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smartkookiee · 27 days ago

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How to Lose A Guy in 30 Days || Ch.4 — jjk.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀° ❥pairing: Jungkook x Reader (she/her, afab) ❥genre/rating: strangers to lovers, 18+ ❥chapter warnings/tags: software engineer!Jungkook, writer!Reader, flirting, some family drama, crazy and manipulative mom stuff, movie night, some domesticity, they are cute for like five seconds before everything goes to shit (whoops), Jimin and Tae being little shits, Jin being a real homie, some heavy misunderstanding and miscommunication ❥word-count: 7.1k ❥Series Masterlist Previous Chapter ||❥|| Next chapter ❥Playlist fic is cross posted to ao3 send an ask or comment on post to be added to the tag list. a/n: Hi everyone I know this is a short chapter but I hope you enjoy anyway, this chapter introduces some important stuff so I really like it. Enjoy <3 ❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°

Day 07

“12 dates is hilarious.”

Jin, Ronnie, and Namjoon all snickered as you explained your last date with Jungkook, explaining the end and your sorry excuse to get out of his apartment.

“I couldn’t think of anything else! I needed some excuse to leave and then he asked me how many dates, and I just thought of the first number that felt ridiculous.” You run your hands through your hair, laughing at yourself. The four of you gathered in your small living room, you had taken to laying on the floor. Picking out fibers from the rug you had. Jin sitting next to you and Namjoon and Ronnie on the couch.

“What did he say?” Ronnie asked.

Suddenly a buzz from your phone, a small piece of you wondering if maybe it was a text from him. Seeing who it was, your disappointment became evident but you tried to play it off. Not in the mood to respond to who that text actually came from. Setting your phone down on the coffee table face down.

Thinking back to the shocked and then cool and collected look Jungkook had on his face was amusing, “Oh he was fine with it, maybe a little surprised. Said he just needed to plan for ten more dates.”

“At least he’s got some class.” Jin poked your forehead. The disappointment from whatever text you got was evident on your face.

He had a lot more class than any of you had given him credit for. “So what comes next for the two of you?” Namjoon asked, curiosity had filled the room the whole morning about what your next steps would be.

Another buzz comes from your phone, you don’t need to check it. You know who it’s from. You ignore it and continue, “Well I think I can start to turn up the heat.” You sit up. “Which is the hard part of all of this.”

“Oh you’ve got this. If you can almost break your own nose in front of him, surely anything else will be a piece of cake.” Ronnie assured you with a wink and you roll your eyes.

“Still sore to be honest.” You say touching the end of your nose. Remembering the concern on Jungkook’s face when you had hit yourself, it was sweet.

“When are you going out next? I want to help you plan.” Jin bounced in his spot next to you.

You placed a hand on his shoulder to hold him in place. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, I haven’t even heard from him.” Another buzz from your phone, you ignore it again. Wishful thinking would make it be Jungkook.

“Why not call him? Who says you have to wait on the guy?” Namjoon suggests.

“You think I should?” You felt a little nervous and unsure.

Ronnie nods, giving Namjoon a pat on the shoulder. “Namjoon's right, plus you’ve already called him so the ice is already broken!”

Jin, grabs your phone from your coffee table, holding it to you, “Oh do it now! We can help!”

You take your phone but right at that moment you get another text. Putting it at four already, your face dropped a little as you just ignored them opening your phone. Finding Jungkook’s contact and almost pressing call but suddenly you realized how close everyone was and they were all staring at you with big and intent eyes. You very quickly understood what it felt like to be a fish in a bowl.

“Okay freaks, I’m doing this in the other room.” You stand to your feet, but Jin pulls you back down and they all protest.

“No! No no we’ll be good I swear.” Ronnie said, sitting straight up in her spot like you were a teacher.

“Swear.” Jin crossed over his heart.

“...Fine.” You groan. You decided to press call. Waiting for a moment, immediately regretting your decision. You didn’t have a single clue what you were going to say.

The phone rang and rang, it was possible he was busy and you were almost going to hang up. Just as that moment line picked up, there was shuffling on the other end before the line cleared.

“Hello?” Jungkook’s voice came through the line, he sounded groggy and probably not awake. It was 11 you didn’t think it was too early to call.

“Hi.” Your voice is turning lighter than you would normally use it. “Uhh good morning! Did I wake you?”

You look to the others and Namjoon is gesturing for you to put the phone on speaker but you wave him off. One, for the off chance one of them laughs and completely embarrass you. Two, you didn’t need every second of this situation invaded by your friends.

Jungkook let out a tired laugh, “Yeah but I don’t mind… Good morning.”

"I was just sort of calling to say hi…" You hesitated, then smiled. "Which I’ve already done, so I guess I could just hang up now."

Jungkook hummed, amusement slipping into his tone. "Well, it’s a good thing you called. I was just having a crazy dream about us."

“Oh us?”

"Yeah. Something about you coming over and us having a movie night… details are fuzzy, but that was the gist of it."

“Hmm sounds like a pretty lame dream.”

"Lame?" Jungkook scoffed. "I thought it was sweet. A classic date formula."

"I’m teasing, can’t mess with a classic. Well, speaking of that." You started, shifting your phone to your other ear. "I was actually going to see if you were free today… or tonight, I guess."

Jungkook made a dramatic show of shuffling around on the other end of the line, as if checking a nonexistent schedule. "Let me see… yep. A whole lot of nothing planned for today."

"Wow, what an eventful life you lead."

"I know. Truly, I’m booked and busy."

You bit back a laugh. "Okay, can I come to yours again? I have some errands on that side of town."

A small fib. You didn’t actually have errands, but you weren’t ready to have Jungkook over at your place.

"Yeah, that’s fine." Jungkook said easily, followed by a yawn. "Text me some snacks you like, and I’ll go get them."

"Oh, you don’t have to do that."

"I have nothing better to do today anyway." There was a sound of sheets rustling, like he was stretching. "Text me when you’re on your way."

"Alright. See you later."

With that, you ended the call, exhaling deeply before finally looking up—only to find three pairs of eyes locked onto you with identical expressions of giddy anticipation.

You groaned. "Okay, I’m leaving."

Namjoon smirked. "It’s your house."

You stand just to go into your kitchen, honestly trying to step aside. Because you got five more texts in the span of that call. You knew exactly who from, and you were finding your anxiety building on your stomach. Twisting and turning as you read the messages, Jin coming over to you in your focused concern.

