#ignorance is truly bliss. / answered asks.

[bloodthrrsty]

golden eyes look upon the carnage that painted the streets a vivid red. strewn entrails dangling from lantern poles as if they were decoration, what was once flesh now scattered upon cobblestone road like miniature rubies, white bones a stark contrast to the endless dark that they all lived in. it was beautiful. heavy boots thump upon the ground, crunching flesh &. bones beneath them ━━━ all without a care as mathieu drew closer towards the source. crimson locks swayed across back, held nicely together by a ribbon of gold, resuming their dance even when the celestial angel came to a stop before their precious hunting dog. with gloved hands pulled behind his back, head tilted upwards &. slightly to the side a secretive smile curved lips upwards. ❝ good boy. ❞ and that's all he says as the glow within sunlit eyes are a reminder that his horrific divinity would raze through anything that stood between his goal. ❝ you did well ━━━ so very well. how proud i am of you, cecil. ❞ / 🤭

       𝐂𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐋 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐄. a brutal hand that tore through flesh and bone, terrifying in it's efficiency. he would always be this; dogged man, soaked through with blood. to his marrow, to the very core of his being. a trick weapon in one hand is all he needs. and the cursed blood, nearly black, which grips his heart and keeps it pumping 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆. within it stirs something else too, but no less a part of who he is. though he is always quick to deny it's existence... to lie.

he is deaf to pleas, and threats alike as he carries out his work. weapon gliding effortlessly through bodies, blood spilling out in spatters that color the dull cobblestone. they didn't stand a chance no matter what form he took. it wouldn't matter; they can fight all they like. but he will bite back with twice the force, and viciousness they give him.

and it is worse yet, when he succumbs to his bloodlust. laughing with vim and vigor- casting aside his beloved blade. to shed one earthly form for another, shrieking aloud as serpentine jaws snap another in two. 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄; 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐖 ! else his vibrant, vermillion gaze catch sight of you, making you yet another target. smashed, and beaten, and rotted; a barely recognizable smear left to be washed up by coming rain.

even when the screaming stops, no one dares to take a peek.

divine master, the keeper of his leash, arrives in time to see cecil there. lengthy body curled over so he can draw a serpentine tongue across his boney hand. claws still dripping profusely, wet with blood. though, 'pon hearing such a familiar voice, his head turns. and he stands straighter, as best he can, to angle his equally bloodied maw nearer to him. ah... " for you... " low broken words, every syllable wet, pushed between rows of inhuman teeth. then, as a dog might, cecil lowers his head that mathieu need not look up to see him. lower, and lower, slippery against the street they stand on. it will be some time till he can change back, agonizing as it is. not that he's any reason to feel shame for it.

it is in fact, something valued. to take pride in, alongside his divine purpose.

fellas is it gay if-

[solarsbrace]

Even on a beach island vacation, Camilla would find a way to keep her title of “juice lady.” Where she found the supplies, for both non alcoholic and alcoholic drinks, or the cart she managed to hitch to Barbie to drag everything along with her was unimportant. It was juice time. 

“Here darling! Try and keep cool.”🍹

even despite their hosts having all sorts of forced activities for them, it seemed that had also allotted a grace period before the festivities. maybe it was that their so-called games weren't finished, or something to do with them needing to be rested for their trails. regardless, if ephraim was going to participate in this, he was also going to enjoy his alone time first.

it was on a casual stroll through the more open areas of the archipelago that he met with a woman. wiping the sweat from his brow, he acknowledged her greeting with a nod of his own. not that they had spoken at length, but he did recognize her from her work in the med tents during the battle of the eagle and lion. camilla was her name, as he recalled.

"my gratitude to you, i was beginning to feel the effects of the heat...." as he took a sip, the king pondered how she was even able to much such an extravagant drink. hell, if it was this refreshing, he wouldn't ask questions.

[jude-duarte-wannabe]

earl grey

Chai

Milkshake 

Juice

for azriel

beautiful angel

order up!

hi lovely thanks for the request, this is my first time writing for acotar so apologies if it's not that great, i have read the books and personally i am an azriel girl so this request just hit the spot as did all the other ones i've received <3 i did end up picking prompts from my bakery list to go with this just fyi and those prompts will be bolded.

pairing; azriel x soft fwb female reader

blurb; azriel needs his sweet girl but he's exhausted and you want to help him but you've never been on top ever.

faceclaim for azriel; fabien frankel

warnings; gentle sex, breeding kink, creampie, size kink, riding, fingering, belly bulge, slight mention of painful sex and biting [let me know if i missed anything!]

chai; biting or hickeys [i picked biting] juice; breeding kink earl grey; big cock milkshake; size kink victoria sponge; "you wanna hold my hand" custard tart; "you gonna let me cum inside" pumpkin pie; "are you nibbling on me" sugar pie; "stop wriggling" french toast; "i don't think it'll fit"

currently playing; beautiful by bazzi ft camila cabello "beautiful, beautiful night right now, beautiful, beautiful by my side right now, yeah, hey, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful angel"

"azzy" you mumbled opening the door to the shadowsinger on the other side leaning against the frame like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

his shadows were no where to be seen however, they were most likely back at the house of wind, knowing that when he was with you that azriel liked to be truly and completely alone.

glancing at the clock on the wall next to your door you grimaced "it's three in the morning, are you okay" you asked him, you cared for azriel you really did but was waking you up at three in the morning really necessary.

you'd been snuggled up in the soft pink blankets of your bed, warm and cozy when the thump of a knock sounded on your apartments front door, you'd tried to ignore it at first but when it became more consistent, you knew there was no avoiding it.

instead of answering your question azriel merely pushed into your apartment wrapping his arms around you to hold you close, exhaustion taking over his body as he kicked the door shut with his foot.

"long day.. had to see you" he mumbled against the skin of your bare shoulder, you knew that rhysand had been working him hard, the last time you'd seen azzy was almost a month ago.

you held him close, arms wrapping around his neck and fingers playing with the pieces of hair at the base of his neck to which he let out a sound that was almost like a purr of sorts which made you giggle.

"i love that sound" azriel murmured against your neck as he began to back you up, moving you both to back to your bedroom, feet tripping over eachothers in the shuffle.

once inside the safety of your room, he all but collapased against your bed bringing you down with him and holding you close, his free hand running up the back of your thigh and squeezing at the flesh .

"your so soft" he informed you as he finally kissed you for the first time that night, you smiled against his lips finally happy now that he was back with you, you'd always wanted more but azriel had issues with commitment and so you never pushed it, for now you were content with what you had going.

you lay in arms feeling nothing but bliss as his kisses slowly trailed away from your lips and down your neck, he was being extra soft tonight the poor baby.

you were so distracted by the feeling of his kisses that you almost forgot that azriel had a thing for biting until you felt his graze against your neck but that was it... there was no biting or pain,

azriel continued to kiss his way down neck and across your shoulder, nibbling at the skin as he went "are you nibbling on me" you asked surprised, something was going on in his beautiful mind... but what

"no...." he murmured which made you giggle again as his scared hand trailed up and under your nightgown cupping the firm and smooth expanse of your ass, squeezing at it.

"need you so bad angel" azriel begged as he nuzzled into your neck breathing in the smell of your perfume which he loved so much; coconut and vanilla.

he bought that exact perfume for you last winter solstice after he realized he'd had feelings for you wasn't fully comfortable asking for you to be his due to his past relationship issues.

"azzy you could barely stand your so exhausted what makes you think you've got the energy to get down and dirty with me" you explained softly as your hand moved to cup his cheek, pecking his lips between every few words with a soft intimacy that he loved experiencing with you.

azriel rolled onto his back gently pulling you with him and moving you around until you sat above him straddling his lap as his hands rubbed up and down your thighs with soft pressure "so ride me angel"

his words surprised you to say the least, you'd never been on top and it's not something you'd ever thought you do, you were azriel's little pillow princess and the fact that, that was about to change made you nervous.

azriel had to admit seeing you like this on top of him was his new favorite thing, he chuckled at your nervous wriggling "stop wriggling" his voice was low and gruff "your not helping my situation right now angel"

"sorry" you murmured, your hands shaking as you unbuckled his belt, pulling his leathers down his legs "i don't think it'll fit" you stuttered, looking at his lengthy cock laying against his stomach "not like this"

azriel chuckled as his fingers trailed up your sides, he knew he was big and god was he smug about it, he didn't fit all the way in you normally and now.. well he knew it would be a struggle for you to take him this way.

"don't worry angel, i don't expect you to take all of it" azriel slowly pushed your nightgown up, playing with the hem of your underwear.

"let me help you" your breathing began to pick up as azriel slid your panties to the side, fingers sliding through your folds with ease as of how easy it was for this man to turn you on.

your hips started to rock, grinding against his hand with fervor as he began to trace your clit with soft touches that you breathless, your own fingers gently ran along the membrane of his wings, it was azriel's turn to be breathless now for a second.

you'd never touched his wings before, well you had just not in such an intimate way and god did azriel never want it to stop but sadly his hope was crushed as you pulled your fingers back.

"why'd you'd stop" he panted, trying to catch his breath as he came down from the intense feeling "you stopped" your words were mumbled as you complained in a whiny tone that never failed to drive him mad and so his fingers slipped inside you.

the moan you let out at finally having some form of relief even if it was only finger penetration left you squirming in his lap, azriel's fingers moving faster and faster with every movement.

the only sounds that could be heard bouncing off your bedroom walls currently were your soft moans and the wet sloppy sounds coming from between your legs as azriel's fingers drove into you again and again.

your hips began to rock again, moving in time with his fingers.

azriel could feel your warm wet walls tighten around his fingers as the coil slowly built in your stomach, muscles tensing and tightening from the pleasure coursing through your body.

"azzy" you mumbled, body going numb as your climax came, body shaking as you collapsed against azriel's chest, one arm wrapping around your waist to keep you close.

you were so exhausted just from that first orgasm that you missed azriel slip the fingers that just been deep in your cunt past his lips, the wet smack that came from his lips almost made you cum again "you taste so fucking angel" he hummed.

you shifted against his chest "can you take this off" you murmured, tugging on his shirt that had yet to come off, he merely chuckled and pulled it off his toned tan body as you sat up, running your hands up the new expanse of skin.

"you think your ready to try angel" he asked to which you simply nodded, body once again shaking with nerves at the thought, you sat up on your knees, slowly stroking azriel's cock in your soft hand.

once he was fully hard you pressed his red oozing tip to your entrance but didn't move any further "you wanna hold my hand" he asked sensing your nervousness.

you didn't reply and simply tangled with your fingers with his own, holding tight as you slowly sank down on his cock, it was easy at first you'd take this part of him before but as soon it started to sting you hissed and azriel gripped your hips tight to keep you still.

"that's enough" he soothed, letting you adjust, after a few seconds you started to rock your hips slowly, his cock sliding against your inner walls.

"oh god" you mumbled hands gripping his tight as your hips picked up speed, rocking against azriel's with fervor but eventually you couldn't hold on any longer and collapsed against his chest.

but unfortunately for you right as you collapsed against him, azriel himself couldn't hold on any longer and trusted his hips up to meet yours, fully seething himself inside your tight hot cunt.

you were shocked, body tensing as a sheering pain tore through your body, azriel however was freaking out as you froze "angel, please tell me your alright.. i'm sorry... i didn't mean to" he stuttered.

you stayed silent but nodded numbly against his chest, as the minutes passed he felt your body begin to relax, your walls loosening up and muscles un-tensing.

"i told you, you could do it one day angel" azriel sounded smug as he realized how quickly you were adjusting to the full size of him, he gently rocked his hips upwards testing the waters causing you to hiss.

"shut up" you smacked at his arm, sitting up in his lap once more, hands pressed against his chest for support as you wriggled in his lap adjusting to his size a little more.

"holy shit" azriel mumbled, hand coming rest against your stomach, pressing against the bulge there "do you feel that, look at how deep i am angel" he chuckled darkly.

you shivered at the sound of his voice, when it got that deep it did things to you, he could feel your walls clench around him, his hands gripped at your hips as you began to rock your hips again becoming more enthusiastic by the second.

so enthusiastic in fact that were practically jumping in his lap, ecstatic that your could finally take all of him so deep inside your cunt, he was so deep he was practically hitting your womb.

"should i start calling you bunny instead of angel huh" azriel joked hands gripping your hips so tight that he was bound to leave bruises at this point.

you kept rocking your hips against azriel's moving faster and faster by the minute until finally your orgasm hit you like a truck, eyes rolling back into your skull and body shaking,

when you calmed down from your erotic high, azriel was still rutting his hips into yours "you gonna let me cum inside" he moaned deeply "let me claim you, mark you as my own" your body shuddered at his words, warmth flooding you.

as soon as you hummed, he stilled and groaned holding your hips tightly against his own as he released rope after rope of cum deep into your cunt.

he looked beautiful right now, laying in your bed tangled in your pink floral blankets and frilly pillows; your pillow prince you thought as your fingers threaded through his soft locks, massaging against his scalp.

he hummed at the feeling, content for the first time in a long while as he felt you place kisses to his forehead, azriel couldn't help but pull you closer against his chest, your ear pressed to the skin right above his heart, listening to the rhythmic beat happily.

"that's for you, you know" he whispered against your ear making you gaze up and into his beautiful hazel from your comfortable position

"my heart beats for you angel, it always has" you felt like your own heart was going to explode at his words and how sweet he was being with you in this moment.

"i love you azzy" you whispered against his damp chest, smiling from the happiness coursing through your veins currently.

you were his now and he was damn well going to keep it that way and no one was going to get in the way of that, he would make sure of that.

"i love you too angel... my beautiful angel"

[loxare]

On their wedding day, he put his hand to her cheek and called her the most beautiful woman in the world.

He could have been correct, from an objective standpoint. Truly, she was one of the beauties in town. Her curls always in perfect order, her smile plump and joyous, her figure comely, even hidden modestly beneath clothing. From an objective standpoint, he was wrong, as nothing about beauty is objective, but none in the town would have disagreed with his assessment.

They spent several years together, in loving bliss. They built their house together, they planted their garden together, they grew together.

And then came the day that a hole in reality opened beneath him. Without thought, she jumped in after, a bare half second after he vanished.

When she opened her eyes, she was somewhere else. The stars were different, and wrong. There was the wrong number of moons, and the sun was the wrong colour. But the worst, most egregious wrong was that he was not there next to her. This, she could not abide.

She had nothing to her name besides her labour, but that she had in abundance. She travelled, from town to town, trading hours of work for food and board. She taught herself to draw, and she drew her love. Over and over, she drew him. In the dirt, on walls, on her own clothes. Asking, always asking, if any had seen him. Eventually she acquired paper and ink, and drew her husband again. Her inquiries became easier, more frequent, although the answers never changed. For none had seen her love.

She learned many things as she travelled. She learned how to fix a carriage wheel. How to tend to livestock and how to weed a garden far larger than the one she had known. She learned to shape a bowl from clay and to chop timber and to carve wood. She learned to fight off brigands who would take from her her sparse money, her life, or worse.

She learned other things, about this place she was in. It was a place where many came, and few left. A nexus one called it. A refuse heap, another said. But the method of arrival was always the same. One moment in the familiar, the next falling into the strange. But the people were the same, for all that they were often of alien appearance. Some looked down upon her dirt covered hems and worn boots. Some ignored her. Most were willing to at least listen to her question, to look at her picture, so carefully drawn. To keep an eye out, and pass on a message should they find him.

Time passed, and passed, and passed. The world she came from did not have things such as magical crystals or soul mates or wizards, or if it did they had none of the power that those here did. Regardless, one town she stayed in recommended she find the local witch, for they specialized in red strings of fate.

And so she did. The witch gave her a bowl of stew and a comfortable chair, and then listened when she spoke, and looked carefully at the drawing. It was a different one. She had drawn many, over the years, as the old ones wore out, and as her skill increased. And the witch said that they did not know if he was indeed her soul mate, but if he was, then the red string of fate that they revealed would lead her right to him. She need only follow it.

It was not an easy ask. The witch wanted a blanket woven by her own hands in payment. And so she stayed in the town, longer than she had stayed anywhere. She traded her labour and her art for thick wool, and weaving lessons. It was near winter before she had a result she was pleased with, carefully folded in her arms to be presented to the witch. The blanket was unfolded immediately upon delivery, shaken out to its fullest extent. The blanket was scrutinized, for quality of the weave or for something else that she could not fathom. Finally, the witch nodded their head. They turned back to their cottage, moving to close the door. She protested, concerned about her end of the bargain, but needn’t have worried. For around her finger was tied a red string which hadn’t been there before. The end led off, through the woods.

And so she followed it. She followed it through fallen leaves. She followed it across rivers. She followed it through snowbanks and through melt waters and through hot summer sun. Finally, she followed it into a clearing on a mountain. And fell to her knees in despair. For in this clearing was nothing but moss, and the end of the string, fading into nothing.

She did not have long to weep however, as a hole in reality opened above her, and down he fell. Without thought, she moved to catch him.

He was just as he had been on the day she had left him. And as he opened his eyes, she suddenly felt ashamed. For he was here, perfect and whole and young. But it had been years and years for her. Her hair was frizzy and knotted. Her lips were thin, her hands were rough, and her figure both hard and flabby at once.

But he opened his eyes, and he called her name, and she nodded. And he smiled at her, and called her the most beautiful woman in the world.

On a truly objective standpoint, he was incorrect. Both because beauty was not within the realm of objectivity, but also because there were many women who could be called more beautiful, subjectively.

But she also knew that he was speaking nothing but the honest truth. For he loved her. He loved her, he loved her, he loved her. He loved her hair, frizzy as it was. He loved combing it free of knots, and helping her braid it in the mornings, and loved tucking flowers into it, to surprise her when she looked in the mirror. He loved her smile, and loved seeing it, and loved being the cause of it. He loved it when she spoke to him, when she told him of the things she had done, and what she had learned. He loved her art, even as he blushed darkly at being her only subject. She taught him what she knew, and delighted when he found particular pleasure in pottery. They travelled, to find a home that suited both of them. The first time she defended him from brigands had been a terrifying and yet exhilarating experience for them both.

And they built a house. With a room full of paper and clay. And a garden, and a loom. And always, forever, she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

[nathaslosthershit]

A Big Decision (Teen Dad!Oscar AU)

(Part 8 of Teen Dad!OP au [Can be read on its own])

Summary: It is time to pop the big question

The twins had finally gone down for a nap after spending so long fighting it. The kids, at age three, have started to fight them more and more, leading their parents to start discussing if it's time for naps to stop. Honey, being a stay at home mom, had needed the nap time as much as her kids had in the past, giving her time to catch up on chores or just rest for a little, so she was really trying to get as much time as she could with it. But maybe it truly was over.

She was surprised to see Oscar pacing in their living room once she went back downstairs.

“Well, aren't you home early?” She says as Oscar immediately wraps his arms around her, burying his head in her neck and kissing it.

“Missed you all, did what they needed from me extra fast so I could get home earlier. Thought we could maybe go out tonight?”

“Oscar, it's a friday night. Do you know how impossible getting a babysitter would be? The kids also take a while to warm up to babysitters, I don’t think it's a good idea.”

“Good thing I thought ahead then. Lando had a free night and has been begging to see them after the last ‘betrayal’ when they wore Sargeant hats. Even better, he said he would do it for free if it meant working towards being the favorite.”

“Oscar, you can’t get your coworkers to babysit your twin toddlers for free by dangling favoritism in their faces.”

“It was his idea! I am just capitalizing off of it. I got us a nice reservation too, we just need to let him now in the next…” Oscar checks his wrist where his watch usually rests but finds it missing, “uh now. So I need an answer quickly, are we going to stay home and eat the same leftovers we have had for the past two days, or are we going to make Lando Norris the happiest man alive by letting him watch our kids for free while we have an amazingly romantic dinner?” Oscar quickly asks as he takes his ex-fiancee, now girlfriend, in his arms.

“Fine, let's go out, we could use the night off. Let Lando know I appreciate him watching them for us.”

“Perfect, why don’t you go out, do something nice for yourself, I'll take over with the kids. We still have time before dinner tonight.” Oscar suggested in a strange tone as he kissed all surface area of her face.

“What is up with you today? I don’t mind it but you are so much more touchy.” She laughed.

“Don’t worry bout a thing.” Was all he replied as he walked away. “Tonight will be the best yet, I promise.”

That’s when it struck her, why he was being so weird. Surely, he was going to propose.

After the huge fight in Suzuka, she had called the engagement off, causing them to ignore each other’s existence unless it came to the kids, for seven weeks. Since they had gotten back together, life had been blissful. Sure, it was most likely the ‘honeymoon’ phase of their relationship, but even so, they had been so ready to marry each other before things started going downhill. Maybe days after they got back together isn’t the right time to get engaged, but they had been to hell and back together since they got pregnant at 18 years old, they were it for each other, always would be. 

Oscar taking off of racing had also been a blessing. It had been hard for him, certainly. But he had needed to learn how to put his family first again, a priority that got harder to keep up with since joining Formula 1. 

As she sat in the nail salon chair, getting what were hopefully her engagement nails done, she thought back to how far they’d come. 

Arriving home with her nails done, and after getting the most amazing massage, Honey was giddy as she greeted her, hopefully, soon to be fiancé. After an hour and a half of filling her head with wedding plans and thinking about their future when she would finally get to be Mrs. Piastri after 7 years, she was more excited then she was the first time he proposed. 

This excitement continued from the moment she stepped into the shower, till the moment she sat in her seat at the restaurant. Oscar had hired a driver for the night, saying it was a night all for them, no need to be careful of how many drinks they were going to have, he had also told her he had plans to take them to the beach after where they could finish the night with a picnic by the water and stay as late as they liked. 

There was one thing that was off about him though, while she had expected nerves, she had also expected excitement from him and soon noticed the more giggly she was, the more upset he seemed to be. Maybe he realized she had caught on?

She finally asked what was up after he spilt his drink.

“Seriously Osc, what is wrong with you? You claim this is such a nice night for just the two of us but you are a mess right now!”

“It’s nothing, I’m sorry I don’t know why I’m like th-”

“Bullshit. I thought I made it clear how awful of a liar you are Oscar Jack Piastri, just tell me. Please?”

Silence filled the air as he stared at her, words failing.

“I will get up if you don’t-”

“I had a meeting with higher ups at McLaren earlier today and was told if I don’t come back then I am out of the contract and I agreed to come back for the Spanish Grand Prix!” Oscar blurted out.

Again, a heavy silence landed on the couple, both of them daring the other one to speak first.

Then, without a single word, Honey got up from the table and walked to the car leaving Oscar at the table, tears starting to fall.

Part 2 out now!

[katiebblynne]

~Denial~

SDV Sebastian ANGST/FLUFF

a/n: was gonna write sebastian smut but this scenario for the farmer x seb confession angst took over my hands srry :') happy ending tho!

pairing: Sebastian x Fem!Reader wc: 3911

Confessing to Sebastian doesn’t go well, just as you expected. But expectations can always be changed.

Days spent in Sebastian’s room were always your favorite ones. Sometimes you’d watch movies. Sometimes you’d play games in the company of Sam and Abigail. The time here never lets you down. But, there are certain nights that you look forward to the most – the nights you and him spend alone, talking about everything and nothing, for hours.

Tonight was one of those nights. You found yourself in a familiar spot on Sebastian’s couch, him occupying the rug on the floor next to you. You two have been laughing for what feels like hours, trading stories of what you’ve heard around town and showing each other rib tickling videos on your phones. When you say something that gets that less-than-often heard belly laugh from him, your feelings fill up every ounce of your body and seep out of your pores. You often hint your infatuations to Sebastian, but they go dismissed or ignored. The reality of things – what you’ve concluded from his disregard of your obvious advances – is hard to swallow, but you force the pill of it down anyway: he doesn’t feel the same.

You lay on your side, head propped on your elbow as you two decide the time passer tonight consists of lighthearted questions and answers. You toss around inquiries about his job, he asks you about your farm. You ask him about music, he queries you about your cooking. This goes well into the night, and you feel absolutely enthralled by the seemingly endless conversation. The way he moves his hands when he talks, the clink of his rings together as his fingers help portray his words… melodic bliss.

“Okay… would you rather live in Pam’s trailer or Elliott’s shack?” You ask to carry the conversation.

“Elliott’s shack probably… this basement’s just as dank anyways.” he responds. You both chuckle.

He takes his unspoken turn in the banter. “If you had to date someone in town, who would it be?” His voice is casual and unexpecting. You look at him with a confused expression. He glances back at you, the same tone taking over him. “What?” He asks with a small laugh.

“Well, you, of course.” You answer plainly. After all this time of advancing on him, it rots your brain that he would ask you a question with such an obvious answer. He looks at you and tilts his head. “Wait, really? Not like… Alex or Elliott or something?” You stare – surely he is pulling your leg. He returns your gaze with an unmoving, genuinely curious look. “Why me?”

This evokes an actual laugh out of your throat. “I mean, it’s no secret I have a thing for you.” Your voice carries nonchalantly, assuming he would have known by now. Sebastian’s heart starts pounding in his chest. He sits up and stares. “Wait, huh? You like me?” Your eyes widen a bit. “...yeah? You didn’t know? I’ve been pretty obvious this whole time, like when we’re hanging out and stuff.”

Sebastian is sincerely in a state of shock. He truly had no idea, or at least he didn’t think he did. He only ever saw you two as friends. His voice comes out hesitantly and it makes your stomach clench. You knew where the conversation was going to go, and most likely how it was going to end. “I don’t get it… when did you like, hint at it?” he asks. You reply simply. “I mean, I’m constantly complimenting you and trying to be close to you when we hang with Sam and Abby… stuff like that.” You see a slight concern on Sebastian’s face, not being able to read it past that. You quickly divert the tension building from your words, bracing yourself for the inevitable. You say, a feigned attempt to ease him, when you’re really just helping shield your own heart, “It’s no biggie. I know you only see us as friends. It’s all good, man.”

“Why are you trying to convince me it’s no big deal when you just… confessed your feelings for me? Don’t you think we should like… talk it out a bit?” He asks, his face filled with an awkward discomfort. The sight makes your heart drop, but you mock a relaxed state of being. “What is there to talk about…?” Your voice betrays you slightly, your tone uneven and guarded. Sebastian fidgets with his rings as he probes your confession from the rug in front of you. He keeps a respectful distance between him and the couch – almost a physical representation of the space he’s giving you to speak about your feelings. God, he’s so good to you. Sometimes you wish he was crueler. He asks you softly, cautiously, “How long have you felt this way?”

