and began to speak, “Kix, what is going-.”

In the distance, you heard the commotion. Shouting. Booms. It sounded like something was…howling? 

Everything around you was shaking violently, and Kix finally responded, “We’re under attack!”

Without wait, Rex diverted off the original path to aid his brothers. You all ran as quickly as you could despite the dark, dense plant life that hindered your movements. Once you made it over the ridge, you paused, taking in the battle.

Chaos. Chaos and mayhem. At the center of it all, was a tank in the shape of a centipede, marked with blue lights. It roared before slamming down, killing all soldiers under its massive body. 

“Get those rocket launchers down there! Move it troopers!” Rex commanded, pistols in hand and immediately running to aid the soldiers.

The blaster guns that ran down the centipede tanks back were firing in all directions, making it difficult to maneuver or navigate. Still, you managed to get close enough while remaining behind the cover of a massive tree and its roots.

One of the green shots hit Jumper’s AT-RT, killing him in a burst of neon flames.

Another name to your list.

“Watch out!” The ARF trooper next to you called as another tank shot up from the ground. He was hit almost instantly, knocking down from his vehicle. immediately your hands were on him and dragging him behind cover. 

“I got you, Dia.” you reassured, pulling off his helmet.

Pupils uneven. Head injury. Concussion. Watch for seizures or signs of stroke. Traumatic brain injuries were difficult to deal with in such a chaotic environment, but you did what you could with the supplies you have. 

One of the tanks swung its massive head, slamming into one of the troopers that had a much needed rocket launcher. He hit the ground, but curled his body to protect the precious weapon. Once the Umbaran tank turned to continue its destruction, Kix leapt out from the black and red foliage. Thank whatever gods decided to keep him alive!

He grabbed the trooper just as Hardcase got the rocket launcher. You rushed out to join him, taking hold of one of the troopers shoulders, “Follow me!” You shouted, leading the medic to your position of cover hidden in the dense trees. When you returned, there were already several more injured that were taking refuge.

Behind you, there was another explosion. The now headless tank roared before it melted into a screech. Its massive silver and blue body twisted and spasmed as every section burst into flames and destruction. You spotted Fives and Hardcase sprinting to avoid getting hit by its thrashing legs.

Rex called out, tone commanding yet anxious, “Everyone regroup, now! Take cover!” 

The platoons scattered, fleeing into the dark and foggy forest. Luckily the thick trunks and roots of the red, glowing trees were condensed enough the tanks couldn’t push through. 

“Move it! Move it!”

“Let's go!”

“Go! Go! Go!”

You swallowed and looked up at Rex. He was breathing heavily, but still standing. However, you didn’t miss the blood on his wrist. 

You reached into a small pack on your thigh and took out clean bandages as you approached. He would always opt for bandages and not bacta. At every battle, if he got hurt, he’d reject the medicine, saying ‘save it for the next soldier you treat.’ So you’ve learned to just accept his selflessness and use standard first-aid supplies if the wounds weren’t so bad.

“We’re safe for the moment, but they’ll be coming around any second,” He continued to lead the men, not stopping even when you grabbed his wrist and began to bandage it up, “Bring up the launchers, spread detonators along that corridor. Trap them in the bottleneck.” The captain nodded in appreciation once you finished your work. He continued, “We’re going to blow those things sky high.”

Fives rushed past you to a soldier, Hana, who carried explosives in a large pack. He grabbed several of the bombs before running with the other to the narrow part of the gorge. Several others followed the ARC trooper. 

You remained with the injured, just like Kix. Your focus was on the trooper, Hek, in your arms working to stem the bleeding on his chest. However, no matter what you tried, he slipped away under your hands.

Hek. One more death to blame on Krell.

Your priority shifted to Silk, who had sat down and waited patiently with a bleeding, smoldering neck and shoulder wound. Either he was the most patient man in existence, or mentally gone. It didn’t matter though, because you began to patch him up, using whatever you could to save him.

After a few moments, the ground shook violently again, causing you to hold him close to your chest to protect. From the direction of where the men placed bombs, you heard the booms and crackles of their explosives detonating. The tanks they destroyed howled and wailed as it sounded like they crashed into one another, ripping each other apart.

Soldiers had run back to your position to take cover from the resulting explosions. Hardcase dove to your right, getting behind the massive root protecting everyone from the fire. Rex, who was thrown from the force of the bombs, landed on his front right next to you and Silk. Fives and Jesse stumbled, also hitting the dirt after getting shoved by the burst of heat and flames. 

It was a few seconds later when your ears were blessed with silence. Seemed everyone was waiting for…something. Another attack? Or just appreciating the brief moment of calm.

The captain got onto one knee, turned his head to you, and his shoulders slumped slightly with relief, “Good job.” he stood, addressing his men, “Be ready to move out in five.”

Five minutes to rest.

Hardly enough time for you and Kix to tend to all those that were sporting injuries, but you could at least handle the more serious cases. And in those five minutes, despite your best efforts….

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Jumper. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo.

You added a few more names to the list of the dead.