“It’s happening again, isn’t it?” He says it quietly, Namjoon and Ronnie distracted with some conversation by themselves.

You don’t look at him shielding your phone, “That easy to tell?”

“You looked like you saw a ghost when you looked at your phone, then continued to intentionally ignore it. I’m a bit of a detective” He leans on one hip bringing his pointer finger and thumb up to his chin. Obviously trying to make you feel better. “Let me guess, back in the country?”

“I guess so…” You pause, you get another text.

Are you going to respond to me? Hello?

You sigh, shoving your phone in your pocket, Jin sighs. “You can talk about it if you would like.”

"No." You shut it down quickly, then, realizing how defensive you sounded, cleared your throat. "No… it’s fine. I’ll be fine. It goes like this every time."

Jin arched a brow. "Yeah, and every time, you give in."

"I know." You murmured. "It’s just… sometimes hard to say no."

"But you have to." His tone was firm but not unkind. "It won’t be like last time, right?"

You swallowed. "Right."

Jin was clearly not convinced, but he let it go. "If you need backup, let me know. I’ll hover around you like a helicopter if you need."

You let out a weak laugh. "I won’t need that. I just have to keep details short. If I talk about my promotion at all, it’ll turn into a whole thing."

"I know. I was there last time." Jin said, voice laced with frustration—not at you, but at the situation. "Just… don’t let yourself get guilt-tripped into giving her money again. You know it’s not going to where she says it is."

“It’s…not always like that…” A lie, a knee jerk excuse. One you had been trying to stop making.

“Uh-huh." Jin gave you a look. "Just try to remember how bad things got. I know she’s your mom but she has a way of convincing you things aren’t so bad.”

There it was. Mom. Or as she liked to put it, your best friend.

"As long as she doesn’t start showing up at my house, it’ll be fine." You said, picking at your nails. "After that, it’ll be hard to get her to leave…"

Jin watched you closely, eyes scanning your nervous fidgeting, but instead of pressing further, he simply bumped his shoulder against yours.

"Come on," He said, his voice deliberately lighter. "No more talk about her. Take out your anxiety on Jungkook instead."

You snorted, shaking your head. "That’s not how that works."

Jin smirked. "Could be. Just make his life a little difficult for fun." He gave you a playful shove back toward the living room.

"So," Ronnie said as you rejoined them. "What’s your plan for tonight?"

You let out a slow breath, feeling a familiar little spark of mischief flicker in your chest.

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Jungkook spent the day tidying up his apartment—not that it was messy to begin with, but he wanted things to be nice. After all, you were coming over. He even grabbed some snacks, per your request, carefully picking out a selection he thought you'd like. It had been a while since he spent a Saturday night in, but honestly, he was looking forward to it.

Last week getting to know you had been easy, comfortable in a way he hadn’t expected. If the next month went like this, he’d coast through without a hitch. That is, as long as there weren’t any more unnecessary interruptions. Like Channel.

Except tonight, he had a different interruption to deal with.

A series of loud knocks echoed through his apartment just as he was pouring chips into a bowl. He sighed, already sensing trouble before he even reached the door.

"Jungkookie!" Taehyung’s familiar voice called from the other side, followed by the sound of muffled laughter—Jimin, no doubt.

Jungkook frowned as he swung the door open, revealing both of them standing there with far too much excitement for two people who weren’t supposed to be here.

"You’re not dressed." Jimin pointed out immediately, gesturing to Jungkook’s sweatpants and oversized t-shirt like they personally offended him.

"Am I supposed to be?" Jungkook asked, already feeling the beginnings of a headache.

"Uh, yeah. We have plans." Taehyung said, pushing past him into the apartment without hesitation. Jimin followed, shaking his head in disappointment.

Jungkook turned, face scrunching in confusion. "No, we don’t."

Jimin scoffed, crossing his arms. "We always go out on Saturdays. It’s tradition. Like breathing, or me looking better than Taehyung."

"You wish." Taehyung muttered before grabbing a handful of popcorn from Jungkook’s snack spread.

"Well, not tonight." Jungkook said firmly, closing the door and facing them with finality. "Y/N is coming over. We’re hanging out."

Jimin raised an eyebrow and did a slow scan of the room, eyes landing on the array of snacks, the neatly arranged couch, and the cozy atmosphere Jungkook had set up.

"Oh. Hanging out." He echoed, a teasing lilt in his voice.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes. "Not like that. Actually just hanging out."

"So you’re ditching us?" Taehyung asked, feigning a dramatic pout as he stuffed more popcorn into his mouth.

"To hang out with her? Absolutely."

Jimin gasped, clutching his chest. "Who are you, and what have you done with my party animal Jungkook?"

Jungkook rolled his eyes. "Nothing’s changed. I’m just taking our little bet seriously."

The moment he mentioned the bet, Taehyung and Jimin exchanged glances—silent, knowing, mischievous. They weren’t about to lose to him that easily.

"Come on, we came all this way." Taehyung tried again, leaning dramatically against the counter like he was truly heartbroken.

"Yeah, and I feel so bad." Jungkook deadpanned. "Now, please leave before I throw you out."

He ducked into the bathroom before either of them could protest further.

The second he disappeared, Jimin and Taehyung snapped into action.

"Okay, we have to do something." Jimin whispered.

Taehyung’s eyes flickered around the room before landing on Jungkook’s phone sitting on the kitchen counter. A slow, devious grin spread across his face.

"Don’t." Jimin warned, though he didn’t actually mean it.

Taehyung was already moving, snatching the phone up swiftly.

"We’re just gonna... help him out a little." He said, winking.

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Later, another knock sounded at Jungkook’s door.

He wasted no time opening it, revealing you standing there, smiling brightly. You were also dressed down. To his surprise in some very bright pink sweatpants, which were Ronnie’s, but he would never know. You also wore a very cutesy graphic t-shirt with my melody on it to match the vibe. Nothing wrong with them at all but not your usual vibe but this choice of outfit was more of an experiment.

Jungkook didn’t seem to blink at it.

"You wear glasses?" The words tumbled out before you even said hello, your eyes locked onto the frames perched on his nose.

Jungkook blinked, caught off guard. "Uh, yeah. My contacts were irritating my eyes, so I went with these tonight."

He stepped aside to let you in, watching as you barely moved, still staring at him like he had just unlocked a whole new level of attractiveness.

"No, they’re super cute." You said quickly, almost tripping over your words.