You take a deep breath to ponder the question. “Probably like… six months?”

“SIX MONTHS?” he immediately returns, a shock on his eyebrows. “How the fuck have you liked me for sixth months and I just now find out?” You give him a small shrug, “I guess I’m wondering the same thing, Seb.”

Sebastian was at a loss for words. He felt an urge to ask more about it, unfortunately not considering how it might be making you feel right now. His brain wasn’t functioning that way at the moment – he just needed to understand this news… really make sense of your feelings so he could handle them. “Why me?”

You let out a pained chuckle, having to reminisce on the foundations of your unrequited affections. You glance around the room as you think. “I dunno. At first, it felt the same to be around you as it did with everyone else. But then one day– I don't even know if you remember this–” You look at him for a small moment, a soft smile settling on your face before your eyes find moral support on the posters on the wall instead, “we were all meeting at the saloon, and you had already ordered my favorite drink before I got there. I had texted you earlier that I was having a rough day on the farm… For some reason,” you move your hands in an unknowing gesture “you kinda stuck in my brain after that and never left.”

Sebastian gazes over you, still steadying his thoughts as he wraps his head around this. “All because I bought you a drink…?” You shake your head slightly and laugh. “Well… no. That was probably just the moment I realized I liked you. It was small, yeah, but it was like… a catalyst. I started noticing all these intricacies about you after that, ya know?” You roll on your back and stare up at Sebastian’s ceiling, your thoughts taking over and causing a tender smile to caress your cheeks. He watches you, his stomach in knots as you continue.

“Like… how you tap out piano melodies on your thighs when you’re anxious… how you brush your thumb against your lips when you’re working. Or how you always roll your neck after you yawn…” Your voice trails off of Sebastian’s walls and settles into his skin. He looks at you as you speak, soft as a feather, your vulnerability crawling up his spine like a chill. He watches you, speechless. You continue with a sentence that makes his chest physically hurt. “You occupy my mind like you pay rent to be there… and in a room full of people, there’s only you.” A gasp strains on Sebastian’s lips, his heart aching. Your words spill out more, as if they are overflowing out of your chest. You laugh, stifling an urge to cry.

“It’s pretty annoying actually, thinking about you all the time like this. I hardly get anything done anymore. It’s really unproductive to be so hopelessly in love.” The words come out before you can stop them, but you don’t care. Might as well at this point, right?

Sebastian sinks into himself, an overwhelming anguish claiming his face. “...In love?” He asks, his voice approaching your confession as someone would a wounded animal. You look at him, your lips pulling into a closed line and your eyes softening to reaffirm what you said.

Sebastian’s very essence felt heavy. He didn’t return the feelings, but for some reason his heart was gnawing at his skin to reach you in a way he’d never felt before. He couldn’t stand himself in the moment – you being so open and saying all these beautiful things and his brain not being able to reciprocate. You sigh and look back up at the ceiling, his silence confirming your fears. “Sorry for rambling. Maybe I’ll be able to move on after this, yeah?” You chuckle dryly, sadness wrapping its hands around your neck. Sebastian so desperately wanted to comfort you. He wanted to pull you in his arms and make you feel better, but how could he? When he was the driving factor behind your broken heart.

As much as you fight it, a tear finds its way down your temple. Sebastian’s entire body is replaced with guilt as he sees it. You wipe it and force a gentle laugh. “I think I… should probably go now. I hope we’re still cool after this.” You lift your body off his couch, not making eye contact. You gather your things and make your way to his door. “Wait… y/n, I’m… so sorry… I-” You cut him off as you pull his door open. Your eyes meet his, glazed with tears that are just waiting to take over. “Hey, really. No big deal. I’ll see you later, Seb.” And with that, you leave. Sebastian is left on the floor, frozen in ache and a whirlwind of emotions.

~*~

Sam’s phone lights up, interrupting the competitive glint in his hands as Abigail demolishes him in the game they’re playing. He answers “Sebastiannnnn, what’s up?”

Sebastian sits on his couch, his phone to his ear as he stares down to where he was just sitting before. “Dude.”

Sebastian’s tone sends a spike down Sam’s spine. He sits up a little straighter. Abigail notices, pausing the game. Sam puts him on speaker. “Abby’s here too – What’s goin on?” Abigail listens in, resting the controller on her lap.

Sebastian’s voice takes on a shape they’ve never heard before – it’s shaken, soft. “Are you guys free? I need to fuckin talk man.” Sam and Abigail send each other a wide eyed look, concern – and a curious itch – settling in their stomachs and across their faces. “We’re at my house. Door’s open.” Sam responds. Sebastian doesn’t hesitate to make his way there, his steps fueled by anxiety. As soon as he arrives, he slumps on Sam’s bed and just stares at the two sitting on the floor facing him. The look in his eyes simultaneously speaks volumes and says absolutely nothing at all. Abigail prompts him to speak with an enthusiastic ‘spit it out’ gesture.

Sebastian takes an uneven breath. “Y/n… just confessed to me, guys.”

Sam and Abigail immediately do a little cheer, high-fiving each other. Sebastian is taken aback, and his words come out small. “What?” Sam and Abigail take turns speaking, Abigail taking the lead. “We’re excited for you guys!” “Yeah, we’ve known you like each other for months now –  this is great, man!” Sebastian’s anxious face creates room for puzzlement. “Wait… what? I don’t like y/n like that… Guys, I had to reject her tonight.”

A silence befalls Sam’s room. They both share the same expression of disbelief as they take in Sebastian’s words. Abigail bursts out laughing and Sam leans forward with his palm on his face. “Dude, you have got to be fuckin’ with us right now.” Abigail settles her laugh just a bit to add “Yeah, like, you’re joking right?” Sebastian looks bewildered at their reactions. He shakes his head slowly – of course he’s not kidding. Why would they think he has feelings for you?

Abigail and Sam both roll their eyes in different tones of exasperation – one true and one playful. Abigail looks at Sebastian, her voice deadpan. “Tell me you’re joking.”

“Why would I be joking? We’re just friends, that’s how I’ve always felt. I don’t understand what gave y'all the impression I felt differently–” Sam cuts Sebastian off. “We’ve seen the way you stare at y/n when you think no one’s lookin’, my dude. You’re constantly talking about her to us, always textin’ her when she can’t hang out or making sure she’s having a good time when she can. Hell, she’s the only one out of us that can get a belly laugh outta you and she’s only known you a third of the time we have!” Abigail nods in agreement, both of their eyes piercing Sebastian’s. Sebastian retorts, a sprinkle of annoyance on his face. “So? That doesn’t mean I’m in love with ‘er.” Sebastian feels a cold wall encasing him, pushing away the strange mix of feelings coursing through his veins. Abigail leans forward, her elbows on her thighs. Her and Sam are steadfast in what they believe – no, what they know – unconvinced that he doesn’t feel the same. “Seb, you are genuinely crazy if you are in this much denial. I think you are in love with her and don’t even notice.” Sebastian stares at the two, frustrated at their adamant claim. His fingers burn with confliction. Sam ends the conversation with a simple sentence that rings in Sebastian’s ears in resolute. “You definitely need to go and reflect for a bit, man – before you miss your chance.”

~*~

Sebastian lies in his bed, staring at the ceiling that still clings onto your words from earlier. He tosses and turns, unable to get you out of his head. The image of you lying on his couch, your tear that has seeped into the cushion at this point… it replays in his head like a film. Guilt, confusion and… something else he can’t quite place makes their home in his chest, his stomach, his throat. He huffs, trying to expel the feelings for just a moment as he closes his eyes.

Suddenly, that film of you is replaced by vivid, dream-like memories of your smile, your giggle. The way you hum to yourself while you lay in his bed with him. The goofy faces you make when you’re sleepy. The way your fingers feel when they accidentally brush against his own. His eyes slowly open as the thoughts flood his mind. When his gaze fully settles against the ceiling once more, he feels it – uh oh. Sebastian clenches his bed sheets for stability when the realization hits him like a train, the impact crumbling down the cold wall around his heart in an instant. His heart starts to race, as he mutters to himself raggedly. “Do I… like y/n?” No, it’s… more than that. “Fuck! Do I love her?”

He doesn’t believe it. He is absolutely, desperately, in love with you.

Then, Sebastian thinks about tonight. He sits up straight in his bed, as if struck by lightning. He feels his heart drop to his stomach as he thinks to himself. ‘Idiot! I rejected her? I broke her heart! How stupid can I be?!’ He groans in agony as he flops back into his mattress. “How can I fix this… how could I be so dumb?”

You lie in your bed, chest sore from sobs. Your body feels almost numb from the exertion of emotions and rejection tonight. You saw it coming. You knew how he felt. But something in you clung to hope anyway. Hearts really just suck like that sometimes. You sigh and roll over, turning off your light and closing your eyes. You’re out in an instant, drained from the despondency.

~*~

Weeks go by. At first, you tried your absolute best to feign contentment around him, hoping that if you fake it long enough it’ll actually happen. But eventually, when you discovered the heartbreak had sublet your mind for the unforeseeable future, you let yourself distance. And boy, did Sebastian notice. Your eyes lost their spark. Your skin lost its glow. You stopped hanging out in the group as often, coming to the saloon as much. Alone time with him ceased altogether. When you’re around – which is rare now – Sebastian sneaks glances at you as much as he can – his heart just as shredded up as yours.

Abigail had convinced you to come out tonight. It was a Friday, and everyone was gathered at the saloon. Its liveliness was a stark contrast to you. You and the others gathered in the billiard room, sipping on drinks and shooting pool. There was an undeniable tension in the air, one that Sam and Abigail tried to cut through as best they could with jokes and small talk.

Sebastian had been looking for the right opportunity to talk with you forever now, but at this point it felt like he’s missed his chance. Guilt and love battled for more space in his brain everyday. He knew he was far gone when Sam started beating him at pool. Sam noticed it too. Throughout the afternoon and into the evening, Sam shot Sebastian strident looks, gesturing discreetly over to you – silently urging Sebastian to just talk to you about it already. His pleas are met with a simple, sad head shake from Sebastian. Sam rolls his eyes and continues getting through the awkward atmosphere.

After finishing your one drink of the night, which took a couple hours due to your lacking appetite for… well anything lately, you set your glass down and stand up. “I think I’m gonna head home for the night, I’ve got a lot of farm work in the morning.” Abigail and Sam didn’t dare try to stop you, their recent negotiations for you to stay out always being met with hesitancy or denials. They nod and hug you goodnight. You and Sebastian just wave, your eyes not meeting his. God, what a pathetic feeling that was. You leave the saloon, and Sebastian is met with angry stares from the other two. Abigail crosses her arms, and Sam points at the saloon exit. “Go. Talk. Now.”

“Guys… I can’t… I don’t know what to say–”

“NOW.” They both say in unison, their word firm and dominant. Sebastian sighs, reluctantly setting down his poolstick and making his way toward the exit to follow you. He anxiously catches up with you as you walk through the town square. “Hey, y/n, wait up!” He says as casually as he can muster, even though his heart is screaming. Your body tenses at the sound of his voice. You stop and turn to look at him, a measly smile forced on your face. “What’s up, Sebastian?” He comes up and puts his hands in his hoodie pocket, his last line of defense against his overwhelming emotions. “I uh… wanted to go on a walk before I head home tonight. Been stuck in the basement working a lot lately. Figured I could walk you back and take the long way from the farm?” You nod slowly in understanding, every ounce of your body buzzing with misery. Despite this, your words come out cordial and light. “Oh, yeah… no problem.”

The air that surrounds you two as you walk together is almost dense enough to make you sick to your stomach. Not a single word is exchanged the entire way to your house. You pray for a sudden heart attack, for a swift death would be better than this level of discomfort. Sebastian watches you as the trek continues, his pace slightly behind yours. With each step you two take, his feelings grab hold of him more. His legs burn with the ache. He gazes as the setting sun enraptures your hair, making it almost glow with vibrancy. His stomach is in knots. He watches your top flow in the evening wind, dancing on your hip. His arms are on fire. He takes in how you dainty fingers flex ever so often as you stride. His chest feels like it's going to explode. He sees your eyelashes flutter as your gaze hangs low onto the path. Pained ardor strangles his neck, cutting the air supply to his brain.

You reach your house. Sebastian looks at you as you head to the stairs up to your porch. He can feel it – the words fighting his tongue to get out. His essence rapidly surrenders to it. “Well, see ya later Sebastian.”

You place your hand on the knob of your front door – and that's it. That’s the moment the words blurt out of Sebastian's lips, catching you before you go in.

“I love you!”

The words hang in the air, surrounding you. They possess your joints, stopping you from opening your door. They turn you around to look at a broken, lovesick Sebastian at the bottom of your porch stairs. His hand is stretched out shakily to you, his foot on the first step of the stairs. He breathes rapidly, as if his bones themselves are trembling under his flesh. Your face is pained, shocked, addled. “W-what?”

Sebastian had meant to be more graceful in this moment, but his heart acted clumsily in yearning for you. He takes another step up, his hand seeking your warmth of which he missed so desperately. “I… I love you.” You gawk at him, your face so full of emotion it takes the opposite effect and becomes almost unreadable. Sebastian’s next words tumble out of his mouth as he approaches you… oh so softly, need floating at his fingertips.

“Your hair… when it glints in the sunlight. Your laugh, how… how it infects me. And how you smell after you use my shower… my shampoo. It’s my favorite smell in the world.”

Your eyes widen and your heart tightens. Tears fall down your cheeks, your hand drops from the doorknob and hangs limp at your side. Sebastian lets out a strained whimper, tormented by the sight of your tears once more. “Oh… y/n, don’t cry… please don’t cry. I never meant to hurt you like this. I’ve been such an idiot all this time, denying my feelings and pushing you away…” His foot rests on the final step up to you, his movements hesitant to go further. “I should’ve let myself feel this sooner… oh god… please–”

His words are cut short, silenced by your lips crashing on his. You pour all of your emotions into him, your kiss deep and pining. His being stutters, but almost involuntarily responds with equal passion. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you in and kissing you like it’s his last moment on earth. Love and regret surround the both of you, bonding you together. The rest of the world is quiet, giving you both center stage.

You eventually break the kiss, hardly pulling away. Your tears paint Sebastian’s cheeks, his eyes locked on yours with an upward furrow on his brows. His lips remain slightly parted, stuck between wanting to say something and needing to claim yours once more. You speak, your voice cracking in overwhelm. “I am so in love with you, Sebastian. It will always be you.” You two share a smile, gasping in relief.

You kiss once again, catching up with all the lost time in this single, consummate moment.

[lilmoonbunny]

Crush; Bo Sinclair

Bo has a crush, but so does Lester.

Warnings: Jealous!Bo, swearing.

Bo Sinclair was an asshole, anyone who knew him knew this fact, however, there was a side of him – albeit rare – that could be kind and loving, although, there was only one person who he deemed worthy of this side.

Y/N was everything that Bo was not: sweet, kind, caring, and loving. She was any man’s dream. Perhaps this was why Lester craved her, much to Bo’s dismay.

Whilst Bo’s initial craving for her was lust, it soon transformed into genuine feelings, something which terrified him. He didn’t believe that he could love, nor did he think he was worthy of being loved.

“Bo,” Y/N whined, capturing the mechanics attention as he lay beneath a truck. She watched as the man rolled out to look at her, oil clinging to his face.

“What is it?” He asked.

“I’m bored,”

With a roll of his eyes, Bo pushed himself back underneath the truck, turning his attention back to the job at hand. He enjoyed her company he truly did, but there were times when he couldn’t stand to be around her. It was nothing personal, he just didn’t know how to control himself.

The revealing clothes that she was wearing in the summer heat left little to the imagination and Bo almost wished he could take a picture of her, capturing her in all her glory, not that he would ever admit he saw her that way to anybody besides himself; he often struggled to admit it to himself.

He could feel her eyes on him, although he didn’t know why she was so focused on him, but it made it hard to focus. What was supposed to be an easy job was suddenly made harder with her focus solely on him; he almost felt insecure. Almost.

Bo knew he was both attractive and charming, but when around her he couldn’t help but wonder if she saw him the same way. In fact, that was something he pondered often. She was Vincent’s friend, that was how he came to know her and how she ended up residing in Ambrose after a ‘complication’ with her previous partner.

He remembered the nights she spent crying whilst Vincent comforted her, both with hugs and pats on the head which Bo found odd as Vincent was not one for physical touch. Bo would never admit he was jealous, and besides, he wasn’t aware of his feelings then.

The feelings came rushing to him one night as he found her in the kitchen. She was making a coffee after giving up on sleep a little after her breakup. Tears stained her cheeks, be it from the bad memories or the breakup itself, and Bo couldn’t remember the last time he had cried or seen somebody cried; maybe it was Lester when they were younger, he wasn’t sure.

“Sorry,” she had apologised to him. “I’ll get out of your way.”

Bo hesitated for a moment, something that he wasn’t used to. Sure, he had talked to her a few times, but rarely alone. He wasn’t big on conversation with new people, let alone friends of Vincent.

“It’s fine, don’t worry ‘bout it.” Came his response, shocking them both.

“Are you sure?”

“Course, s’pose it’s your house too for now.”

Little did he know, she would become a permanent resident in the Sinclair household.

“Thank you, Bo,” she smiled sweetly at him, and despite the tears staining her cheeks, he found her beautiful. He knew in that moment that he wanted her in more than a sexual way.

“Why are you staring?” Bo asked from beneath the truck.

Y/N paused for a moment, mouth opening and closing as she struggled to form an answer. “Admiring the view, I guess.” She said with a shrug and Bo could feel his cheeks warming but he simply blamed it on the heat; ignorance is bliss, after all.

Never in his life had he thought he would feel this way and it was terrifying to say the least.

“Oh, hi, Lester!” Y/N grinned, unable to see how Bo’s eyebrows furrowed and a frown formed on his lips. “How are you?”

“I’m all right, Y/N/N. How’re ya?” Bo could hear the smile as Lester spoke and his frown grew.

Y/N’s attention turned from Bo to Lester, red dusting her cheeks from the summer air, and maybe because she was called out for staring.

“I’m good! Me and Bo are just working. Well, he’s working and I’m just sitting here.” A giggle fell from her lips and both the men’s hearts warmed.

As Lester and Y/N’s conversation continued, Bo found himself zoning out, anger forming in his chest. He hated them interacting, having known about Lester’s feelings for his ‘crush’ for a while now. Even if Lester wouldn’t admit it, Bo knew; he always knew.

Rolling out from beneath the truck, Bo spoke. “If you two want to carry on talking, can you do it somewhere else!?” He snapped, immediately regretting it upon seeing the way Y/N’s face dropped. He did debate apologising, but his ego was too big to do so.

She paused for a moment before lifting herself to her feet, silently nodding before walking away, Lester following like a lost puppy.

Bo’s anger continued to fester for the rest of the day, even as he entered the house, slamming the door behind him.

“Hi, Bo,” Y/N greeted him, but it went ignored as Bo removed his boots.

It was safe to assume that Bo was in one of his usual bad moods and Vincent had signed to her that it was best to ignore him when he got like this when she first came to stay. It was the unspoken rule of the house, so she turned her attention back to the television in front of her.

Bo, of course, was paying attention and seeing that Lester had left had his bad mood calming slightly, his tense shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. A quiet sigh of relief was next, although it went unheard by the woman that held his affections.

 “I see your little boyfriend left,” Bo broke the silence.

“Boyfriend?”

“Lester.”

“He’s not my boyfriend…?” It was safe to say that Y/N was confused.

“He seems quite smitten on you.”

“I don’t see him that way.”

Bo relaxed some more and this time it didn’t go unnoticed by Y/N, nor did his dilated pupils. She wasn’t stupid, she knew what that meant.

As she stood up, a plan formed in her mind, but if she was wrong about this, she risked ruining everything, including their close friendship.

What is life without a little risk? She reasoned with herself.

Bo watched her as she moved closer, eventually standing in front of him and toying with the collar of his thin jacket, fixing it despite knowing that he would remove it soon.

“There is somebody I see that way, though,” she said, looking up at him with a coy smile that had Bo’s heart racing.

“Is that so?” He muttered, watching her closely.

“Yeah,” her smile grew, hands reaching out to grasp his face, taking it slowly and gently so that he could pull away at any time.

But he didn’t pull away, in fact, he couldn’t resist any longer and his face dived down, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss.

She could taste a mix of cigarettes and beer on his lips, but it wasn’t something she minded; it was very Bo and she loved him for who he was, flaws and all.

Whilst her hands gently cupped his cheeks, Bo’s reached out to lightly grasp both her waist and the back of her neck as he continued to kiss her. It was something he didn’t want to pull away from. The sensation of her lips on his and his hands on her had his heart beating a million miles per minute and the feeling itself gave him a high better than any drug ever could.

When they separated, Y/N’s gaze turned downwards, a dark blush coating her cheeks.

“I didn’t know if that was a good idea,” she admitted. “I’m hoping it was.”

Bo paused for a moment, feeling as though he was unable to speak. “I think it was,” his voice was quiet yet filled with emotion which was unusual for the man. “As long as you liked it, then I think it was, at least.”

“I did like it,”

Bo smiled, and whilst it was a small smile, it was noticeable to her.

“So did I.”

[undiscovered-horizon]

hello! if you accept requests for one peaceLive action (I hope)

could you write reader x sanji and I have a strange idea

what if with reader flirting.... another cook? and Sanji feels not just jealousy, but double jealousy... it's very strange, I know, but still I think it's quite interesting.

thank you in advance🙏💕

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi | Have a request?

The smell of spices, ripe fruit and freshly made food hits your nostrils. It's markets like this that truly show the genius loci of the place. Mobs of people roll through the narrow spaces between stalls that are bending under the weight of displayed products.

You glance at Sanji, who's walking next to you. Judging by the bliss on his face, you'd think you're in heaven and not some unmarked island in the middle of nowhere.

Then a specific aroma reaches you - something you haven't smelled in a long time but could never forget. It's tangy, creamy and herbal...

"Can you smell it?" you turn to Sanji, suddenly stopping in your tracks. Excitement bubbles inside your chest and cherished memories of beautiful days with wonderful people flash before your eyes.

"You'll have to be a little more precise, love," he answers with undeniable fondness in his voice. His thumb is softly rubbing the skin of your hand.

"Lemon tarragon sauce," you say as if it's the most obvious thing. Looking around, you catch a glimpse of a pot filled with yellow-ish, creamy dip. "Right there!"

Tugging at his arm, you pull him in the direction of the stall and the source of the delightful smell. The market stand is managed by a man around your age. He has a head full of black, dense curls that perfectly suit his tanned skin. There's a clean dish towel tied around his neck as if it's an ascot. Skilled, muscular hands move between pans, pots and counters as he's restlessly grilling meat, fish and prawns to put them in cones made from newspaper and layer the tarragon sauce on top.

The street cook looks up from the dishes when he notices customers approaching. As his dark eyes set on you, the man suddenly perks up and a playful smile curves his raspberry-coloured lips.

"Mademoiselle," he says with a certain intensity to his voice. It almost sounds like he's asking you something.

Sanji immediately cringes at the man's tone. This suave, decadent drawl is something he's also used the very first time he saw you. And considering the fact that you're tightly holding his hand, it had worked perfectly. Now just to make sure that this terragon-smelling, ascot-wearing sleazy guy isn't as successful.

"How can I thank you for brightening up my day?"

"I'd love a serving of prawns with tarragon sauce," you say thrilled. It seems that you're either missing the flirtatious aura surrounding the man or you're willfully ignoring them.

Sanji feels his chest tighten and a bitter taste fills his mouth. Why would you be so excited about someone else's cooking? Worse - what if you will prefer that guy's food over his?

The street cook gets to grilling freshly caught prawns. His fingers skilfully dance in the air as he seasons the seafood and mixes it in the pan. Garlic and lemon pepper fragrances overthrow your senses.

The ascot-wearing man gives you a curious look. "What are you looking for at the end of the world, flower?" he asks.

But before you can answer, Sanji cuts in. "We're on a shore leave," he answers coldly. "Won't stay for long."

"That's a shame," the local chef continues unaffected by Sanji's impertinence. His eyes are fixed on you, eating you up like you're the local delicacy and not the seafood in the pan. "At night the island looks even better. Not that it could compare," he says with a wink.

In a swift move, the man moves the prawns from the pan onto a page from a newspaper. He quickly rolls the paper into a cone. Clearly, he's been doing this for a very long time.

"You're from around here, right?" you carry on the conversation.

"Born and raised, ma cherie," he answers with pride. That shouldn't come as a surprise - ever since the Marines built a base on the surrounding archipelago, the islands have been filled with immigrants who couldn't care less about local traditions and customs.

Sanji feels his irritation only growing, hearing how the pet name rolls off the man's tongue naturally, as though he's calling you by your given name. It feels wrong down to the marrow of his bones.

"So, as a local, can you recommend something to pass the time?"

The bitterness Sanji involuntarily tastes on his tongue is mixed with sweetness that only you can bring him. Of course you don't notice the flirtatious tone - you just want the tarragon sauce and something fun to do before tomorrow comes and the Straw Hats are off for another voyage.

Then, another nice thought stirs inside his head. Maybe you're too deep in love with Sanji to even notice another man's interest? The idea makes him giddy like he's a schoolgirl with a crush. He almost misses the next part of the conversation, too busy with his adorable, a little cringy, daydream:

"While the weather is still good and the nights are warm, skinny dipping is quite popular," the local cook answers while pouring tarragon sauce over the grilled prawns. "Much better with good company," he purrs out. "Prawns with tarragon sauce, on the house." The man hands you your order but with only one cocktail stick as though the blond chef next to you doesn't count as a customer.

Excited, you take the paper cone from the street vendor. But before you can try the food, Sanji takes the stick and takes the first bite.

A frown enters his face as he chews the prawn. Then he sighs in disappointment.

"Do you seriously call this cooking?" he asks the ascot-wearing man. His voice is laced with anger and disbelief. "A fishman would make a better sauce. It's missing white wine and anise. And there's too much garlic."

You hiss his name out but Sanji appears unaffected. Forcing a polite smile, you turn to the street vendor, who's glancing between you and your boyfriend with a look of superiority. "Thank you for the food and sorry for Grumpy over here."

Only when you're a few paces away from the vendor and definitely out of earshot, do you confront Sanji about his mordant humor.

"No need to get snappy."

He forces his lips into a thin line. "His food is shit and he keeps making piss poor attempts at flirting when you're clearly," he lifts your intertwined fingers, "not a mademoiselle." Although Sanji quotes the word in mockery, it sounds delicious coming from him. If you weren't already sharing his bed, right now you'd be seriously considering it. Planning it even.

"So that's what this is about?" you ask as laughter forces its way out of your chest. Considering how whipped you are for Sanji, it seems ridiculous that you could think romantically about other men. "You're jealous about a smooth-talking cook. Sounds like someone I know."

"Does it?" he picks up on your banter. That familiar, playful smile returns to his face. His eyes momentarily light up, flashing you a glint of various emotions: desire, amusement, adoration. "How many smooth-talking cooks have you seduced?"

You shrug your shoulders and shake your head dramatically. "Don't know. Never bothered to count. I'm just looking for someone to make me lemon tarragon sauce any time I want."

Sanji's hand again rubs the skin of your palm. His other hand reaches for your face, fingers brushing against your jaw. "For you, little dove, I'd make tarragon sauce every day."

"With white wine and anise?" you ask, leaning in slightly. His scent of cigarette smoke and frying oil fills your lungs. Suddenly, the market around you is nonexistent and there's only Sanji.

"The best lemon tarragon sauce you've ever had," he murmurs against your face. His nose brushes against your cheeks.

"I already have the best."

His lips taste like lemons, butter and herbs when he kisses you. Honestly, this is the best version of the sauce you've ever had.

[bloodthrrsty]

hunt? hunt!

[bi-writes]

in silence | the mandalorian

it is in the silence of us that i know where we are.

type: one-shot word count: 10k (holy moly im sorry) pairing: the (dark?)mandalorian x afab!fem!reader warnings: mature language and content, mature (but soft) written sexual content (read at your own discretion), 🔞⚠️ summary: you are unable to spend another day without the mandalorian knowing how you truly feel. complete masterlist

It was quiet, for the first time in a long time. Quiet in the sense that there was no noise around you. There was no hum of a ship, no loud sounds of alarms or radio transmissions from far acquaintances or the press and click of buttons and levers and lights. No, at this moment, it was quiet. The only sound was the slight whirr of wind outside and the gentle sigh leaving you. It was peace, and it was quiet; so why didn’t you like it?

You looked down into your lap, smoothing your hands over your legs. It was too quiet for your taste, perhaps? No, that wasn’t it. Quiet was good; but it was this quiet that wasn’t good.

You had gotten very used to having a presence at your side. For a long while now, a towering, heavy wall was your shadow. They did not speak much; in fact, for the months you had spent sitting beside them, you thought perhaps you could count the amount of words they said to you on both hands. While that was a stretch, it didn’t ignore the fact that the words spoken between you were usually from you and you only.

The helmet was his way of communicating. A slight tilt to the side, a heavy nod, a firm stare. You had become accustomed to this way of speaking, and you even were able to read his silence. Sometimes if you asked a question, he said nothing at all. You recently realized that you knew if his answer was yes or no just by the feel of the air around him. He seemed to realize that, too, and he seemed content at the fact that he could speak to you without speaking at all. It was a quiet, comfortable companionship; a quiet that you adored. A quiet that, at this very moment, you missed very much.

A shared quiet. A quiet that I spend with him, and only him, staring into the stars and wondering where he’ll take me next.

Will we be here a few more days? A quiet linger, a gentle sigh. You understood, preparing yourself to settle down for a little longer. Did you find what you were looking for? Nothing said, but he flicked several switches on the console in front of him with ease, very sure of his movements, and you smiled as you sat beside him. He had indeed found what he had been searching for. Is it okay if I borrow this? No response, but his absence of a protest meant you could do as you pleased.

That quiet was bliss.

You stood up from the small bed you were occupying. You found refuge at a local inn, and he had given you your own room. You had given him wide, wet eyes at this realization. You were rarely apart from him, and when you were, you were left in the protection of his ship, one that had yet to fail you. When you had climbed the mud clay stairs to the lodgings, he made it obvious that your room was right beside his. It was a silent declaration of if you need me, I am beside you. He had even slipped a small device into your hand, one curved in a way that could fit snugly in your ear. Communication, even if you only had to walk a few feet to his door. You looked at the device now, sitting on the bedside table, and your heart ached a bit. He thought of every fear you might have, and he accommodated each one of them.

He would not be far away from you; his room was beside yours. You would not have to sleep without saying goodnight to him; he had left a way into his ear in your hand.

You slipped the blankets back from the bed, getting inside of it. It was a comfortable bed, but you still were not at ease. You wanted to see him. In the dark, sometimes you saw flashes of lights as the buttons and panels of his ship reflected off his armor. It always put you at ease. Now, you stared into complete darkness, with nothing but an ugly quietness that left you breathing shallowly. You reached for the device on the table, fitting it into your ear.

A small beep sounded in your ear, a sound to indicate the connection had been made. You closed your eyes, biting your lip hard.

“Are you still here?” You asked suddenly, very softly. If he was asleep, you hoped your soft voice would not startle him. It was silent for a few long moments, and you sat up as the panic already started to flood your insides.

“Yes.”

You sighed a deep breath of relief, laying back down. “Are you crazy?” You breathed. “Why didn’t you answer me sooner? Geez…”

You closed your eyes, shaking your head as you brought the blankets back up. You wished he had just gotten one room with two beds, you wished you had said something; but you supposed even Mandalorians needed their privacy. You supposed he might have wanted to take off his armor and breathe in fresh air, and guilt crept in you as you thought about how your intrusion of his space probably kept him from being at ease, completely at ease.

“Are you alright?”

His voice brought you out of your thoughts, and you swallowed hard.

“No,” you whispered. You wanted to be honest. You weren’t capable of lying to him. He would know if you were lying, anyways. “I hate it here.”

There was a slight pause. “Are…is the room not to your liking?” He asked. He sounded confused and unsure of himself. He thought he had found a place that seemed comfortable enough for you. He had left a few days prior to find somewhere he deemed appropriate.

“The room is fine,” you said softly. It wasn’t the room. You could sleep on the cold dirt floor just fine, without complaining. “I just…” You closed your eyes tight, squeezing your eyes shut. “I…I’m not used to being without you. I’m…I’m sorry.”

You winced at how pathetic that sounded. Not used to being without him? You had slept many nights without him. You weren’t sure how to voice what you were feeling inside.

“No, I’ve…” You laughed nervously. “I’ve been without you a lot, it’s just…” You took a deep breath, but you hated how shaky it was breathed out. “This place is new, and I’m…I-I—”

“It is safe here,” he interrupted you. You brought the blankets up more, over your face.

“Can…” You turned over onto your side, clutching the blankets to your chest. “Can you get us a room together next time?” You asked quietly. You hoped he would understand the heaviness in your tone. It was your unspoken plea to tell him that you needed him.

There was a long pass of silence, but it was one you were used to. He hummed lowly, but not in a bad way. He was acknowledging your worry, you anxiety, the discomfort you felt without him.

“I miss you,” you said suddenly, your voice clear and soft. “That’s all.”

He did not reply. You smiled to yourself at the comfortable silence. You had no way of knowing how heavy his heart felt, the ache inside of him. Being away from you, even though you were only separated by a thin wall, had him on edge. He enjoyed where your sleeping quarters were on his ship; he could see you always, and this line of sight comforted him to no end. With you apart, there was a voice in him that almost convinced him to take to the wall and break it down just to relax your worries.

“Places are not safe, Mandalorian,” you continued. “You…you are.”

Your eyelids drooped, your conscious slipping a bit as you relaxed into the bed. Knowing he was listening to you made you feel the warm, familiar togetherness that you normally felt with him.

“You make me feel safe,” you finished groggily. It was the last thing you said before drifting off. He said nothing on the other end, but he knew you were asleep when he heard the evenness of your breath. He did not take the device out of his ear. He refused to, in fact, and he had been wearing it all night to make sure he would be able to hear you if you needed him. He closed his own eyes so he could let your words melt into him. He wanted to remember these words forever.

He was never going to get separate rooms ever again. He would appease any request of yours. He did not think he was capable of refusing any wish of yours; not when you asked him in that honeyed voice of yours.

When it was morning, you awoke to the bright sunlight that came in through the window. It was right in your eyes, and you turned over to move away from it. You looked at one of the screens in the room, touching it to reveal the time. It was early in the morning, earlier than the time he had told you to be awake, but you felt rested enough. You didn’t want to be away from him any longer.

You got out of bed and rummaged through your bag for something to wear. You picked out an unfitted white dress, just long enough to skim the tops of your thighs. The sleeves were fitted until your elbows, and then they belled out until the end of your wrist. You grabbed a dark pair of pants to put on underneath and reached for the leather thigh holster you wore over it, and then you bent down to tie up your boots. You had many dresses, but your wardrobe quickly adapted to the lifestyle you now led. The countless times you needed a quick getaway, to bolt into a fast sprint, to face a new adversary, were endless, and simply wearing a dress quickly became unfit for life with a Mandalorian. He had given you the holster you now wore and suggested these pair of boots; you had cooed at him when he bought them for you, and you remembered being restless when he secured the holster on your thigh for the first time.

You always pretended you didn’t know how to secure the holster. You enjoyed the way he was careful to put it on you. You had seen him do this for you every day; if he knew you were lying every time you told him you needed his help to secure the leather, he never said so. Perhaps he wanted to do it for you; maybe he even liked it.

The dress was not fitted to your frame, so you reached into your bag for the leather corset there. You held the corset and the holster in hand before leaving the room, making the short way to his door. You raised your hand, knocking gently on the metal of the door.

“Are you awake?” You asked, shifting from boot to boot as you waited for him to answer you. The door suddenly slid open, making you jump a bit backwards. Before you could fall back enough, a leather glove shot out and held your waist to keep you still. You smiled sheepishly, laughing a bit as he brought you closer. “You’re awake,” you nodded to yourself. Your eyes trailed up gleaming beskar to his helmet, where you looked into the dark visor and smiled wider. You held up the leather items in your hand, tilting your head to the side. His hand had yet to move from your waist. “I was hoping…you could help me.”

It was your usual morning routine. You padded into his room, and his door shut behind you. You noticed, for the first time, that he had yet to put all of his armor on. A pauldron and his belt of shiny rifle rounds and small detonators lay on the bed, and you turned to face him once you did your once-over of his room. He just stared at you, and you moved the items to the side before taking a seat on his bed. He took a chair from the side of the room and placed it in front of you, taking a seat as he took a hold of the thigh holster. You scooted closer to him, lifting your leg for him. He took it into his hands, laying it over his lap as he wrapped the straps around your thigh.

You leaned back on the palms of your hands as he did this. You watched him carefully, your eyes gentle as he worked of the leather straps through its belt buckle, securing it. The Mandalorian was in a well-acquainted place. This procedure was as it always was, and his movements were methodical. He was easily able to find the notch of the belt that he usually put the prong through. The leather was worn there more than the other notches, and it was so familiar the way he secured the strap and pulled on it to make sure it would not come undone. He continued with the next strap.

The silence was warm again. The setting was different, but you were still spending your morning with the Mandalorian, getting dressed with him.

“Did you sleep well?” You asked. He did not respond, still focused on pulling on another secured strap. You reached over gently, putting your fingers on the chin of his helmet and using enough pressure to make him look at you. Perhaps he wasn’t looking at you, but the visor made it seem so. He gave a curt nod, and you hummed with a smile. “I’m glad.”

He finished securing the holster, smoothing a gloved hand down the length of your leg before letting it fall back from his lap. You wished he would’ve kept you there, but he reached over and picked up the corset from your lap, standing to help you put it on. You didn’t completely register the fact that the Mandalorian was touching you; his hands had slid down your leg, he had held you close to him as he had secured the leather to you. He was touching you, more than necessary, and if you had been thinking correctly, you would have realized the significance of it. You weren’t; you were distracted by watching his broad frame sit so close to you, care for you, help you.

You stood up, your eyes now level with the bottom of his helmet. You looked up, keeping this moment still. You stared into the visor for a long while, and then you finally turned your back to him, lifting your arms a bit so he could fit the leather around your middle. You helped move the corset into place. It was comfortable, just a structured piece of leather solely to act as a fashionable overlay. You had, however, sewn a fibrous piece of flexible armor on the inside of it to protect you. Many times, it had stopped an angry blade from sinking into your side.

You let out a soft breath as the Mandalorian put a finger between the first set of laces and tugged firmly, tightening it. You put your hands on the front of the leather to keep it in place as he started to tighten more laces at your back.

Neither of you ever spoke about this routine. It was intimate. In the early hours of morning, with few words spoken, you would get ready for the day together. Fastening armor, tying dresses, fixing holsters, slipping weapons into place; it was a scheduled dance that you both were very used to, and no matter what events had transpired in the hours before, in the sleep or anger of the night, you always got up in the morning and had something for him to fix onto your person. Sometimes, it was just the holster. Other times it was your dress, or you would pretend to struggle with securing your blaster in your belt. In truth, you needed an excuse for the Mandalorian to touch you. He was pure and professional and respectful, always. You had found a loophole in his never-faltering demeanor. It was gearing up, getting dressed, tripping over your feet in front of him. In those times, his touch was never hesitant, nor did it ever shake. His touch was faith and security, supportive and strong.

His touch is fire, and I am ice, and even though it burns, I want more.

You remembered a night long ago; you had gotten hurt because you let your guard down. An ugly bruise had been blooming on your jaw, and he had scolded you like a child, angry that he had to turn his back away from his quarry and get to you. He had trusted you to keep yourself safe, and now he was coming to your aid in the middle of securing an important bounty, a valuable one. You remembered sitting on your bed that night, with tears in your eyes. You had not been hurt by his words and your wounds did not ache; you were embarrassed and feeling miserable that you had let him down. But in the morning, when the suns came out again, he had reached over and secured your holster just as he always did. He had gone slower, soothing your leg with soft touches and squeezes, and when he finished, you felt those gloved knuckles skimming the bruise on your jaw so softly. It had been his silent apology, and the tension simply evaporated when you leaned forward, your cheek against his cuirass as you hugged him.

It was a touch that kept you awake at night. It was a touch that made your skin hot and your toes curl and your brain liquify until all your thoughts were only him and the leather hands he had on you. Even now, with his dexterous hands fixing your outfit, you knew your legs were weakening. The Mandalorian was pure death and smoke in one terrifying hunter, but you had never, ever been afraid. He only made you feel pure desire and unfaltering reassurance.

“This is my favorite part of the day,” you said into the quiet. The Mandalorian continued without pausing, and your breath hitched a bit as he pulled particularly rough on the next set of laces. “It’s…quiet, and…” You looked out the window at the sun rising higher, telling you it was getting later into the morning. “—and it’s just us.”

You let your hands fall to your sides when he had tied most of your corset. You bent down and picked up his pauldron off the bed. The beskar was shiny and incredibly heavy in your hands. It looked freshly polished, and you smiled at the thought of the Mandalorian seated on this bed, a careful hand rubbing a cloth between the crevices of his armor. He was simple, and he did not need much to keep himself together. His armor and his weapons; the Mandalorian needed little more to thrive.

He tied off the last of the laces at your back, his hands smoothing around to touch your waist. It was his way of telling you he had finished. You turned in his grasp, meeting his visor again. You tilted your head to the side a bit, training your eyes on the dark material there. You thought maybe if you stared long enough, squinted hard enough, you might be able to see his eyes, but there was nothing but your sweet face staring back in a distorted reflection. You knew you had his eyes though, since he was unmoving and quiet.

You reached up carefully, breaking eye contact as you lifted the pauldron to his shoulder. You fit it where you thought it might go, moving it around gently until it seemed to drop into place. You heard a satisfied clicking sound that told you that his armor was in its place, and then you smoothed your hand over the front of his chest plate. You stared up at him again for just a moment before reaching behind yourself and picking up his heavy belt of ammunition. His hands left yours to help you, putting the belt around his waist as you brought the strap over his helmet to sit across his front. As he fastened it around his waist, you fixed it to sit properly around his neck. You realized that the strap and his cape were tangled together now, and you laughed a bit sheepishly as you had to lean on him to fix it properly. There were many things the Mandalorian was, but unkempt armor and imperfect dressing was not one of them. You wondered now if perhaps you had gotten him dressed in the wrong order, but he had yet to correct you.

Some of the slots for his rifle rounds were empty, so you simply reached into his open pack on the bedside table and grabbed a handful of them. It was a blissful calm as you began to refill the vacant slots carefully.

“I like it when it’s just us,” you murmured. You fit another round into its place, laughing a bit. “I know it doesn’t make sense. We don’t really…talk,” you shrugged a bit. “But you…you know so much about me already. And…I…” You kept your hands busy, too nervous to meet where you thought his eyes might be. “I-I would like to think that I know a lot about you.”

You might not have known his name. You might not have known his favorite song or where he came from or what the soft words were that he whispered when he was asleep meant, but you hoped that your observations were enough that you knew him in ways that others did not. In danger, you would curl knowingly around his defensive side without being told. He could tilt his helmet just right at you, and you would know if he wanted you to stay or to go. If he used his hands a certain way, if he reached for an extra bite of rations, if he stepped fast or slow or sideways, these were all ways you had learned to observe him and gauge his mood and memorize his likes and dislikes. You had an unspoken, unwritten bond, one that no amount of distance or separation or time apart could break.

“You do,” The Mandalorian admitted. His voice was low and careful. “You know…you know more about me than anyone else.”

You finished refilling his belt with ammunition, and you looked up at him through your lashes, biting your lip gently.

“Is that right, Mandalorian?” You asked, keeping your hands on his chest. The metal was cold under your fingertips; your skin was too hot. He simply moved his helmet just enough to tell you yes, you know me unlike any other being in the galaxy.

You stood on your toes, one hand leaving his chest to cup the underside of his helmet, your lips close to where his ear might be. “You don’t let just anyone put on your beskar?”

He nearly choked on his breath at the tone of your voice. Low, sultry, cooing as it sang along the edge of want and desire. He slid his hands up your back, his fingers ghosting over the laces of your corset he had just tied nice and tight. He moved his head just slightly, angling his neck to get a better view of the knowing expression on your face. You were smug, as if you knew what you were doing to him. As if you knew your words were absolute fire and smoke, and you had just pierced his heart head-on with it. He shook his head slightly to answer you, and he leaned in even closer, the front of his helmet skimming the plush curve of your bottom lip.

“I don’t let just anyone take it off, either.”

Oh.

Your knees nearly buckled at the admission. You swallowed hard, your hand curling around the neck of his cape. You gripped him tightly to keep from collapsing, your mouth suddenly dry and completely devoid of a quick comeback. You stared at him, mouth agape as you registered his retort. He liked this reaction from you. He was never completely confident that he had an effect over you, but the way your body clung to his for support just by a few choice words told him there was a warmth in you that rivaled his own.

“Well,” you laughed breathily, in disbelief almost. You stepped even closer, your hips suddenly flush against his. “Was that…are you flirting with me?”

You broke out into the brightest smile, leaning back a bit to get a better look at him. He was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling steadily, staring down at you as piercing as ever. You adored him like this; you always wanted his attention on you and only you.

“The Mandalorian flirting…” You bit your lip. “I like it.”

He tilted his head to the side, and you giggled, getting up on your toes to press a kiss to where you hoped his mouth was under the helmet. You nuzzled your nose against the metal for a moment before moving back. You took a step or two back away from him, his hands forced to fall from your waist. Your hands never let go of his though, and you squeezed his palms gently before letting his hands finally fall to his side.

“I had no idea Mandalorians could flirt,” you said as you started to help him pack up his room. His rifle was leaned up against the wall by the bed, and he had other weapons and supplies strewn about. “Is that something you learn during your training?”

“No.”

You laughed at his response, shaking your head slightly.

“I suppose not,” you sighed happily. “I’m sure everything with Mandalorians is very serious. I bet you court each other with a strict protocol.” You made a little salute with two fingers to your forehead.

“I…am not too familiar with Mandalorian courting rituals,” he said lowly as he put the rifle around his shoulder. “I have never felt the need to abide by them.”

“And why is that?” You asked casually, stuffing some credits into a small pouch so he wouldn’t lose them.

“The rituals I’m acquainted with are subtle,” he replied matter-of-factly. “I did not think you would notice them. I have had to resort to other methods.”

Your paused your movements for a moment, frozen in your spot. You swallowed hard, shaking your head again and continuing to organize the bag in your hands.

“Ha, ha,” you said sarcastically. “You’re hilarious. I didn’t know Mandalorians told jokes either.”

“I would never lie to you,” he replied simply. You suddenly had a lump in your throat. Your mouth was dry, so dry it hurt. Your heart tightened in your chest, and you clutched the bag to your middle. You had your back to him, and although he moved quietly, you could feel him stepping closer to you. You trembled just a bit, feeling your hands shake.

You thought this had just been teasing. You thought he was just entertaining your flirty remarks, letting you giggle and laugh and joke because it was what you needed to feel comfortable. You thought Mandalorians were the greatest warriors in the galaxy, and there was no room in their Creed for courting or love or romance, at least not with someone like you.

You did not swear on any Creed. You did not wear any helmet. You were not bound to any covert or Tribe or people of any kind. You were technically not even a warrior. You knew only what the Mandalorian had shown you, and while you could hold your own at his side, you did not grow learning how to make a blade an extension of your hand or the intricacies of a blaster. You were you, and that was all you had to give, and you did not think that would be enough for a Mandalorian. A solider, a warrior, however you wanted to call them, they were master hunters and avid fighters and women like you did not belong with them. In fact, you really couldn’t picture anyone belonging to a Mandalorian except perhaps another warrior of equal standing. You pictured, at the Mandalorian’s side, a woman who perhaps could spar with him and win.

A woman who could understand him in ways that I might never be able to.

When you turned to face him, your eyes were wet with tears. You looked up at him with a quivering bottom lip, and the Mandalorian tilted his head to the side, examining the defeated expression on your face. You were in love with him, more than you had ever been with anyone else before. You had never seen his face, you had no idea the name he was given by his mother, but you were in love with him. Despite the past you knew he had, the Mandalorian was noble and honorable, at least with you and those you had encountered. Every day with him was an adventure. New planets, new people, new languages, incredible experiences, a new skill here and a beautiful view there. Your life was color and vibrance and noise and wonder, and you had never slept more peacefully than in your small cubby in his ship, layered with pillows and blankets that he had bought for you. The Mandalorian showed you, time and time again, that he was not the murderer he once might’ve been. He was care and protectiveness and safekeeping incarnate in impenetrable armor, and you were in love with him.

You had loved him since he first touched your face after you watched him kill his first adversary for you. One green, slimy hand had touched your waist, and that was all he needed to sink the blade from his boot right through the creature’s middle. His violence in response to your wellbeing should’ve terrified you, but it pulled you right in. He had touched your face in a silent question, to wonder if you were okay, and you had just nodded up at him, letting his leather glove sweep over your lip and rub the smudge of blood away from it.

The Mandalorian was not good. In fact, he had a past that followed him darkly, a grey cloud that flooded his mood with rain when you met someone he once knew.

The things Mando used to do…has he ever told you about the bounty we captured in the Outer Rim?

Mando, have you gone soft?

Mando always needed target practice, isn’t that right, Mando?

He took down an entire platoon with just that blade. What he would do with that rifle of his…

You admired the stories, but you could tell they did not soothe him or fill him with any sense of pride. The Mandalorian said nothing about those comments, only moved the conversation forward. He never wanted to be reminded about who he once was; that, or he did not want you to know who he once was. If you discovered the shell of a man he used to be, he feared you might still find him worthy. Worthy of what, he wasn’t quite sure, but he knew he was unworthy, nonetheless.

“I thought…” The Mandalorian paused. He did not want to say the wrong thing. “I know I am not…it is not easy to feel a certain way for me—”

“To love you?” You scoffed, letting a tear finally fall. “Just say it. It’s not easy to love you? Is that what you meant to say?”

Your voice was shrill and hurt. You put his bag down, your fingers fiddling with each other to keep yourself occupied. The Mandalorian just moved his helmet in just a way to agree with you. You shook your head at that, looking away from him as you sucked in a deep breath.

“That’s the understatement of the century,” you murmured. “Not easy to love you? You’re…you’re impossible!” Your voice came out as a curt yell, and you surprised yourself with the heavy anger there. “You’re impossible to love. It’s like…sometimes I feel like I’m talking to the wall…” You closed your eyes, your cheeks wet now as your tears fell and fell and refused to stop. “I feel like I’m talking to the wall, and you still manage to drive me insane.”

He stepped even closer, shielding you from the rising sun. His broad figure cast a dark shadow over you, and despite the heavy ache in your chest, his closeness was welcome.

“You’re—” You continued, and he let you. “You barely talk. You barely tell me anything about yourself. I don’t even know your name…” You nearly whined when his hand came up to cup the side of your face, his thumb wiping the wetness of your tears from your skin. “But I can’t help it—” You relaxed when he brought both hands up to cradle your face in his hands. You were at peace here, so tranquil in the silence of his company. “I have never…I have never felt this way before. And I feel it with a kriffing Mandalorian…”

“What do…what do you feel?”

You opened your eyes again, staring up into his visor. He sounded nervous. It was a tone of voice you were unfamiliar with. The Mandalorian was never nervous; and he certainly was never insecure nor unsure of himself.

“Are you kidding me?” You breathed, putting your hands over his on your face. “You know, for a Mandalorian, you suck at reading the room.”

He tilted his head to the other side, and you squeezed his hands under yours. You slid your hands down the back of his own, over his wrist. You traced the beskar of his vambraces, up and over his elbow and along his biceps. You slid your palms over the pauldrons on his shoulders and then brought your arms around his neck. You stepped even closer, close enough that your hands pushed on the back of his helmet and dipped his head down to yours.

You closed your eyes as the sweet, cool kiss of beskar touched your forehead. You knew the significance of such an embrace; you had asked a member of his covert once, when you and he sought refuge, if Mandalorians were capable of showing affection when they never showed each other their faces. They had mentioned the act of polishing armor, of securing it to each other’s bodies, of giving each other gifts of their signet, but the one that stuck the most in your mind had been the kiss of their helmets. You noted the fact that none of these were words of affection; like your Mandalorian, their rituals were silent in manner and deep in meaning.