You actually pull your eyes away though as you make your way to the living room. Needing to bite on your something since you were a stupid sucker for glasses on anyone. Realizing Jungkook had indeed gotten most of the snacks you requested and some you assumed were to his preference.

Everything was spread over his coffee table with some precision it seemed, like he thought about where to place things intentionally.

This was a great opener to turn on your new “Charm” that Jin had helped you perfect most of the day earlier. “Awe! This is so sweet Jungkook.” Pitching up your tone almost borderline in a baby voice. Having to fight back at cringing at yourself. Taking a seat down on the couch.

Jungkook didn’t seem to notice, “I tried. I got a couple things for the both of us.” Acting all nonchalant. Strolling around the couch and taking a seat next to you.

You force yourself to giggle a little too obnoxiously. Hitting Jungkook in the chest with a little too much force but in a playful manner, “So what are we watching?”

Jungkook rubs the spot where you hit him, you had much more strength than he gave you credit for. “I was going to let you choose. I’m not too picky when it comes to movies.”

“Oh yay!” You clap your hands together, god you really hated this. This was not you, Jungkook seemed to be a little thrown by your giddiness but it was whatever. You grab the remote he strategically placed on the table. Guess he had prepared for this. “What to pick, the choices are endless.”

Which it actually had you in a small panic, you weren’t ready to have to pick the movie. You had a hard enough time just telling Jungkook what snacks you wanted. While you began to pursue, Jungkook’s phone sounded with the dig from a text. You glanced sideways for a quick second, Jungkook pulling out his phone to see who it was from.

Jungkook's expressions seemed throne and confused by the text that came through. Then another ding. The expression seemed to twist further. Your interest peaked.

“Something wrong?” You look at him, glancing down to his phone then back to him.

Jungkook locks his phone and sets it down on the couch beside him. “No, I think a wrong number is texting me.” His tone is casual, but there’s a flicker of something in his expression.

You nod, turning back toward the TV, scrolling lazily through the endless options. “Okay… are you opposed to any genres?”

“Nope.” He smirks, stretching an arm across the back of the couch. “Do your worst.”

You hum thoughtfully, but you’re already scheming. The goal isn’t to pick a good movie—it’s to pick the worst one possible. Something Jungkook would definitely find boring. But just as you’re debating between a painfully slow documentary or an overly dramatic romance, his phone vibrates again.

And again.

You don’t glance over, but you hear it—persistent, insistent.

Jungkook sighs quietly and checks his screen. More texts.

Taylor: Hey remember me? ;)

Taylor: Busy 2 night?

Taylor: Wanna get a drink??

Taylor: Hello?

He hadn’t hooked up with any Taylors recently. At least, not that he could remember. He locks his phone again, deciding it’s best to ignore it. Hoseok had drilled it into his head not to be on his phone when hanging out with someone—it was rude, and Jungkook actually wanted to be present.

But the buzzing doesn’t stop.

Meanwhile, you keep scrolling, eyes fixed on the screen, but you’ve already started keeping count. How many texts? How many times is he checking? The more his phone vibrates, the more you start tallying numbers in your head.

“Oh! Miss congeniality!” You cheer, a pick that actually really was a favorite of yours. Not a total favorite of any guys you had watched it though.

Jungkook raises an eyebrow, glancing at the banner image. “What is it?”

You tuck your legs under yourself, shifting to look at him. “Sandra Bullock is an FBI agent who goes undercover at the Miss United States Pageant to stop a terrorist attack. She gets a really awesome makeover halfway through.”

Jungkook tilts his head. “Alright. I’ll bite.”

“If you hate it, we can change it.”

“No, I always commit once I start a movie.” He didn’t seem to be bullshitting you here.

“Perfect.” You don’t hesitate to hit play.

The movie starts to play and Jungkook seems to actually be true to his word, the two of you sat close but he didn’t try to make a move or anything. He had these big brown doe eyes watching and would smile or laugh a little too himself.

But something still gnaws at you.

His phone sits in his lap, and every time it vibrates, you hear it.

And it’s vibrating a lot.

Jungkook ignores it for as long as he can, but eventually, he caves. One quick glance at the screen, and his stomach drops.

Over thirty new texts.

From Taylor.

Taylor: I CANT BELIEVE YOU

Taylor: YOU DON’T REMEMBER WHO I AM

TAYLOR: WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU

The texts continued like that. Not to mention he was also getting texts from another girl who he seemingly had no recollection of, Jemma.

Jemma: You aren’t going to tell Taylor that we hooked up right?

Jemma: Jungkook she can’t know she like… super likes you

Jemma: Like for serious likes you

Jemma: Jungkookie?

Jungkook stares at the screen, brain scrambling to place the names. Who the hell are these people? His memory isn’t that bad—if he had hooked up with someone recently, he’d remember. Right? Jungkook sighs and quickly types a response, hoping to shut this down before it gets any worse. Whatever was going on was certainly getting noticeable.

Which you had indeed noticed. You kept tally, and you were trying to find a window when you could use this. When could this play to your advantage tonight?

Jungkook begins to type furiously trying to find something to say that will end this for the night or until he can figure out what is going on another time.

Which is when you take your moment to jump, “Who are you talking too?” You ask casually, looking over at his phone. You had already seen the girl's names on his phone already.

Jungkook immediately pulls his phone closer to his chest. “It’s no one.”

Which was not a lie because Jungkook was trying to figure out who these people were.

Your eyes flick to his phone, knowing full well that’s not true. “You seem to be getting a lot of texts.” You remark, folding your arms. “Seems like someone really needs your attention.”

Jungkook notices but figures he can diffuse the situation once he figures out what's going on. He doesn’t respond but continues wracking his brain for a moment as he looks at the texts trying to place these names.

You take the silence as a good opener, having to psych yourself up a bit. “Who is she?”

Jungkook blinks, finally looking up at you. Your eyes are locked onto him, sharp and expectant. “Huh?”

“The girl you are clearly talking to, who is she?” You pressed, your voice was now more accusing and you were waiting to see what kind of answer he was going to give.

“I’m not–” Almost like on cue Jungkook’s phone begins to ring in his hand. The big bold name Taylor is fully visible on his screen for the both of you. “Oh my god this can’t be happening. I swear I genuinely don’t know who this is.”

“You expect me to believe that? Your phone has been going off all night.” You huff and look away from him and keep your eyes locked on the movie. Having to bite the inside of your cheek so as to not laugh at how ridiculous you sound right now.