You had no way of knowing how wonderful the shake that ran through the Mandalorian all the way through his toes felt. He was warm all over at your kiss, and he was afraid that if he opened his mouth, the only sound that would come over the vocoder would be a groan, a sound of relief at the fact that his all-consuming love for you was in fact not unrequited.

You had learned a meaningful part of his culture and were using it to tell him everything he needed to know about how you felt. It was as if you could peer directly into his heart, as if you knew exactly how to communicate with him. You were so clear and pervasive, and at this, the Mandalorian knew you understood him in ways not even his Tribe was ever able to. This was a union that he would never find anywhere else, an invisible link he shared with you that no one else could ever imitate.

“I love you,” you whispered. Speaking love, this was your way of life. He listened, not daring to speak, to allow you to share your thoughts without interruption. “I…I can’t remember how long it’s been. I’ve loved you for so long, that I…I don’t even remember what it was like to not feel this way.” Your hands curled around the back of his neck again, feeling the rough fabric of his cape there. You had patched this cape many times yourself, sewing up the holes left by blasters and the singed hem from fire. “And I never want to forget this feeling. Ever.”

You stayed there for a few long moments with him. His arms were wound tight around your waist, holding you to him. Your own were wrapped around his neck, your forehead pressed to the helmet as you breathed warmly against the metal, your lips kissing it lightly as you breathed in the moment. He was quiet, and so were you, and it was in the silence of your embrace that you could feel the joy radiating off his armor like heat. The Mandalorian was happy, and you smiled the longer you held each other.

“We should get going,” you said finally, lifting your forehead off his helmet and letting out a content sigh. “Shouldn’t we?”

He was quick. He bent slightly at the knees, his hands falling from your waist to grab at you from under your knees. He lifted your legs to wrap them around his middle, and you gasped in surprised as, with incredible grace and strength, he planted you on the edge of the dresser. You looked down at him easily in this position, and he took his place between your legs, so close that your lips bumped against the forehead of his helmet as he got comfortable here.

You laughed a bit, your hands moving up to hold where his cheeks would be. You had never seen his face, but he was beautiful in ways you couldn’t describe. Physically, the broadness and firmness of his unyielding figure were enough to have you weak in the knees; but his sweltering physique was coupled with a tender heart and skillful hands, and it made the Mandalorian a physical amalgamation of every need and desire you had ever dreamed about.

The Mandalorian was far from perfection; but on the stars, he was perfection in your eyes, and you would change nothing about him. You would not even change the fact that you did not know what his kiss felt like or what color his eyes were. You welcomed the idea that the Mandalorian you knew was faultlessness and loveliness inside (at least to you), and no matter how many layers he was unable to shed for you, you were familiar with the most important part of him all, the part that rested underneath all of the heavy beskar and warm skin.

You knew him. That was all that mattered, and that was all that would ever matter to you.

“There are…” He did not know how to voice the ache in his chest. “There are things I can’t tell you, things that…I might never be able to—”

“Shhh,” you rested your cheek against his helmet, closing your eyes as you hugged him as close as possible. “I…I love you as you are. I…I will never ask for more than you can give me. You are enough. This is enough.”

If he never showed his face to you, you would still be content. If he never told you his name, you would still love him more than anything in the galaxy. If he never let you feel his skin or kiss his lips or understand what colors his eyes were when he voiced his own love, you would still be the luckiest woman that ever lived. There was no need to wonder. You never wondered, in fact. None of it mattered to you; the Mandalorian was enough just like this, staring up at you with firm hands holding the pieces of you together.

“You deserve more,” he said gently.

“I don’t want more,” you shook your head, breathing in the scent of him deeply. He smelled so good; he smelled like warm sand and a spring waterfall, just a hint of smoke and fire. It was more comforting than anything to fill your senses with him. “I want you.”

You said it as if it was the simplest answer; you said it easily, smoothly, with no hesitation or shake or fear. You said it as if it was the easiest announcement you ever gave; and truthfully, it was. You were certain no creature or being anywhere among the stars could ever make you feel this way again. You had discovered your person. Your person was a Mandalorian. This Mandalorian—adorned in sparkling silver beskar, smelling like blaster fire and pretty skies, with an arsenal around his waist and a heart of pliable steel.

Pliable. Not rigid, not unfeeling. Pliable. At least in my hands.

“Did you hear me, Mandalorian?” You asked, a bright smile widening over your face. You leaned back a bit to look at him better. “I want you.”

“Yes,” he swallowed hard. His voice was so low, barely audible over the modulator. “Yes, I heard you.”

You gave him soft eyes as you felt his hand slip low, over the outside of your leg. Your breath hitched as you felt his careful fingers slip over the edge of your thigh holster, undoing the first buckle. Your hands dragged around his neck, your palms pressing flat against his chest plate, letting the cool metal soothe the heat in them. He had spent some time fitting you into your armor, and now he was taking it off just as carefully, just as slowly, just as teasingly. He had to know now what his touch did to you.

He had to.

Once the holster was undone, it fell to the floor, and you both stared at each other wordlessly. You continued to say nothing as you reached around him to undo the ties on your boots and toe them off until they fell with a thud onto the floor. You kept your gaze fixed on his visor as you moved his hands higher up on your waist, hooking your fingers into the sides of your pants and tugging them down and off your legs, discarded haphazardly over your boots on the floor.

This was an invitation. It was a silent offer of you can have me and I am yours. You were perched up in his grasp, sitting pretty in his arms, and while the Mandalorian could not give you all of him, you could, and you would. His resolve was faltering at your request; it was selfish to give into you when he could not give you the same in return, but he could feel himself physically hurting the longer he tried to resist his intense cravings of you.

It was almost saddening to think that he did not know how much you didn’t care. You didn’t care about how much he was able to give you, or for how little time. You wanted him in whatever way he would allow, and you would savor that for the rest of your days. Love was unseeing, and it was not patient, but weakly, you hoped it would be forgiving.

“Din,” he murmured lowly, so quiet, you barely heard it. He could at least give you this; it was a sacred word, but he felt this would be enough for now. “My…name is Din.”

His name. The crackle between his words warned you enough. His name could only be spoken like this; in the quiet of your presence, with no one else around to hear it. He had let you have of piece of him, and you promised, silently, that you would hold it so tight and keep it safe. You would never say his name to another, not even in death.

Is that how far you will go for him?

Your head lulled back against the wall when you felt him for the first time. Filling you to the brim with a warmth and heaviness that you had always longed for, he was perfection in one man, you were convinced of that now. His voice gave in, uttering a broken groan of utter pleasure and relief that made your insides feel as if they were on fire. You were so mistaken before; you thought him flawed to the outside stars but perfection in your eyes, but you knew now that there was nothing the Mandalorian lacked. He was perfect, so perfect, and gods, he felt like he was going to break you in two with how good he was making you feel.

I would do anything for him; and yes, I think I’d even die.

You cradled his head to your chest as you pressed your hips flush against his, your eyes closing tight as he grasped at your waist. He was pawing at your back, his gloved hands clutching onto the fabric of your dress and corset as he tried to calm the feeling of unhinged pleasure that was rippling through him. It was no use; you were so tight and welcoming around him, and the feeling was forcing him to lose all sense of focus. The Mandalorian had never felt so helpless to one single thing; you were breaking his resolution without even trying. No, that was lie; the sudden, aching grind of your hips against his was agonizingly effective.

You didn’t remember how you made it from the dresser to his bed, but suddenly he was on his back and your hands were fixed on his chest plate, and you were pushing your hair back as you kept up the grueling pace he had already begun. His knees bent, supporting you from behind, and you bit your lip hard to keep yourself together. The firmness of his thighs were only heightened by the beskar secured around them, and the metal was digging into your back deliciously. Your teeth biting down into your lip muffled the sounds you might make, and he couldn’t have that. Sitting up to support you even more, he reached up with a gloved hand and used his thumb to open your mouth wide, a high-pitched gasp leaving you as soon as you could voice it.

I want to hear you, the action told you. I want to hear how you sound when I make you mine.

You looked into the depth of his visor, your hands sliding up onto his shoulders, finding the space between his neck and the pauldrons he still wore, squeezing the firm muscle there. You had slowed your movements to look at him, to get comfortable again in his arms, and you both were having a difficult time trying to breathe properly. You leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his helmet, whimpering as you sank down even further on him. He was nestled deep, and you were clenching hard. You thought it might be awkward to fuck the Mandalorian with his helmet still on; the thought of not being able to kiss him made your heart ache. Instead, it was an intimacy that comforted you to no end.

You could not know what he looked like, but you knew what he felt like. You would learn what every ridge of him felt like, what every curve of him touched inside of you, how hard he remained even with the relief of how tightly you squeezed him. There was not another woman or creature in the galaxy that would ever memorize this; you were determined not to allow that. The Mandalorian was yours now, and you would fuck him blind to make him understand this.

“Promise me this won’t be the last time,” you begged, tugging his chest to yours, kissing the metal of his helmet wherever your lips touched. “Promise me I can have you…please.”

Gods, he’s making it hard to breathe. I can’t think.

“Please, Din.”

You did not get a response. Instead, he gripped your hips tight and guided them back into a rhythm, a pace that started slow and gentle and climbed in stride as your own desire climbed in you. His touch was soft, but the tormenting feeling of him hitting you deep again and again and again was anything but gentle. The Mandalorian was skilled in not just combat, and you grew jealous wondering how a man such as him learned to be such a capable, intense lover.

“Din, promise me,” you whined. Now that you knew his name, you did not stop. It felt so good to say it, and he seemed to fuck you harder each time you said it. He liked the sound; your sweet, soft voice saying his name like a prayer. You were beginning to think your Creed was this, the panting cry of his name as you met each of his thrusts with just as much fervor, the—Din, Din, gah—please!—it was the mantra you wanted to say for the rest of your days. The Mandalorian had whittled you down to this; a half-naked woman who was beginning to forget every word in her vocabulary just at the feeling of her lover’s touch.

But he wasn’t doing much better than you. His jaw was slack beneath the helmet, his visor fixated on the beautiful bounce you carried as you met each grind of his hips. He memorized the way sweat clung to your skin, beading along your hairline and a little down your neck, and he refrained from the urge to smear it around you and make you sparkle with your own desire. The Mandalorian was fully clothed, gloves still fastened and armor clanking together and digging into your soft skin, but he felt utterly naked at this moment. It was daylight, and the love of his life was whimpering his name—his fucking name—and he had nowhere to go and felt no other sense of purpose except for getting you to that sense of haven and watching you let go. You were tighter than he imagined, taking him so deep he thought he might feel your throat, and the way your body enveloped him made him realize just how much you wanted him in the same way he wanted you.

You were bound. There was nowhere to go. No matter what the Mandalorian did for the rest of his life, this was where he would always end up. You could leave, he could leave, there could be lightyears between you, but somehow, he knew, he would end up here again. He could see it, as if he could see some distant future, visions of himself coming back to you. In some of those visions, he saw his own eyes, brown and blown wide and starving for your touch.

“Din, stars—” You choked out, bracing yourself against his chest. “Focus on me…” You laughed a bit, leaning down and nuzzling your face into the fabric of his neck. Even fully donned in armor, you knew his mind was somewhere else. You needed it to be on you. “I need…ahh…I need more.”

No, that wouldn’t do. The thought of you needing more from him was too much to bear. He took a hold of your throat, gently, but you seemed to enjoy the grasp, and with a startling burst of strength, the Mandalorian flipped the two of you, your back hitting the bed as he curled your leg around his waist. You stared up at him, lifting a hand and putting it to the curve of his helmet, stroking it gently with your thumb.

“Need you,” you whispered, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes. You were drunk on the presence of him, feeling as if he had already taken you over the brink of bliss, and yet you were still needing to feel a release. He was driving you crazy, and you hadn’t even come yet. You had never seen his face, and yet there was no one in the galaxy that had ever made you feel quite this lustful; wet, dripping onto him like spring rain, staining the dark of his flight suit, a sinful, gushing reminder of what he was doing to you.

He kept his hand at your throat, soothing your pouty lips with a smooth leather finger. He gripped your face roughly, his forehead to yours as he continued the pace you had both set. Now, he was stuffing you full of him, his weight pressing into you and drilling you into the bed deliciously. You wanted more of him, all of him, heavy and broad all on top of you. He was holding your gaze and gripping you tight and fucking you with the control and determination of a true Mandalorian. He had promised you this, and Mandalorians were true to their word.

It would be against his Creed to do anything else besides make you his.

You let out gurgled moans, your eyes rolling back a bit in your head as he started to hit that warm, spongey place deep inside of you. He could feel how you responded, the way your stomach tensed, thighs trapping him against you, your nails digging into fabric around his neck. You were seeing stars, real stars, blinding your vision of him as you said his name again and again and again. He was so focused on you, starting to lose control of himself and fuck, how he wanted so badly to kiss you. He almost dropped the helmet and forced his mouth on yours, but both your hands rose up and gripped the sides of his helmet for support as you felt that cord ready to snap, ready to break, ready for him.

“Din—” You whined. “Din, I-I…I’m gonna—”

“Take it,” he spoke finally, and you moaned so loud at the heaviness of his tone, the desire in his voice. “Take it…take what you want—”

That was his promise to you. Whatever you needed, whatever you wanted, the Mandalorian would give it to you. If you wanted this moment to last the rest of your days, he would give it to you. All you had to do was take it.

All she has to do is ask, and I will do whatever she says. Whatever burns her, I will set on fire. Whatever hurts her, I will make nonexistent. Whatever wound of her cries, I will mend.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, trying to hold yourself together. It was impossible. You closed your eyes and clawed at the fabric around his neck, shifting your head close enough that you revealed the skin beneath it and kissed it, your lips wet and eager to touch any part of him. You bit down gently, sucking soft, bruising the skin there as he took you to another place entirely. Someplace bright and euphoric and never-ending, someplace where your entire body shook, your thighs closed, your moans never ceased. He was taking you to another planet maybe, at least in your head, and you soothed the bites you were leaving on his neck with wet licks and sweet kisses. He would be bruised when he looked in the mirror. Your insides turned at the thought that when he took off his helmet later, alone, he would be the only one to see your marks littered there.

Even as the searing pleasure faded a bit, you kept your legs tight around his waist. You let out quiet whimpers as he kept up his intense rhythm, your hips still trying desperately to meet his own. You wanted to feel him, needed to feel him, and you pulled away to look into the depth of his helmet, hoping he would see the pure want in your eyes.

“Yeah?” He asked lowly, squeezing the flesh of your throat. You licked your lips, nodding hurriedly. He lost his composure, a few sloppy thrusts before he choked out a low groan, right into your ear. You thought maybe you fell over the edge again as he filled you to the brim. You shut your eyes tight, a soft moan escaping as you reveled in the feeling of being so full and so elated. You felt your thighs become sticky as he pulled out just slightly, wetness pooling between you, and then you yelped with surprise as he pushed right back in, squeezing your throat possessively.

You giggled in a daze, lifting a hand and dragging your fingers down the side of his helmet. You both were panting hard, drinking in the fog of pleasure. You smiled up at him, leaning up and kissing the helmet wherever you could.

You hummed softly when he left you, your eyes fluttering shut as you tried to relax. You heard the rustle of clothing, the heavy clank of beskar. You steadied your breathing as you heard him move around the room, and then you sighed deeply as you felt his hands on you, gentle as they wiped you down and got you dressed. You sat up slowly, finally opening your eyes, and you grinned up at him again, feeling warm all over as he fixed your corset again. His thumbs grazed over the swell of your cleavage, and you bit your lip at the feeling. The Mandalorian was touching you now, and he was not shy about it. It drove you wild inside to know he couldn’t help himself.

He picked up your thigh holster off the floor, taking a seat in the chair again. You stood up, on wobbly legs, and you took a seat in his lap this time, one arm going around his shoulders as he fastened the first buckle around you. You were being affectionate now, leaning your head against the side of his helmet as he continued carefully, silently, contently. He did not push you away or tense at your touch. He liked having you close.

“You know…” You said hoarsely, watching him buckle another strap, “I know…how to do this. I…just…I like when you do it. For me.”

He rested his hand on your thigh when he finished, turning his head to face you. You swallowed hard, nervous as he stared at you.

“I…want to do it for you,” he said lowly. You smiled at him, framed by sunshine and soft wind, and he had to tell himself to breathe as he looked over you.

You leaned forward, closing your eyes as you rested your forehead against his. He closed his own, savoring the kiss you so easily gave him, the love you had no problem expressing. You were so at ease like this, as if you were made solely for the purpose of giving the love you held so dearly. In truth, you had bottled up these feelings for so long. You feared crossing a line with him, doing something that went against his sacred religion or the vows he had made to wear the beskar he had become. Now that you had crossed the threshold, you feared not showing exactly what you felt. The Mandalorian made you feel new again, whole again. You would not go another day without showing him the very parts of you that ached to be seen.

Because he sees me. He does not look through me, he sees me. I have no idea what his eyes look like, but I know they are on me, and I know he’s looking at me, and I know he sees me.

In the silence of this room, on a planet you could not remember the name of, you made your own vows; a Mandalorian as your Creed, his name your prayer, and his touch the salvation that brought you home.

[kaciidubs]

That's all very hot but what if I dominate Chan? What if I make him beg for me? What if I sit on his face? What if I'm the one in charge??? Huh,??? Christopher I'm gonna make you my little bitch

By all means, dominate him to your heart's content! I'm sure pretty boy over here won't have many complaints...

"What makes you think you deserve it?"

It felt like you'd asked him that question a hundred times, and each time he answered you gave him an inch of what he truly desired.

"P-Please, I've been a good boy- Channie's been a good boy, I haven't touched myself, I-I haven't looked at pictures or videos, please, Miss."

He was a babbling mess, at this rate he'd confess to things he didn't even do if it meant you'd give him even a second of your time.

And perhaps this time you were feeling generous, normally you would make him plead his case a bit more, but he wasn't about to argue when you finally lowered yourself onto his face; his tongue immediately diving between your folds as if it were his life's purpose.

"Jesus- Did they starve you while you were in Japan? It's not going anywhere."

Though, you knew your words were falling on deaf ears - and not just because your thighs all but muffled them - as he continued to fervently eat you out.

"Christopher, fuck, slow down!"

Your demand was simply met with a muffled moan as he lifted his head higher, drunk off the arousal coating his tongue the more he dipped it past your walls.

However, his blissful ignorance would be cut short with a hard tug to his hair, pulling his head back as you lifted yourself away from his sinful mouth.

"If you're going to be dumb slut and forget about your home training, I'll be happy to remind you of your place, brat."

Through the twist of pain on his face, you could clearly see the pleasure rolling in his eyes as he blinked up at you.

"'M sorry, Miss, I'll listen, I promise!"

"You better, or the only place that dick of yours is going is in a cock ring, you hear me?"

He nodded as best he could with your grip on his head, "Y-Yes, Miss!"

Letting him go, you let him get back to his previous task, albeit a bit slower and much more calculated than before - though, you knew him better than he knew himself, and even with the threat of punishment, he'd get off just the same, it was just about how long he'd want to play the game of obedience.

[unedited]

[lisired]

venomous

pairing: bodyguard!yuta x (f) reader

genre/warnings: crime!au, thriller, angst, graphic violence, mentions of drugs/drugging, character death, implied smut, implied misogynistic behavior, mentions of dv, one instance of attempted abuse, mc’s father is an asshole

summary: Born into the underworld, crime was all you’d known your entire life and was practically in your blood - murder, drugs, money, power, and everything in between. In spite of your father leading one of the two major gangs that dominated Asia, you managed to keep safe. But all that changes once the rival gang has bad blood to settle with your father, and suddenly a vendetta’s being pursued against you.

word count: 18.8k

a/n: part of the Game of Survival collab call by neo-shitty. feedback is appreciated!

Maybe you were paranoid. As heir to one of the most prosperous crime rings in the country you had grown familiar with the feeling, but you’d never get used to it.

You tried to chalk it up to the uneasiness of being present at yet another of your father’s parties, feeling like a weed amongst flowers, but you knew at the same time it was relieving to break away from your rather mundane lifestyle - condemned to your bedroom with a guard outside your door, in case the idea to wander around emerged within your mind yet again.

Feasting your eyes on the crowd was one of your favorite weekly, on some occasions biweekly, pastimes. Pretty people adorned in flashy attire that you were sometimes lucky to be able to engage in conversation with whenever your bodyguard pitied you enough to turn a blind eye to your activities. You usually dreaded no part of the evening save for the end, so you couldn’t fathom why you couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

Until you noticed a frantic Nakamoto Yuta rushing towards you hardly twenty minutes later.

“Get up,” your bodyguard ordered, yanking you from the seat impatiently. You were forced to set down the drink you had requested to calm your nerves, following Yuta as he ushered you throughout the crowd.

Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. And you were dying to get to the bottom of it.

“What’s the matter?” you asked. “Is something wrong?”

“No time to explain,” he answered curtly. “Just follow me.”

Almost a dozen more questions remained at the tip of your tongue, yet you kept them anchored. Knowing Yuta, he was only trying to keep you safe. That was his priority. Everything else came second.

Yuta led you to an exit situated towards the rear side of the venue, more easily accessible than the front entrance. For a split second he checked his watch, eyes flashing with urgency. He wasted no time to pull at your arm and drag you along in the path of his body.

Though in your high heels and flowy dress, it was impossible to match his pace. You were stumbling and on the verge of twisting an ankle, nearly collapsing if it weren’t for his never-loosening grip on you. “Yuta!” you shrieked. “Slow down.”

Slowing down wasn’t an option. Not only would Yuta’s life be at stake if he neglected his job, but he’d never forgive himself if he let anything bad happen to you. Instead he settled for pausing for a moment to swoop you into his arms, not stopping when you squealed from the sudden change and dashing further into the distance.

Even as he ran, Yuta held you securely in his arms, holding you tightly with dedication smoldering in his irises. You could see it from the position you were in, staring into him adoringly. You knew that the situation likely wouldn’t feel half as intimate if you knew the details, but ignorance was truly bliss. You admired his auburn hair and stoic face up until he helped you into a vehicle, and you couldn’t help but notice your father’s chauffeur was already gone.

Fingertips pressed against the window, you stared outside the glass as he drove, your heart collapsing inside your chest as you saw panicked flocks of people running frantically out of the venue you had miraculously escaped.

You had dodged a bullet, but at what cost?

Waiting for you and Yuta in your room when you arrived back home at the headquarters was your father.

“Dad?” you said, tone laced with confusion. “What’s wrong?”

Your father only put a finger up to his lip and ushered for Yuta to shut the door before he glanced back at you blankly. It perturbed you; sent shivers down your spine as you wondered what in the hell could have been happening for everyone to be so unforthcoming.

“The Serpents put a hit out on me,” he finally said.

You shrieked, “What?”

He held his finger to his lips again. “They believe I’m responsible for the death of their former heiress, and now they have a vendetta against us. That means you’re in just as much danger as I am. I want you to remain here until things clear up - no more parties and no exiting this room without Nakamoto only. You are to trust no other guard. He’ll bring you all your meals and whatever other essentials you may need.”

It felt as though the room was spinning. You couldn’t believe the words coming from his mouth. The Empire and the Serpents had always loathed one another for as long as you could remember, connected by means of rivalry and battling for the throne - perpetual success and power. This was something drastically different. They were intent on seeking your family for immaterial issues: vengeance.

“Did you kill her?”

Your father seemed greatly affronted by your question. “Of course not! I have no connection to that woman. They say her cause of death was ruled to be food poisoning.”

You knew that. Her death was massive news in the underworld when you were little, rumors getting tossed back and forth between people with some being that the Empire was responsible, but none of them were plausible. Everyone only knew what the Serpents disclosed - the cause of death. However that was, give or take, two decades ago, and for the matter to resurface out of the blue was nothing short of questionable.

Merely attempting at wrapping your head around your newfound situation was making your brain short-circuit. If your father didn’t kill her, then there was no reason for any of this to be happening. In spite of the feud between both gangs, neither were small-minded enough to create bold-faced lies or threaten violence against one another. Neither were sloppy. That meant either of two things: they somehow made a mistake, or your father was lying.

You hated the thought of the latter.

You shook your head. “I don’t understand.”

“Get some rest,” he replied, dismissing your confusion. “The building is on lockdown; no one gets in or out without my say so. It’ll be okay. Goodnight.”

He slipped out of the room, and you were left alone with Yuta and your thoughts.

Yuta walked you to your bed and sat down beside you. “You okay?”

“I’m terrified,” your voice was barely above a whisper. After living your whole life in the underworld you thought that you had reached a point of numbness, desensitized to the harsh reality. Now that it was you and your father’s lives at stake however, you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

Every waking and unwaking moment was a dangerous one, you knew that. Your father was notorious; wanted by gangs, law enforcement, and all things alike. It never bothered you because you knew your people were unreachable to inferior groups, but the Serpents were on the same level as the Empire. They knew the game as thoroughly as your people did. They had just as much potential to win.

“Don’t worry,” Yuta cooed, stroking your back. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

You made a pitiful attempt at hiding your smile. You knew he was right. Yuta had given his all into protecting you for the past two years, never once neglecting his responsibilities. He took his job ever so seriously, and it was a relief to know that there was someone who valued your safety standing right outside your door at all times.

For a moment, you were comforted. Maybe everything would be okay.

But the following morning only maintained your worries that the Serpents were a force to be reckoned with.

Yuta showed you an image of a burnt down building. “This is, was the venue from yesterday. The Serpents burnt it down. That’s the reason I was rushing to get you out and back here. Your father commanded me to move with speed and efficiency.”

Your eyes widened. Last night you were two minutes away from being swallowed alive by flames. It suddenly clicked; why people were swarming outside the building. They were running for their lives.

“Was there a motive?”

“To scare you,” Yuta shrugged, finding the answer obvious. “Probably a warning. Makes the most sense. They’re giving your daddy the chance to turn himself in before they have to strike by force.”

It did make sense; you were no stranger to the method. That was just the dirty way crime worked. Ultimatums were never heavenly decisions. This one in particular was bring yourself into me, or die trying to escape.

Obtaining a member of an organized crime ring was no easy task, however. Your headquarters were hidden and security was intricately layered. There might have only been one guard at your door, but there were plenty scattered everywhere and only you, Yuta, and your father knew the passcode to your corridor. Not even the other inner circle members had access. Getting to you was mission impossible, they could have only imagined getting to your father. 

“That means that last night probably won’t be the last time something drastic happens,” you murmured. “I reckon they won’t offer many warnings, but they’re going to make their presence known. And they’re only going to get more and more dangerous each time.”

Yuta chuckled. “You know your shit.”

“That’s nothing. But being the daughter of a gang leader, I oughta know a thing or two about how these people operate.”

“You know about the Empire’s methods of operation, but what do you know about the Serpents?” Yuta asked, adding when you arched your eyebrow, “They’re similar, yeah, but still bound to be different as hell. The more you know about the Serpents, the more predictable they are.”

You mulled it over. “I know a little bit. Basic things.”

He looked ready, eyes telling you to shoot. “Run it to me, princess.”

Biting your lip, you collected your thoughts into sentences before you spoke.

“They’re a complex group, but they only have six inner circle members - the leader, his right-hand, the head of arms and drug dealing, the spy and tracker, the hacker, and the treasurer,” you started. “Their names are undisclosed as far as I know, but each member has an alias by the name of snakes chosen for different reasons and all with different meanings pertaining to their character.”

Yuta nodded along. “Do you know them?”

“I know the names, not sure about all of the meanings behind them,” you confessed. Some of them were self-explanatory, but others you couldn’t fathom why that specific snake was chosen as their identity.

Yuta urged you on and you continued, “The leader is called the King Cobra for obvious reasons. King cobras are the longest venomous snakes, so I assume his meaning has something to do with extensive power and control,” you explained. “The right-hand is called the Python. Allegedly because he has a suffocating presence, and pythons are non-venomous constricting snakes.”

“The spy and tracker is called the Viper. Viper’s are ambushers and rely on their ability to camouflage to attack their prey. It’s not that big of a jump to make that he’s deceitful and able to blend in with his surroundings or appear as a non-threat as their spy. After tracking down his target, he awaits the right moment to strike,” you gazed at Yuta to see if you had his attention, and to your pleasure he seemed nothing short of intrigued by your knowledge. Snooping around the headquarters and eavesdropping during parties was how you picked up on most of the information. Boredom egged you on to doing unimaginable things. You even snook a book about snakes from the library one time, just so that you could research the Serpents.

“The dealer is called the Black Mamba, the hacker is called the Boa, and the treasurer is called the Copperhead. I haven’t been able to reach a solid conclusion on them.”

Yuta nodded once more, impressed. As a guard you figured he’d probably picked up on some information too, the same way you did - from other henchmen - except he likely knew more from actual conversations. You relied on poking your nose where it didn’t belong.

“Good work,” he said, then joked, “and is that what sneaking out has taught you?”

You grinned. “Damn right.”

“It’s pretty good work. I mean that. But you should also know their operations as a whole,” Yuta said, and it made you wonder just how much he knew altogether. “Empire are infamous for their coercion methods and obtaining their desires through force and abuse of power. They’re bullets you see coming but can’t move quick enough to dodge. The Serpents on the other hand are sly motherfuckers. You’d never suspect their next move. Once you realize you’re trapped by them, you’re already staring down the barrel.”

That was unnerving. He was basically trying to teach you how to predict the unpredictable.

Yuta glanced at the clock on your nightstand. “Shit, I gotta go to this meeting. I’ll be back in two hours. You need anything before I go?”

You shook your head. “I’m good.”

“Alright. Behave,” Yuta chastised, making you giggle.

“What you gonna do if I don’t?” You asked, batting your lashes.

A fire flashed behind his eyes. He growled, “What did I tell you about tempting me, woman? I’ll see you later.”

Yuta left before you could attempt to spur him on further and you giggled. Your relationship with him was complicated - you wanted him, he wanted you, but being together was entirely forbidden. There was no label. You just pretended as if you weren’t in love.

You stood up and headed for your closet, preparing to change into something less vibrant than your strawberry pajamas. Love came second. Your life was on the line and you hardly had details about what was a life-threatening situation. You were on a mission to survive.

In spite of the meeting, some henchmen were still obligated to stick around the corridors. Growing up in the headquarters gave you an advantage though. Back when you were little, you learned how to crawl through vents.

The building structure hadn’t changed since you were born. Modernized, but every route still led to the exact same places they were originally planned to. Your childhood recklessness helped you engrave the paths into your memory, and thus you managed to turn up exactly where you wanted twenty-ish years later.

Outside your father’s office.

Last night you overheard Yuta on the phone. He must’ve thought you were asleep, otherwise you doubted he would have taken the call dead in your face, knowing how you were - too curious for your own good, fueled by the information you were sheltered from for decades. He mentioned your father would be discussing several things with the inner circle to decide how to best move forward. That was enough information for you to begin planning how you’d get there and a good starting point for figuring out exactly what the hell was going on.

Secrets being kept away from you was nothing new. You had dealt with that bullshit your entire life. But now you were being underly-informed about something that could potential end your life and that was the last straw. You refused to sit around and know nothing. 

The door was cracked ajar. You couldn’t see in, but you could hear and make out all the voices inside - your father’s, and Ten’s, the multifaceted asset to Empire’s inner circle who had no set position. He was considered an all-rounder.

You want the passports?

That was Ten’s voice. You furrowed your eyebrows. Passports? Was your father making an escape plan?

Yes, but we won’t be going anywhere. Just throwing them off course to buy us a little more time, your dad replied.

Shit, okay. I’ll talk to Renjun and get on it.

Hearing footsteps, you rushed to hide around the corner and hoped that Ten wouldn’t walk in that direction. To your fortune, he didn’t.

You blew out a sigh of relief. You had avoided being caught by Ten, but you were unsatisfied by your findings and the briefness of the conversation you’d managed to pick up on. The only way you could satisfy your hunger for information was if you went to Renjun’s office and resumed your eavesdropping from there. Eager and blinded by greed, you looked both ways and then made a run for it.

The lights were off and the door was shut when you got there, and not a sound came from inside the office. No shuffling noises or hushed mumbles. That only meant one thing - no one was there. Either Ten wasn’t meeting up with Renjun immediately or they were talking someplace else. If the latter was true, chances were you had already missed crucial information.

You sighed again and prepared to retreat to your room. At least you didn’t come up completely short of new details. You knew that your father was apparently attempting to fake a getaway, that much you could tell, but were the Serpents that gullible? And what exactly was he trying to buy time for? Did he have a plan? Nothing made sense anymore and it was stressing you out far beyond belief. It seemed like the more you knew, the less you figured out, and that was effectively defeating the purpose of your thirsty hunt.

You turned around and bumped straight into a chest. Looking up, you had a realization that made you wish the floor would swallow you whole.

It was Yuta’s.

His eyes widened and he stared at you, shooting bullets into your skin with his gaze alone. He whisper-yelled, “The hell are you doing here?”

Dammit, you swore under your breath. Your heart raced and you were starting to regret all of the prying that you’d done today. Yuta must’ve recently left his meeting. The room it was held in wasn’t far from where you were, although you thought that you’d have longer before it ended. It was possible that you simply lost track of time or that it ended early, but it wouldn’t be long before he put you under hyper-surveillance.

“What does it look like?” You grumbled. There was no point in lying to him. There was nothing convincing that you could tell him and even if there was, Yuta could see straight through you like you were glass.

“Curiosity killed the cat,” he warned.

You finished the quote. “But satisfaction brought it back.”

Yuta sighed and poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Let’s go back to your room.”

You could tell there was more that he wanted to say, but arguing with you in the corridors when you were at extreme risk of getting caught was unwise. He settled for walking you back to your room, holding you close to his chest in spite of it being clear he wasn’t happy with you.

Halfway to your destination, you heard a woman shriek.

You pauses dead in your tracks, forcing Yuta to freeze with you. “What the…?”

“Go back to your room,” Yuta commanded.

Your response was physical. Face disbelieving as your brows furrowed and your eyes rounded. The shriek was terror-stricken, you knew the sound of fear when you heard it. It surrounded you ever since you could breathe. You needed to know what was going on, what was happening so close by yet felt almost worlds away.

“Go,” he said again, his cold, sharp eyes piercing into your skin. If you didn’t know him, you would have been scared. But as intimidating as he could seem from the outside, Yuta was mush in the interior. He just wanted to keep you safe. “And don’t even damn think about sneaking around.”

That time you obliged. You headed straight to your room and took no detours. You knew it was too risky and hoped that whatever happened wasn’t too dangerous. That Yuta would return in one piece and tell you what happened.

Thankfully, he did.

“So?” you said when he came back to your room roughly half an hour later.

“Maid found the corpse of a guard,” Yuta sighed as he sat beside you. “Not that sure yet, but the cause of death looked like it was an untreated venomous snakebite.”

“Not that sure?”

Yuta exhaled again. You wondered what he knew that made him seem so stressed. “The words ‘we are your shadow’ were painted onto the wall in his blood.”

Your blood ran cold. “The…”

“The Serpents killed him, yeah,” he grumbled.

The blood writing on the wall might have been laughable if it weren’t for the circumstances you were currently facing. Nothing was funny when you weren’t sure how much longer you would be breathing, or just how safe your surroundings really were. Their plan was to make you feel a false sense of security. Today was another warning. A message. They were close. Closer than you could have ever imagined. They were too deep inside and there was no escape.

You were beginning to think that flying out of the the city or even the country might have been your safest option. Even the place you considered home was dangerous. If a fatal incident happened only moments ago just down the hall, you were scared to wonder exactly how close the wrong people had ever been to you.

“They’re here,” you said in terror. “They’re inside the headquarters, and we don’t know where or who or when they’ll…,”

“Baby,” Yuta tried to interject, but to no avail.

“No! They’re deeper inside than we think they are and there’s only a matter of time until…,”

Yuta kissed you - deep and hard. Your body responded instantly, kissing him back and letting him guide you. You let him cup your face and your fingers thread through his locks, an unconscious part of you wanting to feel him as deeply as the limits would allow you too. Whenever he kissed you, his body easily won over yours. You were too weak for him. It took nothing for you to melt into his touch or the softness of his lips.

He pulled away some moments later and let you catch your breath. “Sorry baby, but I needed you to calm down. I know this shit’s scary, but you gotta be rational and think about what it means.”

“I don’t think I even wanna know what this shit means,” you whispered.

Yuta frowned. It broke his heart to see you this way. He wanted to take all your worries and fears away and lock them away. He hated seeing this slowly defeating even you, the most obstinate and iron-willed woman he knew. There was nothing he anticipated more than the moment that this chase would finally be coming to an end.

Suddenly the door opened and your father poked his head throughout the doorway. “Hurry up and pack, we’re leaving. Nakamoto, escort her out when she’s finished.”

He was gone as quickly as he came. You stared at Yuta lostly. Where were you going? And most importantly, would you be any safer from the Serpent’s there?

“You know it’s not safe to stay here. He’s making a run to more obscure territory,” Yuta stated as if he could read your mind. Sometimes, you felt like he could. “And before you ask - I don’t know if it’ll keep them away, but it’s not easy access. No one will be there but you, him, the inner circle, their personal bodyguards’, and me. So no one can get bought off.” 

That was almost comforting. Being around people you deemed trustworthy, instead of countless people who could have been standing in the middle of the road for all anyone knew, seemed like the most liberating and obvious option. Maybe it would keep you alive if even just a little longer. Maybe it would give your father’s unspoken plan the push it needed to finally get in motion before it was too late. You hated not knowing. You hated having to rely on a maybe, but that was all you had. The little sparks of hope inside you were what was giving you the energy to push forward. It was better than a definite no.

Yuta insisted on helping you pack everything you needed - Clothes, books, and a few other items. In under fifteen minutes you were snuck out the backsides of the perimeter, and ushered into one of the cars.

As the vehicle set into motion, the pads of your fingers pressed against the window and you gazed longingly out the glass. From the moment you were born, this was the sole place that you’d known to be home. Every night of your life had been spent under the same room and in between the same walls. Now you weren’t sure if it would ever feel like home to you again.

The ride was long and you knew none of the roads the vehicle turnt on. If anyone were to be following you, you were certain that they’d become lost from all the abrupt changes in direction that were made. You finally pulled up to a secluded house. It was isolated and lowkey, and appeared to be an ideal safe house.

Yuta helped you out of the vehicle and carried your belongings inside. From the front door to the room you’d claim as yours for the meantime, the house seemed well-kept. It was probably one of the various operating grounds for Empire henchmen.

“Alright, head up to your room. I have something to discuss with the boys,” your father said, dismissing you to your room.

You gaped in disbelief. There was no way he was shunning you to your room at a time like this. It was all that he’d ever done, but at least before you’d have a little roaming freedom - drowning yourself in books in the library or helping the maids tend to the gardens. From the business parties he’d throw weekly to even being allowed to eat in the dining hall instead of having your meals brought up to you. After the news about the Serpents broke out all that had changed, but you thought it was to keep you safe. Now that you were surrounded by confirmed non-threats however, you saw clearly that wasn’t the case.

You rebelled, “I want to stay.”

It would be a lie to say that you never had been rebellious. Your father was strict, but you were stubborn and never took no for an answer. The only thing was that you’d never defied him to his face. Fear constricted your chest but you were hell-bent on standing your ground. You were a grown woman, for fucks sake. A grown woman who had her whole life at stake.

Your father glared but kept calm. “Don’t be difficult, darling. Just do as you’re told.”

“Why? This is about me just as much as it is the rest of you!” you countered, glancing around for backup. You met Ten’s eyes, then Renjun’s, both filled to the brim with pity. Yet neither of them said anything and you felt stupid for thinking that they would. Who in their right mind would stand up to anyone as conceited as your father?

Only you. Only you were bold enough to go against his commands, but maybe that was because you didn’t yet know the extent of what he was willing to do to his own blood.

Before you could even blink, he grabbed his switchblade from his holster and hurled it in your direction. The blade narrowly missed you, but knowing that that was intentional made your stomach churn. He was trying to scare you - and it was working.

“Go to your motherfucking room,” he hissed. “And don’t make me tell you again.”

That time, you obliged him. With widened eyes, you hurried up the stairs, tears threatening to fall but you wouldn’t let them. Not until you were alone.

When the door was shut and your back was against it, you finally let out your first sob. You couldn’t believe what had just happened. It was so sudden. Your father had nearly injured you at very least. He was a skilled knife-thrower and always carried them on him, but you never had any reason to fear him up until now. Never in your twenty-something years had he ever attempted to physically harm you, yet now he had with the intention of scaring you into compliance.

You weren’t sure what scared you more; the fact that he could have easily harmed you if he wanted to, or that something so trivial urged him to behave this way. Maybe you were wrong. Maybe this was something bigger and you were the only one who didn’t see that - but if that were true, it only fortified your desire to know exactly what was being kept from you. And why.

Spotting your duffle bag on your bed, you got up and rummaged through it in search of one particular item. You found a small, rectangular box and opened it, clutching a silver necklace as soon as the box clamped open and placing it on.

It was your mother’s. She passed shortly after you were born, maybe some months later. You hardly knew her. You had no photographs of her and your father never mentioned her even when you used to beg for him to tell you about her, to the point where you eventually stopped asking. The necklace was the only memory you had of her.

Sometimes you wished she was still with you. Maybe life would be a little easier. Maybe you’d feel a little less alone. Now more than ever, you wished she was by your side. Maybe you’d have someone to guide you and tell you the answers to everything you didn’t know, to point you in the right direction. But most of all, you wanted her love and comfort. You wanted her to hold you and tell you that everything would be okay.

Maybe then, you’d believe it.

Suddenly a knock sounded from the door and you jolted in surprise. “Who is it?” you asked weakly.

“Your favorite,” Yuta sang from the other side of the door. For a second, you smiled. Yuta’s voice alone was soothing. “May I come in?”

“Go ahead.”

Yuta walked inside, shutting the door behind himself. He frowned at the sight of you, eyes red and cheeks tear-stained. You looked almost as small as you felt. There was nothing Yuta despised more than seeing you so overcome by your emotions - it made him bristle with anger, wishing there was something he could do to permanently remove your pain.

You fiddled with your necklace and once Yuta noticed it, he sighed sadly. “Oh, baby…,”

“I miss her,” you smiled through your tears. “I miss her and I never even knew her.”

That was all it took for Yuta to walk over and pull you into a hug. You sobbed into his shoulder and he rubbed your back, soothing you. Yuta was the only one that you had ever opened up to about your problems, and especially the ones regarding your mother. He knew how incomplete you felt without having a mother figure present in your life.

With Yuta, you felt bare and exposed. Stripped naked of your facades and down to your rawest, truest emotions. There was nothing you could hide from him, no mask you could put on because he could effortlessly see dead through you. He could read you like an open book, but never judged any line. That was why you had no issues with being vulnerable in front of him. He had seen you at your lowest moments and yet still Yuta embraced you nonetheless.

That was when you realized something. Yuta was more than just your bodyguard. He guarded your mind, soul, heart and body. He fought off the dragons of your mind with a sword. Without him you’d be nothing but a damsel in distress.

“Please don’t leave me,” you begged softly. Not like she did. “I need you.”

Yuta wiped the tears from your face. “I’ll never ever leave you, princess. You’ll always have me.”

All you could do was pray that that was true. As much as you hated to think about it, Yuta’s life was just as on the line as yours. He was an obstacle to the Serpents, and it went without a doubt that they would tear down anything in their course to get to your family. Knowing Yuta, he wouldn’t let anyone hurt you without getting through him first. He was willing to sacrifice himself if it meant you had a chance.

After a while you cooled down and decided to pull yourself together. You were still shaken up from what had happened, but refused to let it get in the way of what was important—predicting the Serpent’s next move. And Yuta was more than willing to help you.

“What did you say was written on the wall again?”

“‘We are your shadow’,” Yuta recalled gloomily. “The message’s obvious. They’re watching.”

No shit. The snake bite was the unneeded confirmation that the murder was their doing, but the message was what they were trying to convey. Four silly words had never unnerved you this awfully.

“Fucking hell,” you sighed. “Shadows follow you everywhere you go like footprints.”

Yuta made a face. “You think they know that we’re here?”

“I think that if they don’t know yet, then it likely won’t be long before they do.”

“That’s what I thought, but your dad isn’t intent on switching locations. He says we’re staying here until further notice,” he answered, and you furrowed your brows. Sometimes your father could be a little too vain to notice the flaws in his reasoning - and god forbid anyone pointed them out to his face - but you wanted to trust he wouldn’t do anything too out of line.

Now though, your trust in him was wavering.

After a moment of silence and internally debating if you should keep your knowledge to yourself, you began quietly, “I overheard my dad talking with Ten earlier. When I snuck out.”

Yuta shot you a curious look, urging you on with his face. “Mm-hm.”

“They brought up passports. Dad said that we wouldn’t be going anywhere, though. Throwing the Serpents off course and mentioning something about buying more time. I think he’s faking a getaway.”

Yuta reacted like he was completely unaware of that information, and there lied your ulterior motive in mentioning what you overheard. Yuta was updated on everything, almost as if he knew events before they occurred sometimes. He was knowledgeable and smart, and predicted certain circumstances like no other. For him to have absolutely no clue what your father was planning was somewhat alarming.

It was no surprise to hear that information was to be held strictly between the inner circle or high-ranking members as they were the center of power and influenced overall movement, but cohesion was still significant - especially between the most directly affected people. There needed to be a clear plan in case of sudden emergency. Worst of all, you couldn’t even be sure that the entire inner circle was aware. Only Ten, Renjun, and your father could be confirmed.

“Well, if he plans to act on that idea soon that would explain the lack of urgency,” Yuta murmured, “but there’s no telling. And what is he buying time for exactly?”

“That’s where I keep getting lost. I don’t know what the hell he’s trying to do and it’s scary,” you leaned back against your sheets and sighed.

Nothing was making sense. And you didn’t want to be five seconds from the click of a trigger by the time it finally did. You couldn’t even imagine what would happen to you or the people around you if you dug deeper, though.

It was like you were being cornered - by your father’s intimidation, by your reckless curiosity, by death - and given no choice but to succumb. There was no light at the end of the tunnel.

“Get some rest,” Yuta said after a while, noticing how the more the gears in your head ticked, the more it killed you. “We’ll talk again tomorrow. Promise me you’ll try to sleep.”

You nodded your head. “Okay,” you smiled and slid underneath the covers.

Yuta pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Goodnight, baby.”

Your heart fluttered. You wanted nothing more than for him to slip beside you and stay for the night, but you understood it was too risky, and his night didn’t quite end when yours did.

“Goodnight, Yuta,” you whispered.

He smiled. Then the lights flickered off, and you heard the door open and shut.

You didn’t sleep a wink.

It wasn’t like you didn’t want to keep your word to Yuta, but even after you said goodnight you still couldn’t power your brain off - electricity was always flowing, gears were always turning. There was something else troubling you. Yuta had said that you’d talk again tomorrow, but that was exactly what worried you. The Serpent’s warnings had been consecutive. The very first night, today, and tomorrow was a high possibility.

Who was to say that tomorrow would be any different? Who was to say that the Serpent’s had any mercy leftover? It was already well-established that the warnings would only become worse the more they were ignored, but what if the Empire had blown all chances at making things easy?

They had left the ball in the Empire’s court; now it was in theirs.

The tomorrow you had so terribly dreaded had become today. A knock from the bedroom door startled you, and you asked softly, “Who’s there?”

“Ten,” the voice said, then the door opened slightly and Ten peaked through the crack. “Hey. Your dad told me to let you know that we’re leaving for a little while. Nakamoto’s downstairs, he’s going to stay and watch over you.”

That suddenly made you feel cold. You were scared shitless of being alone, but you guessed you weren’t alone with Yuta around. Still, it didn’t help to think about a sudden ambush while everyone else was away. You were two to however fucking many people they’d send. You would be no match for them.

And more than anything, you needed Yuta safe.

Feigning indifference, you said coolly, “Alright.”

You had a feeling Ten could tell you were putting on a front, but he didn’t press the matter. There was nothing he could have done.

“And y/n?”

You murmured, “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry about yesterday. I know you’re probably shaken up about it. I didn’t think he’d act like that to you.”

You chuckled tonelessly. “Me neither.”

Ten flashed you a thin smile. There was more that he wanted to say and you could tell, but you also figured the second half of his message wasn’t supposed to happen. He was in a time crunch.

“Be safe,” you whispered before he could say anything else.

Ten nodded. “You as well.”

Then he disappeared.

Figuring you needed to de-stress, you opted for taking a long, hot shower. You hoped desperately that it would wash away all the apprehensions plaguing your mind in the meantime.

When you got out, you felt better. There was no doubt that you’d still need coffee to help with the fact that you’d pulled an all-nighter, but at least you felt refreshed and that was enough to help you carry on. Some moments after you finally collapsed back on your bed, you heard buzzing from your nightstand.

Your phone. It was provided in case of a crisis and if anyone needed to reach you, but that was why you were worried. If there was nothing wrong, why would they need to tell me something now? They never needed you.

Nonetheless, you picked up the phone, noticing the caller ID was Renjun’s. “Hello?”

“Where’s Nakamoto?”

You blinked in surprise. Maybe it was nothing. But doesn’t Yuta have his own phone? Then, you realized that you hadn’t heard from nor seen Yuta all morning. Usually he’d greet you after you’d woke up, check on you and stay with you. You had figured he was downstairs keeping guard, though now you were worried about him.

“Dunno, I haven’t seen him. I figured he was downstairs playing watchdog,” you answered, eyebrows furrowing. “Why?”

Renjun ignored your question and commanded, “Look in the closet and get the gun.”

“What?”

“Just do it,” he hissed.

Phone pressed to your ear, you stepped towards the closet and rummaged through in search of a firearm. You found it and swiftly checked to see if it was loaded. It was.

“Found it,” you announced.

“You remember how to use one, right?”

The realization that you would possibly have to use one alarmed you, but you confirmed in a little voice, “Y-yeah.” You were probably in your early teens when you learned how to use a gun. You might have been sheltered, but you knew the underworld in and out, and especially how to survive inside it.

That was what people had most often misunderstood about you. They doubted your knowledge and capabilities. They doubted you. You realized that even people you trusted didn’t believe in you. Inside, you knew a good chunk of it was because you were a woman in a man’s world, but you’d be damned if you let that mean you were any less capable.

“Good. Now lock the door,” Renjun said sternly.

“What? But what about Yuta?”

Renjun’s surroundings grew louder and you could suddenly hear all the action in the background, loud yelling and gunshots filling your ears. It sounded like a bloodbath was ongoing and you were scared half to death.

“Listen to me carefully because I don’t have that much time,” he began, voice colder than you’d ever heard it - and his tone was always icy. “Don’t trust Nakamoto. He’s not who he says he is.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You asked in bitter confusion.

Renjun snarled, “Fucking listen to me. He’s the Vip—”

His sentence was abruptly interrupted and by the sound of his phone dropping to the ground and his screams, you knew it was because he had been attacked. Your blood ran cold.

Then, the door opened and you wasted no time to aim the gun in its direction.

There stood Yuta - and he didn’t even flinch when you pointed the gun at him.

“Yes, I am the Viper,” he announced, smiling as menacingly as he could. “What a shame Renjun ruined the surprise.”

“Step back,” you warned, trying to hold the gun as firmly as you could, but your hands were trembling. Yuta - the one you had trusted with your heart, mind, soul and body - was the same person trying to tear you down.

It took everything within you not to break down right then. You could feel your heart wrench, then shatter into pieces. How could he sit there watching and listening to you fear for your life knowing damn well he was the exact thing you were trying to escape?

“Oh, please. We both know damn well you can’t shoot me, baby,” Yuta scoffed.

You glared. “Shut up. You don’t know me.”

Yuta didn’t listen. He was on a mission to make you explode and knew exactly what buttons to press. “I do know you. I know that you could never ever shoot me. You love me too much. You would only be planting a bullet in your own heart.”

“You’re wrong!” you screamed.

“Do it, then, I fucking dare you!” Yuta yelled back, louder. He stepped closer, intentionally leaving himself open. “I said, shoot me. Pull the motherfucking trigger, baby.”

Your mind was chanting for you to do exactly as he was saying, but your heart was screaming for you to do the opposite. It should have been easy. You should have had the upper hand here. You had a loaded gun and he was unarmed. The only problem was that Yuta was right. You didn’t have it in you to shoot him because you loved him. Frankly, you were in love with him.