Jungkook looks lost. Completely lost. He declines another incoming call, his frustration growing. But the silence only fuels your ‘annoyance.’ He was confused how you immediately Jumped from A to Z so quickly. Jungkook grits his teeth and scrolls through the messages again. He scans every name, every interaction—until finally, it clicks.

Only to come to the realization…

“Oh those fuckers.” Jungkook says under his breath. “I will be right back.”

Your eyes widened because was he really going to leave while you were upset right now? Fake upset but still. “You’re actually going to take that call?”

“It’s not what it looks like, just let me take care of this. Then I will clear this all up.”

“Not what it looks like? It looks like you’re going to take another phone call with another girl during the movie? Are you serious?” You wave your arms around a little dramatically but it sells it.

Jungkook is unsure of how to navigate this. “I just need to resolve this so that we are no longer interrupted. I swear it’s not what it looks like.”

Jungkook gets another call from the “mysterious” Taylor. Jungkook answering it and stepping out the front door of his place to take the call, “You guys are really fucked up you know that?”

There’s a dramatic throat clearing on the other end, followed by an overly high-pitched voice. “What do you mean, Jungkookie? I’m Taylor.”

Jungkook closes his eyes, exhaling sharply. “Had your fun? Played your games?”

There’s muffled laughter, and then Jimin’s voice replaces Taehyung’s. “We were just screwing with you, man. We were pissed you bailed on us. By the way, how’s your date going?”

Jungkook pinches the bridge of his nose. “Thanks to you two idiots, she thinks I’m screwing around. So not great.”

“Oh no.” Taehyung deadpans. “So sad. Taehyung's voice mocked Jungkook but Jungkook was actually mad.

You were already hesitant to date him in the first place and this looked really bad. Your reaction may have been a little strong… and confusing since you were pretty rational. It did look bad though and Jungkook couldn’t deny that.

“Fuck you guys.” He mutters. “We were actually having a nice time.”

“You never said we couldn’t interfere.”

Jungkook ran a hand over his face. “Because that’s fucking insane? I didn’t think I had to say it.”

“Fine, you’re no fun. We won’t interfere from here on out.” Jimin swears” Jimin’s voice was mockingly sincere but Taehyung wasn’t going to make the same promise.

“Goodnight.” Jungkook was too annoyed to deal with them anymore.

“I hope she dumps you-” Taehyung calls into the phone as Jungkook didn’t even dignify that with a response; just hung up and shoved his phone into his pocket. He let out a slow breath before heading back inside.

The apartment felt heavier than before, quieter, except for the hum of the movie still playing in the background. You were still on the couch, but your posture had changed. You weren’t curled up comfortably anymore; instead, you sat stiffly, chewing on popcorn in the kind of silence that was loud. You wish you could see yourself, it was a very convincing performance after all.

Jungkook hesitated before stepping closer. “I’m sorry about that.”

You didn’t even look at him. “Yeah, okay.”

He winced. “You’re mad.”

“Well, duh, Jungkook.” You exhaled sharply, shaking your head as you stared at the screen. “You were texting and talking through the movie when we were supposed to be hanging out. If you’d rather be somewhere else, you could’ve just said so.”

Jungkook sat down beside you, carefully, like you might bolt at any second. “I don’t want to be anywhere else.” His voice was quieter now, sincere. “I’ve really liked getting to know you. I actually wanted to watch this with you, but my idiot friends decided to mess with me.”

You shot him a skeptical glance. “Friends. Right.”

“I swear.” Jungkook ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. “They were pissed I bailed on them tonight, so they changed their names on my phone, spammed me, and set me up.”

You hesitated, but Jungkook was already unlocking his phone. He scrolled up in his messages, showing you the texts. “See? Just last week, their real names were still here. This whole thing was just them being assholes.”

You narrowed your eyes at the screen, scanning the evidence. A pause. Then, finally—“Wow. Your friends kinda suck.”

Jungkook let out a relieved laugh. “Just a little.” He shook his head. “They thought it would be funny. And, okay, maybe it was—”

“It wasn’t.” You deadpanned.

He smirked. “Yeah well, not for me.”

You sighed, your shoulders relaxing just a little. “I guess I… overreacted. I just have a thing about people being on their phones during movies.” You scratched the side of your head, looking slightly sheepish.

Jungkook grinned, happy to take the win. “No more phone.” He picked it up and placed it far away on the couch. “Easy.”

It was a nice gesture but completely unnecessary. “You’re cute but it’s alright.”

“Nah. No more phone. I’ll never look at it again.” He teases as he scoots close to you, “You’re much more interesting to look at anyways.”

“Wow, that was really cheesy.” You teased, shaking your head.

Jungkook just grinned.

Despite the earlier hiccup, the night had settled into something easy and comfortable. You rewound the movie to the parts he missed, both of you sinking back into the cushions as if nothing had happened. There was no tension, no lingering frustration—just soft laughter, playful commentary, and the occasional reach into the snack pile.

“Okay, but like, I would let Sandra Bullock beat me up too.” Jungkook commented, nodding in approval at the screen.

You turned to him, raising a suspicious brow. “Masochist?”

“I’ll never tell.” His smirk was effortless, teasing, but what you hadn’t quite realized was how close the two of you had shifted throughout the night. Your legs had found their way over his lap at some point, and his arm was draped lazily around your shoulders, his bicep doubling as a makeshift pillow. His other hand rested absentmindedly over your calf, tracing absent-minded patterns against the fabric of your sweatpants.

Jungkook couldn’t remember the last time he had just sat with someone like this—no expectations, no rush, just the quiet hum of companionship. It was… nice.

You, on the other hand, were still determined to find another opening to be difficult, but as the night wore on, you were reluctantly realizing that you might have to try again another time.

Jungkook had kept his word, his phone untouched for the rest of the evening. Not that he was missing much. Whatever was happening in the group chat could wait—he was too busy being here. With you.

“You’re all techy and whatever.” You mused, tilting your head up at him. “Would you ever be an FBI agent?”

Jungkook scoffed, shaking his head. “Not a chance. I don’t think I’m smart enough to foil a terrorist plot… or go undercover without blowing my own cover.” He absentmindedly played with his lip ring, his voice dipping into something thoughtful. “What about you?”

You exhaled a small laugh. “Yeah, no. I’m a writer, not an agent, that’s for sure.” You paused, considering it for a moment before adding, “Although, I think I could do undercover.”

Jungkook glanced at you, intrigued. “Oh yeah? You could be a Gracie Lou Freebush?” He referenced Sandra Bullock’s alias in the movie.

“Oh, absolutely.” You said with zero hesitation. “Plus, I’ve interviewed and hung out with a lot of pageant girls in the past for my writing.”

His brows lifted in genuine interest. “Wait, what? How come?”

“I did a piece in college about pageantry and got to know a lot of girls who did it professionally. They were really sweet, honestly.”

“That’s so cool.” His voice was laced with admiration. “What else have you written?”

You hesitated, suddenly shy. “Oh god, I’ve written about a lot of things, but nothing worth the time.”

“That can’t be true.” Jungkook’s voice softened, his curiosity undeniably genuine. “I’d love to read something… I mean, if you’ll let me.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard. His big, expectant eyes searched yours, but there was no teasing, no ulterior motive—just pure interest.

A warm flush crept onto your cheeks. “Okay.” You murmured, cursing the lovesick way your voice wavered. “Maybe I can find something that’s not totally terrible.”

Jungkook grinned like you’d just given him a prize.

Neither of you had been paying much attention to the screen, and at some point, the movie had ended.

“Alright, your turn.” You pat Jungkook’s arm, the one still draped around you, before shifting your legs from his lap, giving him space in case he needs to move.

Jungkook leans over to the coffee table and retrieves the remote from the coffee table. Shuffling through the choices. He thought for a moment what he should select. If he should stay on the romance vein or go down another path.

Eventually landing on, definitely a left turn movie for the night.

“Okay, I know this totally changes the tone, but I love this movie.” He clicks on Across the Spider-Verse. “The animation is insane, and I really love Spider-Man.”

You laugh. “You don’t have to sell it to me. I’ve seen it before.”

“Good.” His excitement is almost tangible. “I’ve been wanting to rewatch it.”

Without a second thought, Jungkook casually lifts your legs back over his lap, a move that catches you off guard.

“I was cold.” He feigns innocence.

“Uh-huh, I super believe you.” You giggle, settling back against his arm just as the movie begins.

You couldn’t have gotten a minute in before you felt your phone vibrate like you were getting a call. It was in your pocket and you intended to silence it but you wouldn’t be so lucky to ignore it. Your mom’s ID popping up on the screen. You pretty quickly decline it, hoping, no praying it wouldn’t be pushed further than that. That was until the text that it was immediately followed up with.

Mom: Baby I’m coming over. You keep ignoring me.

Mom: I have so much to tell you about!!!!!!

Oh no. Oh no no no.

She was going to your place. You aren’t at your place.

Panic spreads like ice through your veins. You sat up in your place away from Jungkook, hiding the sick feeling that spread across your face. You had to call her. If you didn’t call her back she would go to your place and ask so many questions. She didn’t have a key but she would still manage to get in. Right after you just made that whole stink about Jungkook being on the phone earlier.

You couldn’t ignore her. You have to call her back.

She won’t let it go.

Jungkook was worried for a second when you moved away from him so suddenly and now you were suddenly standing.

“I’m so sorry.” Your voice is tense. “I need to take a call.” You hesitate before meeting his gaze. “It’ll just be a second—I need to step into the hall.”

Jungkook for a second almost doesn’t think about it but you just made a whole fuss about him taking a call. “Are you serious?”

“I know.” You say quickly. “I know what I said.”

“Is this a joke?”

“No.” Your phone vibrates again. Another text.

Mom: I’ll be there in 30 minutes.

Shit.

“I’m sorry.” You say again, already moving. You weave around the couch, heading straight for the front door before Jungkook can protest.

You shove your feet into your shoes and step into the hall, needing somewhere private; somewhere your mom won’t hear even the faintest trace of Jungkook in the background.

The elevator.

You dial her number and you press the button for the elevator to go to the first floor. The phone on the other end ringing for what felt like forever in your ear. Feeling more and more sick to your stomach with each ring. Dreading hearing her voice on the other side.

The line picked up as you reached the first floor. “Baby!” Your mom’s voice bursts through the speaker, cheerful and chipper like she hadn’t just threatened to ambush you. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all day.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “Yeah, I know. Mom, why are you going to my place right now?” A headache forming in the back of your mind.

She sighs dramatically. “I miss you, baby. I’ve been gone for three months!”

“Yes Mom-...”

“And yet, you don’t even want to talk to your own mother?” Her voice shifts, just enough to press guilt into your ribs. Her saddened voice on the other end, hitting you in the same familiar place in your gut.

You exhale slowly, biting down the automatic frustration. If you say the wrong thing, she’ll cry. If she cries, you’ll have to go see her. “Of course I want to talk to you.” You say carefully. “I’d love to talk. But I’m busy.”

“Busy with what? Where are you?” Her interest clearly piqued that you could possibly have plans that had nothing to do with her.

“I’m out with some friends. Nothing special.” There is zero chance you’re mentioning Jungkook.

“Oh no, no, no. How many times have I told you those friends of yours are no good?” Her voice is all silk. “Come meet me somewhere instead.”

“How about I come see you later this week mom. I am busy with a work project but I’m all yours later this week…” You grit your teeth. You hope this might be enough and she hums on the other end.

“All weekend?” She counters. “I get to have you all weekend? I just miss you, baby. And I have so many clothes from Europe that don’t fit me right—you’ll love them.” Typical. Dumping overpriced, ill-fitting designer pieces onto you so she doesn’t have to feel wasteful.

“Yes. We can go through them together.” You nod to the air around you almost like she was here or that she could see you. Like the look on your face right now wouldn’t send her into an immediate spiral.

“Oh, perfect! I’m so excited.” She cheers on the other end and it in some sick way brings a smile to your face.

“Okay I really do have to go.”

“Alright, baby. Call me tomorrow!” She sounds almost… normal. But you know better. If you don’t call tomorrow, she won’t let it go.

The moment the call disconnects, you sag against the elevator wall, pressing your palms to your face. Needing something to bring the anxiety that had welled up in your chest back down to a normal level. Your fingers tremble slightly, the weight of the conversation settling in like lead in your stomach.

This was such a bad time for your mom to be back in town. If she got even a whiff of your promotion, she’d find a way to turn it into something about her. And if she caught onto whatever this… thing was between you and Jungkook, she’d find a way to ruin it.

Maybe you should just sic her on Jungkook. That would send him running for sure.