And that was your weakness. As deadly and venomous as he was, Yuta was your vice. You unloaded the gun and threw it to the floor, tears beginning to stream down your cheeks.

Yuta softened when he saw you cry, and pulled you into his chest. When you didn’t fight him, he began to stroke your back the way he knew comforted you. “There, there.”

“I don’t understand,” you whimpered sadly. “I trusted you.”

Yuta’s grip on you tightened. “Do you still trust me?”

You didn’t respond immediately. You of all people should have known the game, you had been studying it all your life, you had become it. Trust was nothing but a ruse and that was exactly what his job entailed - he comforted people into telling him their weakest points and used them to his advantage. And yet still, you knew that he was where you felt safe. “With my life.”

“Then, you know I’m not doing this to hurt you. I’m doing it to protect you,” Yuta cooed gently.

That didn’t make the situation any easier to process. Yuta belonged to the Serpents - the exact same organization that was out for your family’s life. Did that mean that everything you knew was a lie? Then, what was their reason in doing any of this?

You pulled away and questioned, “What’s your motive?”

He shrugged. “Same as you were told. Your father killed our former heiress.”

That meant your father lied.

“Then, you should still be trying to kill me. Not protect me.”

Yuta shook his head. “Like I said, I’ve been doing this to protect you. The target has always been your daddy. He just made the wise decision of assuming we would use you to get to him - or he didn’t want to risk you finding out the truth.”

For the first time, you were getting answers to your questions, and yet you still couldn’t fathom them. It was too much to process all at once and you had barely scraped the surface. But you still needed to know more. You still needed to wrap your head around the enigma.

Another question popped up in your head and you furrowed your brows. “But that doesn’t make sense. Why wouldn’t he want me to know? I’m grown. I’ve lived this life for twenty-two years. I know he kills people. That’s what our life revolves around, that’s what I’m supposed to become when it’s my turn – a coldhearted killer. What would make this any different?”

Yuta pursed his lips. The answer lied at the very tip of his tongue, but he knew this particular secret wasn’t his to tell. “Baby look, a lot of this shit isn’t my place to tell you.”

“What do you mean, not your place?” you blinked in confusion. “Who’s place is it, then?”

Just as Yuta’s lips parted to speak, you jolted when you heard the door creak and an unknown being emerged from the hallways. “It’s time.”

Never had you ever been so confused, and nothing had been making sense for the past three days straight. When you finally gazed back at Yuta for answers, he was eyeing you apologetically.

“Forgive me,” he said finally, and before you could attempt to decipher the situation, you felt a prick in your arm from the opposite side and the color swiftly began to fade from your world.

The last thing you saw was Yuta’s face hovering over you as he held your unconscious body in his arms.

When you finally awoke, your senses came rushing back to you and whiplash struck you deep.

Nothing but the nerve-racking ticking of a clock was audible. The skin surrounding your forearm stung and you felt as though a gigantic hole had ripped agape there. Your vision unblurred steadily and your eyes were met with a dull room.

Where am I, you wondered. It was no place you had ever been - and that was very little. Between your bedroom and the few places from outside that you were familiar with, this was a completely and utterly foreign setting.

Smoke. You smelled smoke.

You sat up and saw a man you didn’t recognize, sitting in a chair with a joint between his fingers and smoke rising from between his lips, thick, white clouds of vapor flowing into the air.

And that was the moment your situation dawned on you.

“You’re awake,” the stranger observed offhandedly.

You ignored his comment. “Who are you?”

It was one of them. You knew that. Out of the six however, there no was no clear indication of who he was specifically.

The stranger only chuckled and took another drag. You noticed his almost fascinated gaze as his eyes bore at the spark of the joint, fire the sole gleam in his dark irises.

“Take a good guess, I’m sure you wouldn’t know,” he said dryly.

Your brows furrowed together in deep thought. You doubted that he was any of the members you had reached solid conclusions on. That would have been the King Cobra or the Python but he didn’t strike you as the leader type, or the Viper, but that was Yuta - oh god, Yuta.

You wondered where he was, or how he could have done that to you. His words to you crawled back in your brain, Forgive me. A part of you knew he was truly sorry, you could see it in his eyes, but another part of you was hesitant in believing anyone or anything.

Then your eyes flickered back to the smoking man on the chair and something clicked. “The Black Mamba,” you murmured, more to yourself than anything. You heard rumors about how the Black Mamba was an arsonist and his favorite weapons were explosives. Allegedly, he even constructed a bomb on his own at the age of ten.

“Oh, save the formalities,” he groaned, feigning annoyance. “Call me Jaemin.”

That gave you a pinch of hope. You weren’t sure if it was just in his character, but you doubted that he’d give you as much as his government name if they planned to kill you.

But then, what exactly was their plan?

“I told you not to play your mind games on her, Jaemin,” reprimanded a familiar voice, and you turned towards the door to see the face of the love of your life.

You rose up. “Yuta!”

Yuta’s head snapped in your direction. He trudged over and pulled you into his embrace, but you grimaced when he dealt too roughly with your aching arm.

“Shit. Sorry about that, baby,” he murmured into your ear. “Snake protocol.”

You stayed like that for a while. There was too much going on. Even if everything you’d known was a lie, you wanted to be in the one place you felt safe for just a moment - Yuta’s arms.

Jaemin fake-coughed. “If you two lovebirds are done, Cobra just texted me and said he wants to meet her.” He added blankly, “Just wanna make sure that’s okay with you guys first.”

You realized three things in that moment - one, you had seen Jaemin before, he was the one with Yuta earlier. Two, he fucking thrived off sarcasm.

And three, you were going to meet The King Cobra.

Panickedly, you stared at Yuta, but he rushed to assure you it would be okay. “Relax, princess. He just wants to give you answers to all those little questions you have. Answers you deserve. You trust me, right?”

“I trust you,” you drawled, even though you knew that you shouldn’t have. Then, you pushed him in the chest and managed to barely shove him. “But I’m mad at you.”

Yuta chortled. “You can be mad at me as much as you want, but rules are rules and I don’t make them. You’ll have to take that up with the motherfucker who does. Let’s go meet him, ey?”

When you finally agreed to meet his boss, you slipped out of the bedroom that you could have only assumed was Jaemin’s and walked into the corridors. Everything about being within the foreign walls of the Serpents’ headquarters made you feel like an outsider, although it did make sense. Technically - as heiress to the rival gang - you were.

Yuta held you firm to his chest, allowing you to loosen up and feel secure in his embrace. It also made you feel untouchable. Wandering henchmen seemed nothing short of frightened by Yuta as he strutted down the halls like he owned the place (technically, he kind of did) with you clinging stubbornly to his side.

The room he brought you to was someone’s office, void of all the hundreds of people pacing down the corridors, yet still not quite empty. Inside, you noticed the presence of two men that you didn’t recognize. Yuta sat across the desk and urged you to do the same.

“Boss,” Yuta greeted the man you both sat directly across from.

Boss. That meant he could have only been one person.

“You brought her,” his boss observed, smiling at you gently. You were half-tempted to smile back. He seemed warm and welcoming, which was totally unexpected for a gang leader.

“Yes, I did. Babe, this is my boss. Or as you know him, the King Cobra,” Yuta introduced, and suddenly the pieces clicked into place.

The man waved. “Hey. I’m the leader, but I know you already know that. Yuta here tells me you’re extremely curious,” he teased. “By the way, you can call me Taeyong.”

You nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“And this is the Python, who, technically, is also my boss, since he outranks me,” said Yuta, gesturing towards the man who stood beside Taeyong. He was slightly taller and unlike Taeyong, had a grim aura. 

“Doyoung,” The Python said plainly. “Taeyong’s right hand.”

You nodded once more, feeling almost obligated to this time. The rumors were true; his presence was suffocating.

Taeyong clapped his hands together and suddenly turned remarkably stern. “Alright, now that we’re done with introductions, let’s talk about the real reason for bringing you here. I know you have lots of questions.”

Too many questions. You still wanted to know why you weren’t six feet under yet, or what would be their next move now that they had you under their belt. Were they going to use you to lure your father in? Then what? Would they dispose of you after you had done their bidding? 

There was an insatiable little cat roaming around in your brain, chasing dangerously after strings of information. Maybe curiosity did kill the cat, but as you’d told Yuta before, satisfaction brought it back.

And you weren’t going to stop until you were dead or satisfied.

He began, “First of all, you are by no means our target. Your father murdered my aunt nearly twenty-two years ago and in spite of his opposing claims, we have sufficient evidence. Witnesses on standby, accomplices forced into silence, proof of payment transactions made continuously throughout the decades to silence them. I made it my mission to stop at nothing to kill whoever was responsible, and two years ago on the twentieth anniversary, I finally determined who.”

There was almost nothing that you could say. You were in disbelief - not that he’d kill someone, but that he’d lie to you about something so normalized in your life. This had to be something deeper than you were being told.

“Why wait two years?”

“We had to plan meticulously,” he said plainly. “We had to get inside before we made a move, close enough to predict your father’s moves before he made them. That was why we decided to involve Yuta.”

Yuta nodded and added, “Two years ago, I was assigned to this mission. We were looking for an opportunity to infiltrate and get close to the inner circle, and just our luck, you needed a new bodyguard. It was also important for me to protect you. We couldn’t risk something happening to you.”

“Why not?” you pressed. You felt like a pawn to their game. “Is there something important about me?”

Silence fell over the room and you blinked in confusion. Everyone else in the room gazed towards Taeyong and you could only find yourself doing the same thing. He looked sullen, and you couldn’t even begin to fathom why.

You were starting to get annoyed. “Well?”

“There’s no easy way of saying this, but I won’t make it anyone else’s responsibility,” he said, wearing a sad smile. “That lady he killed wasn’t just our former heiress. She was your mother.”

You gaped. “What?”

Doyoung spoke up. “Think about it. Why else would he avoid admitting that he killed someone?”

You shook your head and sank into denial. There was no way. Your father had never been the best man and you knew that, but he wouldn’t kill the woman that birthed you. Would he?

“He threw a fucking knife at you,” Yuta reminded. “You think he wouldn’t snap hard enough to kill your mother?”

The memory flooded back in and you began having flashbacks, immersing yourself so deeply back in the moment that you could feel the fear that occupied you then. You remembered your eyes going wide, your chest heaving as you gaped in shock.

It happened so quickly. One moment, you thought that you were harmlessly persuading your father, the next, you heard a knife cutting through the air before you could even fathom what was happening.

“N-no, he—he wouldn’t,” you denied. You shut your eyes as if it would make everything go away, but there was no escape.

“He took her away from you.”

“Stop.”

Yuta didn’t listen. “All those painful years of longing were because of him. He shut you out from the world because he didn’t want to risk having to face you once you finally discovered the truth. Deny it all you want, but you know it’s fucking true. Everything adds up.”

“Yuta, that’s enough,” asserted Taeyong.

Yuta didn’t dare disobey. He softened up the moment he saw your fragile state - tears brimming your eyes as you were forced to face the truth head-on. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but he was right. Everything added up too well, from your father’s mysterious behavior to the exact time of which their heiress and your mother passed. It could have only meant one thing.

You finally received the answers you had long-craved, but they weren’t the ones you were expecting.

“I’m sorry,” Yuta apologized with a frown. “Come here.”

There was no hesitation when you crawled into him and began to sob into his chest. He cradled you gently, the same way he had when he found you crying in your room yesterday.

Life was cruel. You knew that better than anyone else. But now that you knew your own father was responsible for so much of the pain and rupture you had felt deep in your chest, you weren’t certain if you would ever catch a break.

As much as you had wanted to deny his actions, there quickly became a point where it was impossible. And you were no longer in denial. You were in a state of pure, scorching hot rage. All you could feel was anger. And an aching desire for revenge on behalf of your mother.

Taeyong called your name once you had calmed down. “I brought you here because I wanted to make you a deal,” he began, and your eyebrows quirked with interest. “You help us catch him and I’ll make sure you never have to be under the control of that sick son of a bitch ever again.”

It didn’t take any convincing at all. You were already certain of what you wanted to do when he asked you the question. “Sounds like a pl…,” you trailed off as you realized something. “Wait. You said that my mother was your aunt, right?”

He nodded and you gawked.

“That means you’re—”

“Yes. I’m your cousin. I was waiting for you to realize,” Taeyong chortled.

How fucking ironic. The two rival gangs were family. And you were too blinded by emotion to even realize. No wonder this meant so much to him.

On the other end, you were delighted. You were certain you had no real blood family past your father and life was lonely. Instead of the dread you had been feeling for the past few days, you couldn’t wait to end this once and for all and meet the endless opportunities that awaited you. A happy ending was in arms reach. 

Whatever you could do to clutch it sooner, you wanted to know. You would do almost anything.

You had lost all empathy for your father. No wonder he shunned you to your room all the time. He was hiding how truly ugly he was inside. “I’m game if you all are, but what’s the move? How do you plan on getting him?”

“Straight to business,” Taeyong teased. “Don’t worry. I’m sure he and his team have arrived back at that little hideout of yours and know you’re missing. He’s going to want you back and knows that to obtain you, he’s going to have to reach us. We’re going to arrange a meeting. He’ll be trapped in with nowhere to run.”

You squinted, skeptical. “My father’s somewhat rash when it comes to dealing with other people, but he knows that meeting you would be like handing his life to the palms of his killer. He would either not agree or plan an escape.”

“Yes, but we still have an advantage.”

“What advantage?”

Taeyong grinned wryly. “A special asset.”

His vague response puzzled you, but you slapped your hand over your face and began to rub your temple. “I need a nap.”

Yuta sighed blithely. “It has been a long day.”

“And the next ones are going to be even longer,” Taeyong said stoically. You were already beginning to take a liking to him. He was good-natured, but knew exactly when to be serious and could turn on a dime. “Yuta, you may take her to your room for the evening. We’ll regroup in the morning and establish how to proceed.”

Everyone bid one another goodnight and Yuta led you back to the residency corridor. You passed a couple of men on your way towards his room, although the clear restriction of access within the area and unafraid glances they casted your direction suggested that they weren’t henchmen. They were Serpents.

“Are you okay?” Yuta asked when you flopped down on his bed. He snuggled beside you like a puppy and you smiled softly.

“I’m a lot of things right now,” you whispered somberly. “Not sure if okay is one of them.”

Glancing around his room was oddly comforting. Although it was dull-toned, it felt vibrant and full of life – pictures of him, his family, and friends adorned his nightstand and posters decorated his wall. It felt like Yuta. Not the strong wall he put up whenever he worked, but the Yuta who was utterly unafraid to be vulnerable.

“Mm,” he hummed in response, arms wrapped around your waist and his lips leaning into your ear. “Is there any way I can cheer you up?”

You drawled, “I can think of one.”

“So can I,” Yuta leaned over your face, lips just barely avoiding yours. “Care to enlighten me?”

Every inch of your body was aflame with anticipation. You couldn’t help but stare at his lips, desperately wishing that he would stop teasing you and press them against yours.

“Yuta.”

“Hm?”

“Kiss me.”

Yuta grinned smugly then gave in, finally meeting your lips in a blissful kiss. Your hands reached for his long, auburn locks of hair, and you let his lips guide you to a brand new world, momentarily detaching yourself from reality.

And the night passed like that, with Yuta’s mouth on yours - and your body.

You strutted into the conference room brimming with energy. For the first time in what felt like ages, sleep came to you easy. One night with Yuta had relieved you of a week’s worth of stress.

That meant that you could focus on what was crucial, feeling nothing but passionate anger and determination. You were going to put an end to your decades of suffering - once and for all.

The table was nearly full when you and Yuta arrived. Taeyong took his rightful spot at the head of the table, Doyoung sat to his left, and a file box stole the spot on his right. The rest of the seats were occupied by Jaemin and faces you couldn’t put names to, but you recognized them as the pair you’d spotted in the halls yesterday.

You followed Yuta to the table, sandwiched directly between him and Jaemin.

“Are we late?” Yuta asked with a wry grin. 

“No, the rest of us are simply early,” Taeyong deadpanned, then began, “Good morning everyone. I’m sure that you have all taken notice of the fresh face at the table, and I’m aware that some of you are also fresh faces to her. For that reason, I would like to ask you both to each do short introductions. Please try to be as brief as possible, thank you.”

The inner circle members you were unfamiliar with each gave their name and aliases. The pink-haired man across from you was The Boa, and his name was Haechan. Beside him was The Copperhead, a Mark Lee. They deliberately didn’t disclose their roles, you were smart enough to figure that out. The hacker and the treasurer.

When they concluded, Taeyong continued, “With that out of the way, I would like to clarify our next move. Last night, your father accepted our offer to meet. The terms of the agreement were that if he turned himself in we would, in return, give you back unharmed, though obviously he knows we’ll blow his brains the second we get a chance, and your father doesn’t exactly strike me as the type willing to go out without a bang.”

Doyoung added, “In other words, as long as he’s aware that it’s a trap he’s going to devise a plan in order to escape, and we have to be prepared for whatever adversities that may possibly surface.”

Taeyong nodded, then asked, “Any word from The Sphinx, Haechan?”

“You were right-on about this guy not wanting to go out without a bang, Boss. Literally. I got off the phone with The Sphinx this morning and he says her father’s sending his goons in then blowing the whole damn place up,” Haechan chirped back quickly.

Jaemin grinned wickedly. “Sounds like fun.”

“Sounds like a suicide mission,” Mark corrected, scowling.

“Yeah, well, it’s not. Sphinx made it clear the man has one goal in mind, and that’s getting him and his daughter out alive,” Haechan said matter-of-factly. You barely caught his gaze, it lasted a total of half one single second.

Your face scrunched up in confusion. Who the hell is The Sphinx?

Doyoung mused, “How does he plan on escaping? Is he familiar with any alternative routes? It’s our territory we’re meeting on. He has to know we have eyes everywhere out there.”

“But everyone will be distracted attempting to survive. We’re not going to let ourselves die trying to kill him,” Mark said thoughtfully. “It’s his men versus ours — there’s gonna be a bloodbath.”

That sent a shiver down your spine. You weren’t sure if you were visibly agitated, but Yuta immediately began to soothe you and rub your back with his palm. Maybe he could simply feel it. You glanced at him and smiled.

“Then I hope you’re all ready to die,” Taeyong drawled. “Or at least unafraid to get your hands bloody. We leave at six - be prepared.”

By the time that six had rolled around, you were already standing inside the building. It was off the map, clearly abandoned and repurposed into criminal territory.

In the time that it took for everyone else to prepare, you were already armored up and ready to play the role of the frightened abducted daughter, but there was something troubling you - questions. What if everything didn’t go according to plan? Or what if your father somehow managed to escape in the end?

He wasn’t dumb, he knew that the best time to run off with you was when everyone would be too caught up in surviving. It was every man for themself - kill or be killed.

Yuta came up from behind and wrapped his arms around your waist. He nudged his chin on your shoulder. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Just a little worried,” you admitted quietly. If he were anyone else you would have sucked it up, but Yuta had a way with effortlessly coaxing answers from you. That was what he did. “I don’t wanna go back. I’ve been more free in the past twenty-four hours than I have in the past twenty-two years of my life. I can’t go back.”

“And you won’t,” Yuta assured, cooing in your ear. “I’ll make sure of it, baby. We’ll catch him and you’ll never have to go back there again.”

You whispered, “Promise?”

Yuta whirled you around and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. “I swear with my life.”

“I should blow both of your brain’s.”

Startled, you jolted and turned to see Doyoung staring - glaring at you both. If looks could kill, you would be six feet under. You clung to Yuta’s side who snook an arm around your waist. Doyoung had an aura that could make you regret doing as much as looking at him wrong.

“Gather around. Taeyong wants to give the plan,” Doyoung commanded icily. Then he turned around and walked towards the team even quicker than he had came and delivered the message.

He was a force to be reckoned with.

Taking notice of the look on your face, Yuta merely chuckled and kissed you one last time to soothe you. “Baby, don’t mind Doyoung. Most people are scared of him because he’s stern and ruthless on the job, but otherwise he’s a pretty decent guy. He likes the reactions, I’m convinced he gets off on that shit - just don’t give him one and he’ll warm up.”

In response, you nodded. Yuta gave you the exact reaffirmation that you needed to do this. Whatever reluctance you had left was drained the second you reminded yourself of all the terrible things your father had done to your family. You wanted him to pay. “Let’s go,” you said, gesturing towards the team. There was only one thing on your mind and that was vengeance.

Taeyong spoke when everyone finally gathered around the table, “Before Empire and their leader get here, I want to address exactly what the fuck is gonna happen. As we confirmed earlier, he’s blowing the place up. Jaemin is going to locate and defuse the bomb with the assistance of The Sphinx. Yuta, you stand with her by the back door and get her the fuck out of here the second anything goes wrong,” he said assertively. “And trust me, shit is gonna go wrong. Any objections?”

Jaemin raised his hand.

“Jaemin, if it’s some bullshit, I’ll kill you.”

He put his hand back down and you muffled a snicker.

Everyone got into place. You, Jaemin, and Yuta waited by the back door for immediate escape once it was time. Doyoung and Taeyong stood bravely behind the table. The rest of the team weren’t present - they waited outdoors ensuring the getaway cars were ready.

And The Sphinx. You had no idea who he was, but you were practically afraid to ask.

When the front doors opened, you sucked in an audibly deep breath. Two brawny men brought your father inside and kneeled him before the table, but his eyes were searching for you. When he found you, you could see anger in them.

Wishing you could hold Yuta’s hand, you sighed. It was too risk under the circumstances. Then, you remembered the necklace around your throat and held it for good luck. This is for you, Mom.

Taeyong greeted, “Hello, uncle.”

Your father scowled. “We are in no relation for you to call me that.”

“Really? Because I think you knew my aunt very well,” Taeyong furrowed his brows mockingly.

Although your father was clearly bristling with anger, he said nothing and decided to change the topic. “Give me back my daughter.”

“Why?” Taeyong tilted his head. He was playing a dangerous game, but he knew that he would be the winner. “So that you can neglect and abuse her like you did my aunt? You know what the rules were; you present yourself to us and we would return your daughter back home safely.”

“I did nothing to your aunt!” your father shouted and you nearly flinched.

“Oh, yeah? Doyoung, bring me the diary.”

Your father’s eyes widened, anger still present on his face, and you could tell the same question was playing in his head. What diary?

Doyoung handed Taeyong a book and he flipped hastily through the pages. “Hm, which one should I read…,” he pretended to muse. “Oh, this one looks interesting. ‘December 20th, 1999. Today, for the first time, I was scared for my life of the man I had never feared and who had vowed to never hurt me. I told him we were having a baby girl today. He threw a knife at me. It missed me just barely, but I was frightened to tears. I couldn’t even move until he began trudging towards me, and then I ran for my life and my baby girl’s. I knew he wanted a boy, but I never expected him to behave so hazardously.’ Remember that?”

As those words left his mouth, you could visualize every sentence. You had partially lived the experience. You clenched your fists - there was no more sadness in your body, only white-hot rage. The same behaviors he had held around your mother, he had begun to unleash onto you and you couldn’t even begin to imagine everything that she’d gone through.

“No,” your father answered through gritted teeth.

Liar. He was a lying piece of shit.

“Then, let me refresh your memory some more. This was the day that you murdered her…”

Your father interjected, “I murdered no one!”

“‘July 6th, 2000. He’s going to kill me. I know he is. There’s nothing I can do now besides pray that he takes care of our sweet baby girl and that someone finds this. I want her to read this and know exactly how much I love her. She’s the best thing that has ever happened to me. I pray she finds someone to love her as much as I do. I’m sorry, my love. I’m so sorry.’”

You burst into angry tears. You were mad and this was being too drawn out - someone needed to put a bullet through his head.

“Stop,” he said, looking at your teary eyes and knowing he had blown all chances of preserving your trust in him.

“No. Your daughter deserves to know what you’ve taken away from her. You’ve deceived her enough. Doyoung, the hard copy, please.”

Doyoung swiftly passed him what you could tell from a distance were printouts. Taeyong continued, “In my hand is a hard copy of payment transactions you’ve made that date back all the way to 2000, just around the time my aunt passed away, until roughly seven years ago when the trail went cold. Fifty-thousand dollars was withdrawn from your account every month over the course of fifteen years.”

Your dad glared. “Your point?”

“At first I thought maybe you resorted to killing them after they got uncooperative, or maybe you finally decided to get smart and pay them in cash,” Taeyong said, taking short strides as he paced back and forth behind the table. “Though with the help of my technology specialist I was able to determine the identities of the people you were sending money to - Shon Seungwan and Bae Joohyun. Do those names ring a bell?”

Your father said nothing, but you could see it all on his face. He was familiar with those names, and so were you.

“They were some of your maids until 2015 when they were replaced, and the database states that very same year as their date of death,” Taeyong smiled grimly. “Here’s my theory. Those women were witnesses or forced accomplices to the murder of my aunt and thus you bought their silence. But fifteen years later, something changed. You didn’t care that you were leaving a trail. No, you couldn’t give less of a damn. You cared about the money. It would have been more convenient for you to simply kill them than continue paying them, am I right?”

Your dad didn’t answer. Instead, he threatened, “My team will be here any moment now. They’ll kill you and your circle. Every single last one of you!”

Taeyong snickered. “Oh, you really have no idea.”

“What, about Nakamoto? Of course I know he’s a snake. I knew that the second your team ambushed us!”

Something overprotective washed over you when he mentioned Yuta, but you fought the urge to make any movements. If you did, you might have abruptly ended Taeyong’s verbal torture.

“Exactly. Can’t you see? We’re always a step ahead. We always have a plan. And this one,” Taeyong grabbed his gun off of the table, grinning to himself. “This one you’ll never see coming.”

“What does that mean?” Your father asked, angrily confused. He raised his voice, “What does that mean!”

Suddenly, the front doors burst open, and the person shouted, “Surprise!”

It was Ten.

The gears in your head started to turn and everything clicked into place. We are your shadow. It meant that they were following your father wherever he went - because they were always there. Yuta was The Viper.

And Ten was The Sphinx. 

Your father spluttered, “What’s going on?”

“Sometimes the things you try your hardest to find are hiding right in plain sight,” Ten sang with a wicked smile.

The sound of a loud, piercing gunshot from the hallways followed by several more directed the attention off of Ten, then all of a sudden the doors burst open and all hell broke loose.