In hindsight, if this were any other date, it would probably look bad. You had disappeared in the middle of the night, left without much of an explanation, and now, you were returning like nothing had happened. It felt messy, inconsiderate even. But everything with your mom is an emergency.

The problem is, you can’t say that.

With that thought, you start the slow walk of shame back to his apartment. The door is still unlocked from when you left, and as you step inside, the difference is immediate. The air feels stiff. The movie was stopped. The room is too quiet. You slowly stepped further inside, Jungkook was leaning against his counter looking at something on his phone.

You hesitated, stepping inside and slipping off your shoes. "Sorry about that." You said quietly.

Jungkook doesn’t look up right away. "It’s… fine."

It isn’t.

Not really.

It’s obvious in the clipped way he says it, in the tension sitting in his shoulders. He’s irritated, trying not to show it, but you can feel it lingering between you.

And honestly? You get it.

You were the one who had made a big deal about him being on his phone earlier. You were the one who rolled your eyes at him answering a call, told him to be present. Then, the moment your own phone rang, you left the apartment with little word.

So yeah, you get it.

"It was just an emergency." You offer, though even you can hear how weak of an excuse it sounds.

Jungkook finally glances up then, dark eyes flicking to yours. "Right. Just a little frustrating though, don’t you think?"

Your stomach twists. "I know."

He exhales sharply, shaking his head as he sets his phone down on the counter. "I mean, you gave me so much shit about being on mine. Accused me of something you didn’t have any information about. Then you not only take your call—you leave the floor for it."

"I get it." You say quickly. "I do. And you’re right. It was hypocritical of me."

Jungkook studies you for a moment, expression unreadable. His voice is quieter when he speaks again. "Was there a reason you had to take your call downstairs?"

“What?”

“Well I stepped into the hall to make sure everything was okay but you had totally fled the floor. What’s up?” Jungkook coming off even more defensive now

You freeze for a fraction of a second, caught off guard.

"I—" You start, before quickly regaining composure. "It was private."

Jungkook’s brows lift slightly. "And mine wasn’t?"

You inhale, feeling an edge of frustration creep in now, not necessarily at him, but at this entire situation. At how suddenly complicated something as simple as a movie night had become. How your mom had complicated a simple movie night. Something for your job.

Then you remember. This was for your job. The thing that got you into this situation, for one reason only…

So you switched gears "You were being really suspicious and weird about who you were talking to. Plus who even calls people anymore.” You say, keeping your voice measured.

Jungkook lets out an incredulous laugh. “You literally just took a call.”

“Yeah, but mine was an emergency,” You stress, as if that explains anything.

He narrows his eyes. “Oh, so when I answer my phone, I’m talking to some girl, but when you answer yours, it’s a crisis hotline?”

You shrug. “Correct.”

Jungkook pauses having to think about what was even going on before bouncing back, “Yours seemed much more like a call from another guy than mine seemed like a call from another girl.” Jungkook was frustrated but he was falling back on an old habit. He was falling into that old routine of finding an excuse to run. Except he couldn’t in this situation, so he needed to switch gears just like you.

You let out a slow breath. Acting a little too casual for the situation at hand. "Maybe we call it a night, doesn’t seem like we will see eye to eye on this.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything for a moment, but eventually, he nods, stepping away from the counter. "Yeah." He mutters. "Probably for the best."

You don’t miss the way his voice shifts, slightly more closed off than before, and something about it stings more than you expect it to.

But you don’t say anything else.

Instead, you slip your other shoes back on, grab your things and leave. It wasn’t okay for him to just automatically assume that you were talking to another guy. Then again that's exactly how you started. It didn’t matter though, having this night go wrong actually helps. It helps push Jungkook away and maybe after tonight he might ghost you who knows.

It would certainly make your article short but you could make a good narrative, losing a guy in 6 days.

Still a small pang of guilt was eating at your stomach. Usually you would fight to explain yourself but you were doing your best to fight those normal instincts. This was the assignment, even if a part of you was actually starting to like Jungkook a little bit. He put in a lot of effort for just a few dates which was completely unexpected.

Maybe in another life where you didn’t have to act insane.

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whereslynx · 5 months ago

Note

Can I get one where the reader and Oscar are being lovey dovey with each other infront of the santos and they start making jokes and he went from being all sweet to her to being a mean asf and she calls his oso for the first time ❤️❤️❤️

a/n: yuppp! might be the last request for today. i had a bit of free time today so i decided to post more than usual. still working on your guys’ requests, more will be out tomorrow!

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

It was rare for Oscar to show much affection in front of the Santos, but today, he was feeling different. Oscar’s arm draped around your waist, pulling you close as the evening breeze swept through the lot. The glow of the setting sun bathed everything in a warm, golden light, softening the edges of the hard, street-worn world you were both so familiar with. The Santos were scattered around, some leaning against cars, others talking amongst themselves, but you and Oscar stood apart—an island of quiet in the middle of their noise.

Oscar’s thumb gently rubbed slow circles on your hip, his touch light but steady. The warmth of his body against yours made you feel safe, protected, like you were the only thing that mattered to him right now. His lips brushed close to your ear, his voice low, soft, meant only for you. “You good, mi amor?”

A soft laugh escaped you, and you leaned into his side, savoring the rare sweetness of the moment. “Yeah, I’m good,” you whispered back, turning slightly to catch his gaze, which was softer than you were used to seeing when he was out here with the crew.

Across the lot, Johnny, always the loudest, let out a whistle, immediately drawing attention. “Damn, Spooky, when did you turn into that guy?”

You glanced over, already seeing the teasing look in Johnny’s eyes, the way he was grinning like he’d just uncovered some deep secret. Flaco, not one to miss a chance, leaned in, nudging Johnny with his elbow. “Ay, I ain’t never seen Spooky act like that before. What, you soft now, homie?”

The air shifted, the usual banter between the crew taking on a different energy. They were used to seeing Oscar as their leader—cold, calculated, always in control. This version of him, with his arm around you and that softness in his touch, was new to them. The cracks in his armor were showing, and the Santos weren’t going to let that slide without poking fun.

But Oscar? He didn’t move. He just chuckled under his breath, low and rough, as if daring them to keep talking. Instead of pulling away, he tightened his hold on you, tugging you even closer, his fingers pressing just a little more firmly into your side. “Let ‘em talk,” he murmured, lips brushing your temple in a casual display of affection that felt far more intimate than he usually allowed in public.

You felt the warmth spread from where his hand rested on your hip, a comforting pressure that anchored you to him. “Oh, we gon’ talk alright,” Johnny shot back, arms crossed, his grin widening. “What’s next, Spooky? You gon’ write her poetry? Maybe a lil’ love letter?”

Flaco cracked up at that, practically slapping his knee. “Or start slow dancing in the lot!” he added, his laughter loud and exaggerated.

Oscar’s body stiffened, the casualness fading. You could feel the subtle change in his posture, the way his muscles tensed, even though his arm remained around you. His fingers gripped your side just a little tighter, like he was holding onto you not just for affection, but to ground himself. His jaw clenched, the humor slowly draining from his expression. “Let ‘em get it out of their system,” you whispered, giving him a gentle nudge. You knew his temper, knew how quickly it could flare if pushed. “They’re just jealous.”

But the teasing continued, the boys clearly having too much fun with this new side of Oscar. “Yo, y’all see this?” Johnny called out again, making sure the whole crew heard him. “Our boy Spooky’s whipped. Got him all sweet and cuddly, probably calling her ‘baby’ behind closed doors.”

The grin on Johnny’s face was pure mischief, and the rest of the crew started laughing along with him, the sound echoing through the lot. It was all in good fun, but you knew Oscar wasn’t going to let it slide much longer.

Oscar’s grip tightened again, but this time it wasn’t just affectionate—it was tense. You could feel the shift in him, the way his body language went from relaxed to rigid in an instant. His face, once softened by your presence, now hardened with that same unreadable mask he wore so well. His eyes, which had been warm and focused on you, were now fixed on Johnny, narrowing into a sharp, dangerous glare.

His voice, when he finally spoke, was low, cold, and had that lethal edge that made everyone stop laughing. “You done yet, Johnny?”

The lot fell silent. The lighthearted mood from earlier vanished in an instant as the tension spiked. Johnny’s laughter faltered, his grin slipping into something more uncertain. His hands came up in mock surrender, but there was a flicker of nervousness behind his eyes now. “Aww, come on, Spooky. We just messin’ with you, bro. Don’t be so—”

Oscar cut him off, his voice sharp and final. “Nah. You done?”

There was no mistaking the warning in his tone. The rest of the Santos exchanged looks, the air heavy with the sudden seriousness that had taken over. Johnny backed down quickly, his grin fading as he shrugged, not wanting to push any further. “Aight, man. Chill. We cool.”

Oscar let out a slow breath through his nose, his gaze still locked on Johnny for a beat longer, ensuring the message had sunk in. Then, without another word, he turned his attention back to you. But it wasn’t the same Oscar from earlier—the sweet, gentle version of him had slipped away, replaced by the hard, unyielding Spooky that everyone knew.

You could feel the change immediately, the way his hold on you was still protective, but not as soft as before. His face, though close to yours, had that edge again, the tenderness buried beneath layers of control and dominance. You wanted to break through that again, to bring him back to the moment you two had been sharing before all the noise.

You leaned up to whisper in his ear, your voice light, teasing, trying to ease the tension. “Come on, Oso, they’re just playing.”

He hesitated, the word catching him off guard. His brow furrowed as he pulled back slightly, looking down at you with a mix of confusion and intrigue. “Oso?” he repeated, his voice quieter now, as if testing the nickname out for the first time.

You smiled, tilting your head to meet his gaze, letting the nickname roll off your tongue like it had always belonged to him. “Yeah. Mi Oso.”

For a second, you saw the shift in his eyes, the hardness cracking just enough to let a little warmth through. He chuckled softly, the sound low and rough, but there was a hint of amusement in it. “Aight,” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost affectionate again. “I’ll let it slide this time.”

His lips brushed against your forehead, a tender kiss that felt like a quiet promise. The shift in his mood was subtle but there, the warmth returning as his arm tightened around your waist, pulling you close once more.

Behind you, the Santos crew exchanged looks, Johnny rolling his eyes with a smirk. “Ain’t no way you just called him ‘Oso,’” he muttered, shaking his head, but the tension had broken, the atmosphere lightening again as the guys returned to their usual banter.

Oscar shot Johnny a look, the threat lingering in his eyes, but the heat had cooled. “Say one more word, Johnny, and you’ll see why they call me Spooky.”

The crew laughed, the tension completely dissolved now. You couldn’t help but shake your head, hiding your smile as you pressed your face into Oscar’s chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. He had a way of switching between the rough, tough leader everyone respected and the softer, more protective side that only you got to see.

And now, only you got to call him Oso. Your Oso.

That was yours alone, and in this world of noise and chaos, it felt like the one thing that was truly, completely yours.

#omb #on my block #on my block x reader #fanfic #oneshot #spooky #spooky x reader #oscar diaz #oscar spooky diaz x reader #reader insert #fluff

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revolutionarywig · 3 days ago

Note

Is there any historical evidence for the friendship/romantic relationship of saintspierre?

love love love your art

Im gonna send you to this post over here written by @saint-jussy because it summarizes everything i wanna say pretty well!

Also this post by @anotherhumaninthisworld specifically on their friendship

But to list in bullet points form:

Literally dying side by side with your homie

Drafting a speech to defend your homie even though strategically it was very bad and dangerous, and that your homie was the one who made a blunder move

Charlotte Robespierre saying Camille was Robespierre's favorite revolutionary.....AFTER Saint-Just and Bonbon.

Saint-Just writing to Robespierre even though he is not the representative for the region. There's at least admiration there

Saint-Just going to Robespierre's room without saying hi to anyone according to Maurice Duplay

Saint-Just literally writing about friendship marriage...HMmmm ceux qui s'aime son epoux.....

A private staircase that Duplay added specifically to allow separate access......(more details on the layout of the duplay house) (lets be real they definitely fucking-

Barere saying they worked in a private office-

Idk maybe I am delusional but these are my evidences that I present. Also sometimes I ship them not because it's the most realistic/possible to have happened, but because i think it's just hella poetic whatever they have going on (romantic or not).

#but i can dream and be delusional

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howisjoostfanfictionforfree · 22 days ago

Text

Three Times as Many ///// Longer Nights

Real person fiction! Joost Klein x vampire!reader

CW: 18+, MDNI, RPF, brief reference to past murder, cannibalism if you squint, smoochin, dry humping, oral sex, light bondage

Reader: vampire!reader, cisfemale!reader, not too descriptive with readers appearance, implied to be smaller than Joost but by an unspecified amount

Notes: Read part 1 here. Sorry for how atrociously long this part took! Vampire Joost in the Why Not??? mv helped give me the inspo to finish. Hope you like! Part 3 is already being written.