Yuta gripped your arm quickly and urged you outside the door, “Let’s go.”

Jaemin and Ten left right behind you, but they turned on a different hall, most likely heading in what you could have only assumed was the direction of the bomb. Meanwhile, Yuta was trying to quickly yet carefully lead you out of the building. You didn’t just need to evacuate the building - you needed to be far away from it.

Yuta poked his head around the corner of the halls then quickly moved it back in and groaned, “Fuck, they’re everywhere. We’ll be outnumbered.”

Hearing footsteps, you tugged his arm and pulled him inside the room nearby. “In here.”

Quickly he closed the door behind himself and you pulled him away from it. It would have taken nothing for a bullet to fly through the wood and into his skin, and the last thing you needed was another dead loved one.

There was too much happening all at once and you wished someone would have put a bullet through your father’s head while they had a clear shot. As long as he was out there, he was going to look for you. And so was his team and the henchmen they’d brought along, and they’d stop at nothing at all to bring you back.

That meant if getting Yuta’s blood on their hands was what it took, they would do it. And that was too big a risk for you.

“God dammit,” you sighed, hearing bullets flying endlessly outside in the halls. “This is a fucking shoot-out and I know he’s got them covering all of the floors. How do we get out?”

“We have to use extreme caution. It’s not safe to camp around here for too long. Unless we wanna get blown up by that goddamn bomb or have the roof collapse in on us, inevitably we’ll have to go down floor by floor,” Yuta whispered. But you both were on the third floor.

You tried to think of any other options, but he was right. There were windows, but they were too high above the ground to jump from here. Not even a miracle could help you survive the fall.

You frowned. “You’re right. Let’s at least try to reach the second floor, then we can ease down to the first floor.”

Yuta agreed and drew his gun before he opened the door back up. You followed behind him, your own gun raised and making sure to keep a third eye on your surroundings behind you. A sudden ambush was always possible.

The floor was quieter than it was initially and the silence kept you on your toes. It was more frightening than the constant sounds of guns firing. At least when people were shooting you were aware of their presence - anyone could have been sneaking around and you’d have no clue if they were stealthy enough.

It became clear why the floor had grown silent the more you roamed around. There was blatant evidence of a bloodbath lying everywhere - an ungodly amount of bodies sprawled out on the floor and blood painting anything and everything it could reach. You grimaced when your eyes met a pile of corpses. This was the aftermath, and you hoped the team wasn’t involved.

Yuta winced. “This place is gonna reek.”

“They’re going to be cremated,” you mused.

Yuta snorted.

When you finally reached the second floor, you could hear the action a staircase away. There was still no sight of your father or his inner circle, a good thing, although you were still worried. You dreaded a surprise encounter.

One of your father’s henchmen aimed at Yuta before he could even come completely down the stairway. Rather than you having complete control over your body and actions, your next move felt almost instinctive - you had a clear shot and pulled the trigger without a second thought. You’d be damned if you let anyone take him away from you, especially dead in your face.

For a second Yuta seemed shocked, but it was gone in a blink and he sported a proud smile. He praised, “Atta girl.”

It didn’t terrify you that you felt no remorse. That was how deep your love for him went - you’d kill for him, over and over again. And in return, there was no doubt in your bones that he’d do the same for you.

That was your first body.

You knew exactly who you wanted to be your last.

“Yuta!”

You and Yuta both turned when you heard someone call his name. Ten quickly came into vision, gesturing with his hands for you to follow him as swiftly as possible. He led you both to a room and shut the door. There was something wrong. You could see it on his face.

Yuta raised his eyebrow. “What’s wrong? Did Jaemin defuse the bomb?”

“Shh, listen to me. He’s working on it, but that’s not why I called you,” Ten said, then went on to explain, “Taeyong got shot…,”

You interjected with wide eyes, “Taeyong got shot?”

Ten shushed you with a single finger to his lip. “If you’d let me finish, Taeyong got shot in the arm. He’s okay for now but he’s losing blood and Yuta, you’re the only one with medical training. You get what I’m trying to say?”

Yuta nodded, holding back a sigh. “Yeah, I got it. But I can’t leave her alone. I won’t.”

“She won’t be alone,” Ten assured. “She’ll be with me.”

Yuta looked at you hard, searching your eyes for any fear. In the same way, you stared deeply into his eyes and saw nothing but gentle care and passionate adoration. He placed both hands on your shoulders. “Are you okay with this?”

For a split second you considered telling him not to worry about you, but you knew that that wouldn’t have satisfied him. Instead, you nodded and said sweetly, “Ten’s here, I’ll be okay. Go help out your boss, Doc.”

Yuta smiled. You noted to yourself to interrogate him on his medical expertise, but now wasn’t the time nor the place. 

Before he left, you leaned up on the tip of your toes and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “For good luck.”

“Okay, yuck. I’m all for sappy romance but we’re all literally about to die,” Ten grimaced.

You rolled your eyes and sent Yuta off after a long moment of convincing him that you would be okay. He was painfully reluctant, but finally left after Ten gave him directions and promised he’d come back for you.

When he left, you stared dead at Ten, and he felt as though your eyes were accusingly pointing fingers at him.

For the sake of survival, you whisper-yelled, “Who the hell are you, Ten? Is that even your name?”

Ah, that’s what this is about, he thought.

Ten smirked. “It’s one of them. Why do you think they call me The Sphinx?”

You mulled his question over. The Sphinx, completely unrelated to snakes as far as you were aware. Head of human, body of a lion, wings of a falcon. Then it clicked. It represented his several identities.

“Shit, Ten,” you shook your head. “That’s fucking wild. I’m not even going to ask how the hell you managed to pull this shit off.”

“Good, because frankly we don’t have enough time for storytelling. Let’s get the fuck outta here,” he said, and with both of your guns cocked and raised you followed him into the halls.

Same as before, it was eerily silent. All you could hear from this floor was the sound of your heartbeat thudding against your chest. Faint sounds of gunshots came from lower and upper floors but they were too subdued to be anything less than distant.

Only this time, there were less bodies and you were growing suspicious. There was too many people and too much active gunfire for there to be such little leftover.

“Someone’s here,” you whispered to Ten.

Ten nodded in acknowledgment. It was clear on his face he had come to the same conclusion. He gestured with his finger for you to trail behind him onto a different hallway.

“How much longer until the bomb blows?”

“Forty minutes when Jaemin and I got to it. That was,” Ten checked his watch, “eleven minutes ago.”

You had twenty-nine minutes to get out of that building alive.

All of a sudden, you heard a gun fire and knew it wasn’t yours nor Ten’s - because the bullet landed right next to him. Ten turned around promptly and shot in the direction of the fire-er, gunning down one of two Empire henchmen. In a split second you pulled your trigger and the other crashed down to the floor consecutively.

“Fuck, they know,” Ten groaned. He thought for a moment he could get you out safely if they assumed he was still faithful to the gang, though there was no way in hell that they’d attempt to shoot him if that were the case.

“Words spread quickly, huh?”

“Too goddamn quickly.”

What came next happened even faster. The door behind Ten suddenly opened and a hand reached out to grab him by the collar, yanking him inside the room. He yelled and you heard his gun crash to the ground and go off consequently. Your eyes went wide and gun in hand, you rushed inside to rescue him. What you saw made you nauseous.

Not a body, at least not a dead one. It was your father - and he had Ten on his knees execution-style, a gun pointed to his head.

He smiled and mocked, “Surprise.”

“Put the gun down and step away from him,” you ordered, aiming your gun dead at your father. You stood boldly with no fear and spoke with no tremble in your voice. Cold and clipped. 

He quickly retaliated, “Try and shoot me and I’ll take him with me.”

In spite of your father’s threat, Ten remained composed and held a stoic face. It was what you admired most about him - his ability to cling towards a calm attitude when presented with difficult circumstances. But with his life practically being in your hands, you wondered if it was all a facade and if inside he consisted of all the same storms of emotions as you - and most prominent of them all was the roaring fear and dread of the outcome.

Yet the moment you realized that your father had probably come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t making it out alive and instead became intent on dragging everyone else to the grave with him, you immediately began to understand what your options were – and you weren’t going to back down. You had to get him distracted.

You lowered your gun. “Okay.”

Your father arched an eyebrow, as though he hadn’t expected you to comply - at least not easily. “Okay?”

“Okay,” you nodded meekly. “I’m picking my battles wisely. I’m your daughter, I know how powerful you are, Dad. You probably planned this perfectly and have more men waiting in the halls for backup. I don’t have any other choice.”

He chuckled. “Smart girl.”

“But to beg,” you added, ignoring how bitter your words tasted on your tongue. If you wanted Ten alive, you had no other options but to play the role that you were assigned. “Please don’t kill him, Daddy. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

“Darling, have you forgotten? He’s a snake. He’s dead to us now. That bullshit from earlier was a goddamn scheme to get you to do their dirty work for them - they kidnapped you, held you hostage, they lied straight to your face,” your father said.

You bristled inwardly, You’re no better. If it weren’t for the sake of your act you would have given him a piece of your mind, but you knew he would look for cracks in your facade. And you would offer him no such thing.

He continued, “They’re still not trustworthy. Yuta tricked you. Ten tricked you. They tricked both of us. This is about you just as much as it is me - you said that, right?”

Whatever ounce of sympathy that you could have felt for your father would have dissipated in that moment if you had anymore to spare. You knew that he was ego-driven, but using those words to attempt to manipulate you was an unimaginable kind of low.

Tears began to well from your eyes, but they weren’t the ones of sadness you figured he had perceived them to be - they were angry. They were furious and vengeful.

You sniffled and played along, “Yeah. I did. But you were right. I should have listened to you from the beginning.”

“It’s okay, dear,” he smiled, ever so menacingly. “All you got to do is come back home. I’ve already won. I’m going to teach them a lesson by letting them burn to ashes. They won’t…”

Just as he spoke, Ten interjected with his palms and reached above his head to point your father’s arms in another direction. Then, he skillfully snatched the weapon from his hands and disarmed it, leapt up and made a run for it.

By the time your father made a move to react, he was too late. Ten was agile and had already charged halfway across the large room. Meanwhile you had lined the gun up perfectly with his chest, ready to fire.

“Careful,” you warned tauntingly. “That ego of yours is gonna get you killed.”

For half a second, your father simply stared at you. Then, he burst into laughter as if you had cracked some joke. “Please. You don’t have it in you, and if you did, you would have done it by now. You can’t kill me.”

The doors burst open and your head whirled around instantly, and a figure emerged from the hallways. “But I can.”

Taeyong. The King Cobra.

He aimed his gun directly at your father’s head, face still and bold. “And I will.”

Taeyong’s non-dominant arm was wrapped with the fabric of what you could clearly tell was someone’s shirt, you figured to stop the blood loss. He was strong, you had to give him that. He was wounded by a bullet and still stood there as if he had nothing to lose. 

Jaemin came up from behind him, also armed. He sported a smile even more menacing than your father’s. “This is our game, Emperor. We win, you lose. That’s how this shit goes.”

Your father looked around and you could see it in his eyes as he realized there was not one, but three guns being pointed in his direction, that he began to accept defeat. He began to laugh, almost hysterically.

“Fine, you win. Kill me,” he grinned and raised his hands in a surrender. “But I also have a plan, and you’ll also never see it comi—”

The sound of several gunshots echoed throughout the room and made your ears feel as if they could bleed.

The nauseating sight of your father’s corpse laid only feet before you, and you didn’t need to turn around to know that it could have only been Taeyong that pulled the trigger. He stared coldly for a moment, gaze hard and unfaltering. Then, he turned around and headed out the doors.

“Damn,” Jaemin grinned. “Guess he really did go out with a bang.”

Your eyes were trained to the scene in front of you, but you could practically hear Ten roll his eyes as he said, “Not the time, Jaemin.”

Jaemin merely laughed and tailed behind Taeyong, mentioning something about the bomb being taken care of and that it was time to leave, but you were frozen in place. A foreign feeling had washed over you and you couldn’t identify what it was.

Ten walked to your side and patted your back. “Hey, he’s gone. He’s dead.” 

Dead. As in gone and he wasn’t coming back. That was when you could feel the invisible weight fly from your shoulders, the ease settle in your body, and you finally realized what that feeling was. It wasn’t shock, it wasn’t grief, it wasn’t pain nor sorrow - it was relief.

He couldn’t hurt you anymore.

You nodded. It was over. After twenty-two years, you were finally free. So was your mom. You began to clutch your necklace, but your eyebrows furrowed in confusion when you noticed that it wasn’t around your neck. Then, you looked around and noticed it wasn’t on the floor.

Ten gave you a confused look. “What’s wrong?”

“My necklace,” you fretted, “It’s not…,”

Ten raised his finger to his lip and glanced around the room concentratedly. You blinked in confusion but said nothing else.

“You hear that?” he asked.

Your lips parted to say no, but then you finally heard it - ticking. But there was no clock in the room and Ten’s watch made no noise. You watched as Ten crouched down to your father’s corpse and grabbed the switchblade from his holster. He walked towards the opposite end of the room and before you could ask what he was doing, he began to tear up the floorboard.

When he finally pulled away the plywood, you saw something red flickering in his widened eyes.

There was another bomb.

“Go,” Ten ordered, pulling out his phone and dialing a number. “Turn right, head down the hall and there’s a staircase. Run and don’t fucking stop until you’re in one of the cars.”

You wanted to hesitate, but the look Ten shot you then was commanding. You did as he said and began to run down the hallway, feet smashing against the floor nearly as fast as your heart raced inside your chest.

The last words of your father began to replay in your head like a mantra, But I also have a plan, and you’ll also never see it comi— then he was cut off by a gunshot. Realization dawned upon you quickly. He was talking about the bomb and you had completely missed it. That explained why he gave in the way that he did.

You began to wonder where everyone was. Mark and Haechan were safe in the car, but had Jaemin and Taeyong made it there safely? And where was Doyoung? Then you realized you hadn’t heard from Yuta since he left to help Taeyong.

But Taeyong was bandaged-up and with you only moments ago. That meant Yuta could have been anywhere.

Tears began to well from your eyes and emotion consumed your body. With no indication that he was even still inside you didn’t stop running, but you prayed that he would be waiting for you when you came outside. You prayed that he was somewhere safe. You had no idea what you would do with yourself if something happened to him.

You sprinted down the steps and at the end of the staircase was a door. Quickly you pulled it open and saw the cars come into vision, parked far away from the building to avoid being directly impacted. When you finally reached one, the back door slammed open and Taeyong urged you in the backseat.

“Where’s Yuta?” you asked, panic clear as day on your face. You scanned the entire vehicle, he wasn’t there. There was another car, but you couldn’t tell who all was inside. You raised your voice, “Has anyone seen Yuta!”

Taeyong replied calmly, “No. He’s still inside somewhere. We’re waiting for him, Doyoung and Ten.”

“What? We have to find him!” you cried.

“We don’t have time,” Taeyong told you, shaking his head. “That thing’s gonna blow any moment now and we have to get out of here ourselves:”

Jaemin put down his phone after ending a call you were too panicked to even notice he was on. “Yeah, it’s time. Sphinx just told us to go. We’ve got three minutes.”

“Where is he?” Taeyong asked.

“Escaped out the other end. Said he doesn’t have enough time to make it to the cars.”

Haechan rolled down the window and made a signal to Mark, who was in the driver’s seat of the opposite car. Then you felt the car jerk to life and began to move.

After you made distance on the road, you heard a loud sound roaring through the air. When you looked at the window, the sight made you nauseous. There was smoke rising heavily in the air and the building was engulfed in flames, beginning to collapse in on itself.

You were hysterical. Tears streamed down your cheeks and you wanted to scream, but no sound would come from your mouth. Your lungs began to feel hollow and your body shook with fear. There was no way that this was happening. It couldn’t be. Yuta couldn’t be dead. He promised you that he wouldn’t leave you.

Taeyong wrapped his good arm around you and pulled you into his chest, letting you sob onto him. “It’s gonna be okay.”

You knew he was only telling you that to placate you. It wasn’t okay. Nothing was going to be okay until you knew Yuta was safe and sound - until he was in your arms and you could feel his warmth on your body again. You were regretting separating from him. At least if he was going to die, then you wanted to go with him. And if he really was gone, you would go with him.

Death scared you not. If that was what it took to be with the love of your life, so be it.

The ride back to their headquarters was long and silent save for your sniffling. Taeyong had offered to take you back to Yuta’s room when you got there, but you vehemently refused. Everything in Yuta’s room screamed Yuta - you would have been too overwhelmed, and only God knew what would have happened to you then.

Hours passed. The Serpents managed to get in contact with Doyoung and Ten, but nothing from Yuta. And they hadn’t seen him, either.

Eventually Jaemin walked up to you, but with no humorous look in his eyes. That made your stomach wrench. You prayed to God he wasn’t there to deliver you any bad news.

“You’ve got to come lie down in my room,” he simply said, and before you could object he added, “Cobra’s orders. He wants you to get some rest.”

With a sigh, you followed Jaemin to his bedroom and eventually lied down. You stared awake for a while, doubtful you’d get even a minute of sleep considering the circumstances, but you were goddamn exhausted of everything and today had worn you out past your limit. Your body gave in against your will and you fell asleep shortly.

When you woke up, you quickly realized that you weren’t in Jaemin’s room - his blinds were drawn and curtains were thick and dark. The room you were in was lit with the morning sun.

Then, you tried to turn in the bed to shelter yourself from the sunlight but quickly noticed that  someone’s hands were around your waist and preventing you from moving. That was when you realized you weren’t alone and looked towards your side.

Auburn hair, intricate tattoos, and a jewelry-adorned ear.

You shrieked, “Yuta!”

He groaned and rolled over. He grumbled groggily, “It’s not Yuta, it’s a ghost.”

“That’s not funny!” you yelled and shoved him. Relief washed over you then as you recalled the previous day’s events. There were no words to describe how terrified you were.

With a yawn, Yuta finally sat up and outstretched his arms, and you immediately crashed into them. You almost thought that you were dreaming, but his touch was too warm to not be real. Then once you felt his skin and realized he was real and wasn’t going to slip away, you burst into tears.

“I thought I lost you,” you whimpered, holding him dangerously tight, and in return he did the same to you.

Yuta squeezed you hard and pressed a kiss to your forehead. He wiped your tears from your face with his thumb and said in his deepened morning voice, “I told you, I’ll never ever leave you. That’s a promise, baby.”

You let out a relieved breath. This was it. Everything was complete. You had everything that you could have ever wanted and you weren’t asking for much.

“How’d you even get out of there alive?”

“Strong will and determination,” Yuta drawled with a smile. “There was something I knew I had to do even if it killed me. I think this belongs to you.”

Yuta pulled open the drawer to his nightstand and reached to grab something, then he dropped it in your palm. You stared down into your hand and gawked when you realized what it was.

Your mother’s necklace.

He picked up the jewelry and began to place it around your neck. “Saw it when I came back after helping Taeyong and figured you must’ve dropped it by mistake. I knew how much it means to you and grabbed it. Ran into some of your dad’s goons and it slowed me down, but what matters is that I’m still alive to tell the story.”

He risked his life for your happiness. You wanted to be mad at him for doing such a foolish thing, but you just couldn’t. You knew exactly why he did it and you would have done the same thing for him if you were in his place.

Feeling your eyes water, you leaned into him and said like it would be your last time you were able to, “I love you.”

Yuta didn’t hesitate. “I love you, too.”

You bit your lip, sensing what you wanted to say wasn’t entirely conveyed. Then, you added, “That’s not all. I’m in love with you and I’m sick and tired of having to hide it. I wanna hold your hand wherever we go and kiss you whenever I feel like it. I wanna fall asleep in the same bed as you every night and wake up by your side every morning. I don’t wanna hide us anymore. I don’t wanna be a secret anymore, Yuta.”

“Look at me,” Yuta said, meeting your eyes. He stared at you like you hung up every star in the sky. “You’re not a secret, baby. Not here. Why do you think the guys don’t say anything? I made it clear a long time ago that I won’t take any bullshit because I’m in fucking love with you, baby. I wanna scream it from the rooftops. You’re the love of my life and I don’t care who knows.” 

That was everything you needed to hear and more. Starting today your life was going to change - and for the better. There were no more rules. You got to play the game the way your heart had simply desired.

“I want you…,” Yuta began and licked his lips. He paused to pin you down to the mattress and press a teasing kiss to your lips. “To be mine.”

You stared at his lips and replied, “Then I’m all yours.”

Yuta casted a smug look and finally - after what felt like decades of teasing - gave in to his temptation and kissed you. His mouth moved passionately against yours and you could taste the fervor on his tongue. Just like that he had you, like a fish caught in a net. The control Yuta had over you wasn’t by choice - your body simply just couldn’t say no, it was responsive to his every touch and unable to resist it’s own temptation.

One thing led to another, and you quickly realized it would be a long while before you and Yuta finally started your day. 

Hours later, you both were eventually forced to crawl out of bed and brace yourself for the day ahead. You had business to complete - business that didn’t involve each other. Plenty of change had occurred in the past couple of days and you were still in the stage of figuring out what was the next step. That was how you found yourself back in your cousin’s office, this time with Ten by your side and Renjun on speakerphone.

Alliance between Empire and The Serpents was still brewing and a work in progress, but Ten had explained the situation to the inner circle and thankfully, they took it well. Now you had to figure out what was to become of the gang.

“So, what happens to the gang?” you asked.

Taeyong leaned back in his chair. “Well, since you’re the sole heir, you would be next in the line of succession.”

You were aware, but you weren’t sure if you were ready for such a major leap. The underworld was your playground but you weren’t prepared to reign - not yet anyways. Freedom had only now been bestowed upon you. You wanted to enjoy it before you were bound down by responsibilities and your blood obligations.

Ten added, “But considering the circumstances, we understand if you’re not ready. Hence why I spoke with Renjun, and he’s agreed to be your second string. At least until you decide that you’re ready.”

“It’s the best option,” Renjun cut in from the other line. “I’ve been in your father’s shadow for years now. I know the score. If there’s anybody suitable to play substitute, it’s me.”

With Renjun being the right-hand man, you couldn’t deny anything he was saying. Not only had he seen most of your father’s dirty work up close, you were certain he had participated in some of it. But even Renjun was clueless as to everything your father had been hiding and that was why you trusted him to fulfill the role.

Taeyong nodded in agreement then glanced up at you and asked, “Are you okay with that?”

“Fine by me,” you shrugged. You couldn’t think of anyone better.

“Then, it’s settled,” Taeyong gave a faint smile. “Huang will temporarily take your place while you wind down for a bit.”

The four of you discussed a couple more things before the conversation ended and Renjun went on to spread the word. Everything was finally sailing smoothly, but a sudden question resurfaced in your head.

“Okay, but I have a question for Ten.”

The man in question feigned annoyance. “Oh, here goes the meddling snoop. Don’t think Yuta didn’t tell me about your eavesdropping, Miss Busybody.”

Your face warmed up when you realized what he was referring to, but you didn’t back down and shot, “How are you a Serpent? I thought you guys only had six members. And your name has nothing to do with snakes.”

“I thought you pieced together why they call me The Sphinx,” Ten said with a grin. “Head of human, body of a lion…,”

“Wings of a falcon, yes I know that, Ten,” you interjected and rolled your eyes.

He continued, “Then, you should know it means I’m multifaceted. In every sense of the word.”

“So, you’re a two-timing snake with commitment issues.”

“He blows hot and cold. This is the longest I’ve been able to get him to stay,” Taeyong drawled with an amused expression on his face.

Ten rolled his eyes. “I’m my own person before I’m tied down to any organization. I operate on my own. I can operate with a gang. Taeyong knows that if he needs me, he can call. Same goes to you.”

You and Taeyong bobbed your heads. You were almost satisfied. And when you left the room a couple minutes later, you knew that there was just one more thing that you needed to do.

You found Yuta in his own office just down the hall from where you were and made a mental note to get him to show you around whenever he got the chance. The headquarters were large and you only barely knew how to get from the residency corridor to the office hallway.

Peaking your head inside, you noticed him look at you when the door creaked open. He smiled when he realized it was you and gestured for you to come in. Instead of taking a seat in the spot across from his desk, you walked up to him and made his lap your personal chair, and he wrapped his arms around your waist.

He brushed your hair aside, leaning in your ear and asked, “May I help you?”

Your heart felt faint but you tried not to show it, though you knew that there was nothing you could keep from him. “Yes, actually,” you replied and added vaguely, “I want you to do something for me.”

“I would die for you,” Yuta breathed out. He was staring at you with a fascinated gleam in his eyes, the one that made you feel like a goddess.

You shook your head and purred, “Live for me.”

Yuta smiled. His grip around your waist tightened ever so slightly and he replied finally, “I can do that. But I know that’s not what you came here for. What do you really want, princess?”

“I want…,” you pretended to muse, looking up in the sky thoughtfully, “you to take me out on a date.”

“Right now?”

“Right now. I don’t care where. It doesn’t have to be fancy. We can go any goddamn where.”

Yuta was surprised and blinked for a moment, but he quickly broke into a broad smile. “I can do that, too,” he said and rummaged through his drawer for his keys. Then, he put you on the ground and rose up. “Let’s blow this joint, baby girl.”

He intertwined his fingers into yours and walked you into the hallway.

“On the way there, you can finally tell me the story of how Nakamoto Yuta of all people got extensive medical training,” you playfully suggested.

Yuta shook his head. “I don’t think so. It’s a long story that involves politicians and Dubai and you’re gonna wanna sit down for it.”

Confused and dangerously intrigued, you raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. Yuta would tell you in due time. Right now, you focused on what was happening. The love of your life was holding your hand and taking you out on a date, something you could have only dreamed of. You were living a life of no rules, no conformity. Just you and the man that you loved most.

Your free hand clutched your necklace in your palm and you thought about your mother. She was watching you and always there with you in spirit. You remembered her last wishes - she wanted you to find someone that loved you just as much as she did.

I did, Mom. I did, you thought, smiling. And you would have loved him, too.

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Less Talk | Part II

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

Summary: Jake can't stand Bradley's best friend. What's more, he's probably in love with her, which really pisses him off.

CW: mild angst, Hangman being a dick aka Hangman being himself, unresolved sexual tension, swearing, drinking

Part I | Masterlist

Jake watches you navigate your way back to the table with a scowl; it’s just like you to make an untimely entrance. He sets your fresh cocktail down beside your first, half-empty one, and takes his seat. You arrive in silence and sit down without looking at either Bradley or Jake.

“Everything alright?” Bradley asks, trying to mask the concern in his voice by clearing his throat a couple of times.

You place your hand on the stem of the new glass before you, twisting it between your fingers. “Thanks for the drink,” you say stoically.

Jake starts chewing on the inside of his lip, hoping that Bradley isn’t stupid enough to disclose who’d gotten it for you.

Bradley shoots Jake a furtive glance before looking back at you. “What’s going on, Y/N?”

“Uh,” you say. “I’m going to get going soon.”

Jake watches you carefully as your fingers slide up and down the stem. The disappointment he suffers at the thought of you leaving is downright distressing considering how displeased he’d been with your attendance in the first place. Moreover, he can’t decide if he’s angrier with himself or with you for the physical reaction that accompanies this unexpected flood of feelings. And so, before he can stop himself, Jake makes the following ridiculous bid for your attention: “Already? We’ve hardly scratched the surface of the environment disaster at the heart of international trade. Thought you could draw up a list of tropical fruit that I’m never to bring up in conversation again.”

Bradley glances over at him with elevated eyebrows and a barely concealed smirk for which Jake nearly kicks him under the table.

“And once we’ve thoroughly unpacked that dilemma,” Jake continues, “there’s a whole slew of domestic issues we could sink our teeth into. We haven’t even begun to discuss public sector corruption!”

You look at Jake sharply. “You want to talk about corruption in the public sector?” you say, your eyes igniting faster than fireworks. “Look no further than the military.”

“I was hoping we could stick to judicial misconduct or the like. You know, keep it from getting too personal,” Jake says with a slight smile that he fights to keep from spreading further.

To your right, he can see Bradley shaking his head with a widening grin that he doesn’t bother hiding.

You nod tauntingly. “Sure, sure,” you reply. “Ignore the blatant abuse of power happening right under your nose.”

Jake smiles smugly. “Ignorance is bliss, darlin’.”

You give him a sour look. “You’re despicable.”

“And you are intolerable,” he retorts, although he’s not truly annoyed; not anymore. Not by a long shot. He’d rather sit here and have you bad mouth him six ways from Sunday than watch you take your leave. “Drink your drink,” he says, almost hoping that his inappropriately commanding tone might spur you on.

You glare at him but bring the glass to your lips and take a sip which he finds exasperatingly sensual.

“Right,” Bradley says. “I’d say that’s my cue.” He lets out a sigh of feigned fatigue as he gets up and stretches his legs.

You eye him curiously while Jake gives him an ominous sort of look. “Where are you going?” you ask.

“Bar,” he says.

“You’re gonna miss our fistfight,” Jake says while you look pointedly at Bradley’s untouched beer.

“Shots,’ he says, answering your silent question. Then, he glances at Jake. “Honestly, my money’s on Y/N but you’ll have to hold off till I get back.”

“I won’t have any,” you say. “Shots.”

“Afraid the booze might make you more agreeable?” Jake quips.

You throw him a harsh glance. “Keep dreaming, cowboy,” you say.

“You’re right, that stick up your ass can’t be helped,” Jake says.

“Hangman!” Bradley shakes his head.

You roll your eyes at Jake and say, “You’ll be happy to know that I’m leaving after this round.”

Jake watches you levelly. “Why would that make me happy?” he asks. Bradley purses his lips and slowly starts to back away from the table.

“Because I’m intolerable?” you say, attempting to imitate Jake’s sarcastic drawl.

Jake laughs. “I meant that in the best way possible.”

“Such a gentleman,” you reply derisively, meeting his gaze across the table.

“I’m not even trying,” he responds with a broad smile.

“Perhaps it’s time to start.”

Jake leans into the table. “Would that make you hate me less?”

You shrug. “I doubt it.”

He laughs, watching you gulp down the rest of your second cocktail. You stand up, swaying slightly on the spot, so he gets out of his seat as well, holding his arm out in case you lose your balance. “You alright?” he asks.

You bring a hand to your head and shut your eyes briefly. “Just a little dizzy.”

Jake walks around the table so that he’s closer to you. “Why’re you leaving?” he asks, his hand hovering near your arm, ready to catch you if you fall. “Am I getting on your nerves?”

You glance up at him with a small chuckle. “You must think the world revolves around you or something.”

Jake grins. “Your world, maybe.”

You shake your head but you’re still wearing a faint smile. “You wish.”

Jake tries not to stare at you too much because the more he does, the less intolerable he seems to find you. In fact, he’s beginning to find you exceptionally tolerable. He could probably tolerate you all night long. Several times, even. He swallows uncomfortably as you take a hold of his forearm to step around him. “Why, then?” he asks, turning his hand palm-up so that he could grasp your fingers before you let go of him.

You lift your gaze to look him in the eye and he nearly loses his own balance. “My boyfriend’s coming to get me,” you say, clearing your throat as you take your hand out of his.

Jake watches you steadily. “Heard he’s a peach.”

You scoff. “You’re one to talk.”

“I’ll walk you to the door,” he says when you veer trying to dodge your own chair.

“I’m fine,” you say.

Jake’s eyes slide up and down your figure as you walk ahead of him. “Not gonna argue with that,” he mutters under his breath.

You either don’t hear him or pretend not to because you continue toward the exit without turning around. He picks up his pace to get the door for you and you give him a disgruntled look in response.

He follows you outside, watching as you make your way toward a white Mustang whose driver he can’t quite make out. He trails after you, trying to curb his mounting distaste for a man he’s never even met.

You glance up at him in surprise when he catches up to you. “Are you still here?”

“It ain’t my fault your boyfriend can’t even be bothered to step out of his car to get your door,” Jake says, pulling on the handle of the passenger door. He bends down to peek into the vehicle. “Howdy,” he says with a broad grin.

Your boyfriend looks up at him with a mixture of confusion and suspicion which Jake finds amusing and oddly satisfying.

“Uber?” Jake asks, feeling rather bold.

“Uh,” your boyfriend starts, still puzzled.

“Seresin, move,” you growl, shoving him aside.

“Joking,” Jake says, ducking his head again once you’re inside the car. “Just delivering your crabby companion. Extra temper, hold the affection. Attitude on the side.”

You give him a sour look while your boyfriend furrows his eyebrows. “Jake, shut the fucking door,” you say crossly.

“There’s that extra temper I promised,” he says, winking before finally closing your door.

Jake straightens his back as the Mustang drives away, expelling a long, dramatic sigh. Now that you’ve left, he has an entire evening devoid of futile bickering ahead of him, for which he should be immensely grateful. He watches the car take a turn and disappear into a cloud of dust. Then he watches the dust cloud resentfully for a few moments, thinking that Bradley had been right after all, because your boyfriend does seem like the shithead type.

He sucks his cheeks in with a grimace after his jaw cramps from clenching too hard, and then he makes his way back into the Hard Deck. Bradley is back at the table but there are no shots in sight.

“Thought we were getting hammered,” Jake says, sitting across from his friend.

Bradley looks up at Jake as he takes his seat. “Y/N take off already?”

Jake nods. “Fucking finally.”

Bradley snorts. “Right.”

Jake gives him a bitter look. “You gonna tell me about the boyfriend, or what?”

Bradley squints his eyes at him with a smirk. “You’re dying to know, aren’t you?”

“You’re dying to tell me,” Jake bites back.

Bradley rolls his eyes with a sigh. “He’s just such a fucking dick, man. Goes out late, comes home drunk. Doesn’t tell her where he’s going half the time. She’s constantly calling me because it’s the middle of the night and he’s not home yet.”

Jake narrows his eyes. “Why’s she with this douchebag?”

Bradley shakes his head. “Apparently, she loves him.”

Jake stares at him. “Bullshit.”

But before Bradley can respond, his phone buzzes on the table. He looks down to read the message. “Payback and Fanboy are on their way. Are we going to the club?”

Jake takes a drink of his beer and hisses. “I think I’m gonna head home, actually.”

“What about guys’ night out?” Bradley asks in mild outrage.

Jake shrugs. “Another night. I’m about ready for bed, your girl really tired me out.”

Bradley chuckles. “It’s all that effort you put into pretending to hate her guts.”

Jake rises from his seat. “Look, I don’t hate her, alright?” he says. “I just find her extremely exasperating.”

Bradley grins. “I wonder why.”

“Rooster,” Jake says with a phony smile. “Can it, will ya?”

…

It’s past midnight when there’s a frantic banging on Jake’s door. He lifts himself off the couch, wondering how Bradley managed to get drunk enough to lose his keys. His roommate is many things, but irresponsible is not one of them.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he calls, shuffling to the door as the knocking intensifies. He pulls on the door with a tired sigh and freezes upon seeing you on his doorstep.

“Is Bradley here?” you ask, your voice strained. You’re blinking up at him with sparkling eyes.

Jake’s entire body reacts as if your arrival has triggered some sort of fight or flight response: his spine goes rigid; his muscles taut; his jaw set. He flicks on the corridor light and sees that your eyes are red and your cheeks are wet; you’ve been crying. “What happened?” he asks, the tone of his voice sounding much more aggressive than he intends.

You inhale abruptly, clamping your mouth shut to keep it from trembling.

Without waiting for a response, Jake reaches over the threshold to pull you inside. “Get in here,” he says roughly, his hand connecting with the back of your shoulder as he directs you into the house. He shuts the door behind you and then gives you an unyielding look. “Did he do something to you?” he asks sharply.

You shake your head. “Where’s Bradley?” you ask weakly, blinking away your tears as you wipe your face repeatedly with your hand.

“He’s not home,” Jake says, his brows knotted in alarm. “Can you tell me what happened, please?”

You glance up to meet his gaze and it takes every ounce of his self-control to keep from cupping your face in his hands and kissing away every last tear. He clenches his teeth to get a grip on himself, frustrated that you’re uncharacteristically silent at a time when he actually needs you to speak.

Jake takes a step toward you and you lift your face to maintain eye contact. “Either you tell me what the hell happened,” he says dangerously. “Or I’m gonna go find Mustang and ask him myself. And something tells me that my conversation with him won’t be the talking kind.”

Read Part 3

Tag List:

@malindacath

@karleetakeenan

@wandering-wah

@callsign-sunshine

@ghost-heart34

@birdy-bat-writes

@matya4

@wkndwlff

@nyx2021

@bellamy1998

@oliviah-25

@alexxavicry

@army24--7

@thefandomimagines

@dracosluvbot

@smit41

@scenesofobx

@Criminalmindsandmarvel

@lunamoonbby

@malums-trash-can

@toothemoonanddback

@broketraveler87

@atarmychick007

@shanimallina87

@army24—7

@creativitybeware 

@xoxabs88xox

@Yoyop7

@hallecarey1

@nik2blog

@rrocky0ah

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@lilianashomaresparza

@latetedslesetoiles

@Elenavampire21

@starberryhorse

@ginger-gabsq

@sarcastic-sourwolf

@risingtripletaurus

@untoldshortsofthefandoms

@dempy

@lanie-k

@clancycucumber230

@littlebookbengal

@zbeez-outlet

@the-winter-marvel33

@potato-girl99981

@phantomxoxo

@flashyourgreeneyesatme

@thenewdaysalreadyhere

@abaker74

[todorokies]

A LONG WALK - satoru gojo & suguru geto

✩࿐ a midnight summer stroll with your companions stirs certain emotions regarding self doubts & nostalgia . . .

contents: sfw, polygamous satosugu x reader (can be perceived as platonic or romantic), gn!reader, fluff & angst with some comfort, 1.3k words

a/n: based off of this fanart … pls support me by reblogging my work !!

the chilled summer breeze flows melodically through the air and finds its way swirling into your skin, arising small goosebumps on your exposed arms. you should’ve taken suguru’s advice into consideration by wearing a light cardigan for your midnight outing instead of leaving with a simple tank top.

albeit taken back by the breeze, you couldn’t be truly bothered by it, allowing the gentle wind to cascade your face caressing you softly like an embrace. with closed eyes, enjoyable fragments of your childhood flashes before your eyes with each rippling gust of currency.

your mother taking you to your first hanabi festival, getting your face painted with unique spiral patterns, the colourful loud sparks of light illuminating the sky as children’s laughs and adults’ excited clamours follows along with each firework.

your chest begins to rapidly ache by the supposedly fond memory, causing palpitations on your fragile heart. your innocence got unrightfully taken away at such a young age being forced to slave the rest of your life away to the occupation of a sorcerer, something you still haven’t come to terms with.

despite the roaring traffic in the centre of the city, a particular voice is able to pull your mind out of self imprisonment.

“a penny for your thoughts?” satoru appears standing by your side with two popsicles in one hand —one that is wrapped and the other unwrapped, presumably his.

you playfully scoff, reaching for the wrapped popsicle and satoru takes a seat next to you on the bench; your face must’ve been in clear discomfort for him to ask. “keep the penny, it’s nothing serious.” you attempt to wave off his concerns.

he nudges at your elbow, “if it’s causing you to look like you’re going through a midlife crisis on a park bench then it’s definitely serious, cmon spill it.” his words are lighthearted but voice is woven with sympathy.

“where’s suguru?” you dodge his inquiry “and you got me the shittiest flavour, really? nobody likes grape, you should know by now i’m a cherry type of person.”

satoru throws a complex glance your way but decides to not push it any farther, “he went to the convenience store to pick up some ingredients. i think he wanted to cook us beef stir-fry this time? not sure though.”

you hum in acknowledgment finding it a bit strange how he doesn’t press you for more information or your popsicle flavour statement. comfortable silence soon falls amongst you two, the frequent honking of cars and chatting of civilians keeps the streets lively. it’s a nice reminder that you’re never truly alone in such a big city as tokyo.

but alas, the warmth the eccentric city provided could never be enough to rebuild the wall of blissful ignorance you once had as a child. having to lick over the fresh wounds that reopen every time something triggers the painful truth of your inevitable death that will come from this line of work.

you must’ve been zoned out for quite some time because the grape popsicle began to melt and trickle down your hand landing in droplets on your pants.

“‘toru—” you begin but bite your tongue unaware of where to even start in your pursuit to find answers to calm your erratic mind.

“what does nostalgia feel like to you?” a stupid question indeed, as you watched satoru’s face twist and turn trying to either make sense of it or formulate his answer.

he soon replies, “it usually hits me in the face at the weirdest times, but when it does, it’s a bittersweet feeling that makes me glad i was able to experience it when i did.” he shrugs, licking at his almost-done blue popsicle.

“oh.”

“was that not the answer you were looking for?” he frowns, peering at you through his sunglasses.

“no, it’s not that, whenever i feel nostalgic it’s a gross gut wrenching feeling that seriously makes me ill. i hate it.” you truthfully express yourself.

“well, there’s no right or wrong way of feeling nostalgic, it just stems from how intense you feel about that specific memory.” his words flow casually as if this topic was second nature to him.

you huff, “since when did you become so insightful and wise?” you attempt at a joke to lighten the dull mood.

he laughs. the type of laugh where his snowy white hair bounces rhythmically with each chuckle that emerges from his throat “oh stop that! i’ve always been big brained with knowledge.”

another fit of comfortable silence washes over until you felt the urge to break it, “y’know, sometimes i wish i could live in the past forever… the present is too painful at times.”

satoru demeanour falters as an unfamiliar emotion glistens in his eyes then disappears shortly after. his eyebrows furrow causing creases in the middle, he nibbles at his bottom lip with a visible hurt expression distorting his face, “are me and suguru not enough for you?” he immediately regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth.

satoru isn’t religious by any means, but he’d like to thank whoever is higher above for making it possible that you and suguru have crossed paths with him. you both complete him and give him a sense of purpose to continue what he deems he does best at; protecting. satoru prefers to live in the present with his loved ones, not the past. hearing those string of words from you caused a small pit in his stomach to erupt.

your eyes widen, “no! that’s not what i meant—”

“sorry for the long wait, i had trouble deciding if i should buy teriyaki sauce or we should just make it ourselves.” suguru comes into view from the sidewalk with a grocery bag in hand and a popsicle in the other. his eyes dart between you and satoru, already sensing unspoken tension, “everything okay?” he quirks an eyebrow up.

“yup!” satoru responds with obvious faux glee. he stretches his legs then proceeds to get off the bench taking a quick peak in the grocery bag, “took you long enough though, we were gonna turn into skeletons soon.” he flicks suguru’s forehead then scurries off like a mouse farther down the sidewalk to avoid getting his foot stomped on.

you join suguru by his side to journey back to campus. he briefly recalls his sightings that included a newly opened karaoke bar and hydrangeas are finally in bloom having seen them on his way to the store.

“you should talk to him when we get back, let him cool off for a bit,” he refers back to satoru. his minty breath fanning against the shell of your ear, “i will, don’t worry.” you send a tight-lipped smile his way.

the walk back is peaceful. the breeze from before turned into clouds of humidity, grasshoppers chirped loudly replacing the buzzing traffic that has now quieted down, assuming everyone else is calling it a night as well.

suguru takes out his phone to check the time mumbling curses under his breath once he reads three-thirty-five am, “we should hurry back before yaga kills us.”

his words trigger something in you.

“do you think we’ll be able to survive in the long run?” you suddenly blurt out. your voice shakes as you attempt to shove the forming lump in your throat down.

context isn’t provided but suguru has a hunch of what you could be referring to. the air around gets thick and the world stills as he carefully thinks over many ways to respond to the difficult question with a simplified answer.

“i think—” he pauses, and glances over at you to see your glossy eyes reflect in the moonlight and his heart crumbles at the sight.

at the end of the day, you were all still children forced into a wretched society that measures self value to strength and was either discarded by the horrors that walked among this earth or the adults in charge of the hierarchy. 

“i think we should just protect who we can and cherish our possibly limited time together.”

tags: @tokyeoi @satocidal @yunymphs

reblogs & feedback is extremely appreciated <33

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Can you do resident reader x toby who has a massive crush on them and gets super akward around them? (Also how the creeps probably tease him about his crush, mostly masky to get back at him)

I mostly just went with Masky teasing him because I feel like the others wouldn't really bother Toby about a crush because they know it'd upset him.

He's been trying so, so fucking hard to be normal around you. It's the first time Toby has had a crush this big on someone, and it's also the first time that he's happened to live in the same building as them, thus putting him around you constantly. He wants you to like him so desperately that it's almost painful for anyone else to watch, but he can't help it, and he wants you to like him so much that he's turned into an absolute mess whenever you're around him, and he doesn't know what to do anymore because now the others are starting to tease him for it, which just makes the entire situation worse.

It started with his stuttering. His stuttering was already pretty obvious, but now it was like he could barely get a word in. He constantly wants to impress you or say the correct thing around you, so whenever he goes to call out to you or respond to you he just ends up mumbling random words half the time, his brain trying in live time to come up with the right answer, and it never works. He just feels thankful that you never judge him for it and let him take his time, and if anything that you find his shy stuttering cute. The other side effect of his stuttering (and just being around you in general), is that a lot of the time his face is flushed red with blush. You've probably started to think that his face is constantly red normally because of how frequent it is, and it just makes him more embarrassed and awkward when you check on him in concern, lightly touching his cheeks and asking him if he could be getting sick, which is all fun and games until someone like Masky has the nerve to but in and say, "Yeah, he's getting sick alright. Lovesick."

Of course, you don't take him seriously because he's Masky, but he does shit like that all the fucking time. Tim does his best to apologize to Toby and not cause any more damage, but the second Masky is in control, it's like he's hellbent on fucking with Toby and trying to expose his crush on you. He'll flirt with you to try and make Toby jealous, or try and provoke Toby into talking about his love life in front of you. Luckily, you've seemed to catch on at least to the point that this annoys and upsets Toby quite a bit, so you've made an effort to talk to Toby away from Masky and for the most part just avoid him outright, much to Masky's chagrin. Toby truly isn't sure how you haven't noticed his crush on you yet, although he's heard whispers from the others that you like him too. He isn't sure if that's true or not, but he constantly finds himself hoping that it is. He just wishes he could look at you in the face without being overcome with a sense of awe and adoration leaving him breathlessly choking on air so that he could finally ask you out and make all of the teasing stop, but he'll get there someday. Right now he's fine and content to just keep gradually growing closer to you in this blissful state of mutual ignorance. 

[infernalodie]

𝐄𝐚𝐬𝐲 (𝐏𝐭.𝟐) || 𝐒𝐚𝐦 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫

“𝘔𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘺, 𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘺 𝘔𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦, 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘉𝘢𝘣𝘺, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦 𝘎𝘰𝘵 𝘯𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴“

Inspo: Tory Lanez - Best Of You

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Black!Fem!reader

Summary: In the apex, you had no worries...

Warnings: Smut, fingering, praise kink, oral (Sam receiving), Dom!Sam, Sub!Reader, just a feral Sam Carpenter.

Part One

Words: 1291

DNI IF YOU’RE YOUNGER THAN 18!

“Just like that, sweetheart~ Yeah. Yeah, yeah, right there.” Sam’s head lulled back, lips parted with faintly whispered praises slipping from her lips. Hips gently rocked on your fingers that trembled inside of her. Ever so often daringly curling and prodding at the spongy spot that left the girl quivering above you.

“Am I doing it right?” You murmured, eyes flickering between her blissed features and your fingers swallowed by her needy entrance that squeezed with each noise you made.

Sam couldn’t help but find your seeking approval adorable. For someone so confident in the first half, you looked about ready to start panicking because you had no idea of what you were doing. And maybe that was because even with you holding control of her pleasure, she still held control.

Not that you had a problem with it either. The feeling of being used in this context had your cunt soaked. Because at the end of the day, this wasn’t for you. This was for her. She’d been craving the idea of using your fingers to bring her that sweet release and you were fine with that.

Sitting up, she placed her hands on either side of your head, caging your vision to fixate on her face–Letting you see every flicker of her eyes rolling back and lips parting to accompany a moan that slipped out. It truly was something to behold. So much so that your free hand had snaked between your legs and took the initiative to rub tight circles to your clit.

The action didn’t go unnoticed by Sam, who grinned widely. “You like watching me fuck myself on your fingers, baby?” She muttered, slightly breathless.

“Y-Yeah.” You didn’t know how to answer such a question and it showed. Too perplexed by the beauty hovering above you.

Her eyes were half-lidded, her lips curled in a drunken smile and her brown skin had a thin layer of sweat. Her lips gyrated, rotating back onto your fingers that curled and scissored–just like she told you. Still, in a position of giving being your first time, you would do it however many times she asked if you got to see her like this.

“So nervous,” she teased, hips seeming to speed up. Catching each flick of your thumb against her clit perfectly and your fingers hitting a particular angle that pressed against the velvety walls that caused her to quiver. “Let loose, baby. I know something inside of you wants to fuck me till I pass out.”

Her outright nature was still something you hadn’t been able to get used to. But her encouragement seemed like it would be enough for you. Or at least, that’s what you were forcing yourself to believe.

Sitting up, you removed your hand from her clit, which forced a whine of disagreement. But you ignored it, pushing down the submissive thoughts and focusing on getting what you wanted. Because such a large part of you wanted to please her, but you weren’t sure how you could. So, you were kinda throwing yourself into the deep end, hoping that you could surprise her and get the upper hand in this situation.

Placing a hand on her chest, you forced her onto her back. She watched with her bottom lip caught between her teeth, excitement flashing in her eyes as you lowered yourself between her legs. Kissing the inside of her thighs with your teeth nipping at the delicate skin. Pulling soft gasps from the girl.

But the moment your tongue flicked her clit, Sam was in heaven. Her head fell to her pillow, eyes fluttering shut as she soaked in the feeling of your fingers fucking her to oblivion.

And her taste was almost a potion to raise the purest element of a human. Lust. The primal and true ingredient was found in the liquid dripping from her cunt and soaking your fingers. It was nothing less than heavenly.

Which is why you were quick to pull your fingers from her cunt and replace them with your tongue. Making Sam’s back arch off the bed, hands reaching above her to grab at the headboard. “Like that, baby! Just like that!” She moaned. “You’re doing so good.”

Her legs curled around your head, forcing your closer than you thought possible. But you didn’t complain. Hands grabbing at her breasts, you kneaded the flesh and continued to drink the potion leaking.

“So fucking good,” you muttered to yourself. “I never want to leave.”

Sam lifted her head and it was the greatest decision she could’ve ever made. You ate away at her greedily, eyes rolling back with shameless moans falling from your lips and flowing through her. And when your eyes refocused, you squinted at her. Sam didn’t need to see to know you were grinning in bliss.

She knew there was a side of you that was foreign to even you. And it was a gift that she could be the one to pull it out of you.

Pressing your thumb to her clit, you rose to your knees. Giving a new sightline for Sam that had her reeling. The moonlight peeked perfectly through the window in beams that broke in long bands. But she could see the glint of your soaked jaw and sable body gently quivering in excitement. With a shadow casting over one side of your face.

The smile on your face was so evident as you ran a hand over her stomach. “I fucking love you, Sam.”

At that point, Sam wasn’t sure if she was dreaming or not. What she did know was that if it was a dream, she won’t ever want to wake up. But feeling the warmth of your hands and your fingers continuing to rub at her clit made her aware of reality.

And despite you being new to this, you were rapidly tugging Sam toward the high she’d been dreaming of for months. Everything about you being lost in her cunt was enough to turn her on. But you eating her like this would be the last meal you would ever have was the final push needed.

Your tongue curled skillfully, gently encouraging her to flutter around it. “O-Oh, fuck!” Sam dug her nails into your scalp, lips parted with the corners curled in a grin. It only faltered slightly when her body began to twitch. The shocks of euphoria came in waves, their effect prolonging the high.

But you gently pinching her tits threw her into hysterics. An almost twisted laugh fell from Sam’s lips as came on your tongue. Legs tensing around your head could very much crack your skull from the pressure. Her back arched off the bed with her moans raising a few octaves before she collapsed. And like she did, you helped her gently descend from the high. Fingers gently caressing her sensitive bud until she was breathing heavily, forearm resting over her eyes.

She laughed, running a hand through your hair. Able to see you doing kitten licks to her clit, sending jolts of euphoria through her. It was adorable. And when she tried to move away, you grunted, hands grabbing at her thighs and keeping her in place. Eyes narrowing, showing your disapproval.

It was hot. Sam exhaled shakily, smiling as she said, “Round 2, huh?”