Gargantuan kudos to @joosthead for being my inspiration and my support as always! Also huge shoutout to @catholicfacade and @tkomptgoedluv for your kind words that have driven me onwards with this fic! My tumblr homies on god

Words: ~11,600

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You're not sure why you left Joost standing there.

Why you ran away.

Again.

Things were going so well. You could have kissed him. Could have done all sorts of things. It's not like he wasn't into it.

Maybe it was just to get a reaction. Joost is so expressive. The way he looks at you is already something you crave and you've really only just met. Maybe, it’s because as much as you want to believe you overreacted that first night, you're still not really sure you did. Nothing has made you lose control like that since the time you literally ate someone.

The doubt tickles at the back of your mind but it’s also hard to pay it too much attention when the insistent pressure of Joost’s cock against your ass is seared so clearly into your memory. It’s hard not to want to see him again.

Still, if you’re doing this, you’re taking no chances.

Joost is expecting you at his studio tomorrow, so tonight, Melkweg is the place to be.

Tickets to actually see a show are too expensive when you're not there to enjoy yourself so the cold evening is spent against the even-colder cement wall of a movie theater across the street. Wedged between gently lit ads for Bones and All and Puss in Boots you watch those who have partied too hard trickle out of Melkweg’s ever-revolving door.

Each is more than drunk enough to suit your needs, but tonight they are all in groups. So responsible. So unhelpful. When one guy finally stumbles out sans-friend you let yourself follow, slipping into those same shadows that are deeper than ever.

Fall is well underway and nights are only getting longer.

A few streets away the lamps are sparse enough and he goes down easy. His blood is hot and sharp and everything it should be, but it’s hard to miss how unmoved you are by the man beneath you. He tastes good, it scratches an itch, but your attention is divided and the whole process somehow feels clinical.

Even now you're thinking of Joost. How you wish it were him. How he would moan when your teeth slide in deep. Deeper than he expects. Would he still be so happy-go-lucky then? Or would he claw and beg? You don’t even know which one you prefer. The man groans and you realize you're biting way too hard.

It was a good idea to do this tonight.

You try to drink your fill, as much as you suspect the poor guy can tolerate, and release him. He nearly stumbles into the canal in his panic, but rights himself before you have to make a watery rescue. His hot blood simmers in your veins, warming you against the evening chill as you watch him stagger down the street and disappear.

Hopefully he can find his way home on a cold night like this.

Anti-murder insurance measures complete, you head for your own home with what you hope is a full belly.

The morning doesn't bring the rain so typical of your new favorite city, but instead a creeping mist. Almost as thick as the shadows that multiply with each passing night, the tiny droplets obscure the neighborhood as you stand on your balcony ruminating on how very in-control you will be today.

The address Joost gave is surprisingly close to your own apartment. The brisk ride on your shabby bike that may or may not have originally belonged to someone else lasts only ten minutes.

16 Schimmelstraat is like much of Amsterdam. One of many brick row houses lined up one after another, complete with compulsory loading beam and hook jutting out above the top window, leftover from when the street was once a canal. There are a few small shops tucked in at ground level but most of the buildings appear residential.

Few people are on the street and with the way the sun can’t quite penetrate through the murky whiteness, the world almost seems to stand still.

Joost stands on the stoop at the end of the row in what looks like at least three hoodies. He’s still so beautiful it’s shocking. Leaning against cold whitewashed brick, much as you did last night, he smokes lazily. The tendrils curl up and away from perfect pouty lips to join with the mist and you can imagine the city is enshrouded all because of him.

You see Joost long before he sees you. Hard not to spot a glowing head of hair like that even in this murkiness. Here in the Netherlands it shouldn’t stand out, but it did in the club and it does now too. You’re sure it’s just the almost-mullet. Nothing to do with the way his features are imprinted on your hindbrain.

When he notices you coming down the street, his face lights up just like before. He can barely stub out his cigarette as he keeps looking up like you’ll disappear. Bounding down the steps on those long long legs, Joost skids to a halt mere inches away, nearly bowling you over and flooding you with his scent.

“Heyyy!” Joost looks so excited it's almost embarrassing. Hands flit around at his sides like he wants to touch but in the sober light of day he can't seem to find an excuse. It doesn't keep him from standing way too close for sanity. Already, your preparations are threatening to become useless as you fight the tug behind your eyes and the pit in your stomach yawns.

“I’m happy you came!” He blurts, giddy. “I didn't know if you would really come in the middle of the day.”

You squint. He can’t be serious.

“I’m not nocturnal, I just prefer the club at night!”

He giggles nervously “I wasn’t sure. Everyone knows vampires burn in the sun. Or sparkle. Looks like you don’t sparkle either.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

He smiles so sweetly at that. “You don’t. I’m glad you came. Still want me to show you my stuff?” There's the eyebrow waggle again. You didn't know someone could look so tender and so unrepentantly horny at the same time.

“C’mon, it’s just upstairs.”

Opening the door, Joost lets you through before following you inside. Immediately faced with another door you try the handle, but before you can budge it there is a jingle and he leans past with a key. It’s obvious Joost is making a move when he lets his chest press against your back as he all but pens you in, breath fanning over your neck. It’s more than welcome, but in the tiny space trapping every molecule of his scent, it nearly makes you do something terrible.

“Wait, wait, hold on.” You whip around and press flat against the door to regain some space, trying desperately not to get riled. No matter your preparations, Joost is an assault on the senses.

“Sorry!” he pulls away quickly, big blue eyes searching you from behind thick black frames, eyebrows inching upwards. “Sorry. Was I reading this wrong?”

Holding your breath would help, but he's asked you a question and you can’t imagine ignoring a face like that. “No, you just..you smell too nice…and…I really need to get a handle on the eyes. Just…hold on one sec.”

Joost absorbs that for a split second before melting back into a smile. “Oh, but we're alone, it's okay right? I like your eyes.”

Such a flatterer. And he’s kind of right, it is good that you're alone for this. It’s a goddamn miracle no one noticed your eyes at the club. Here, you almost want to take advantage of the opportunity to relax around such an unusually accepting person. Still, you know Joost is also an unusually slippery slope.

“No- I’m trying not to-” you can’t even finish.

He waits patiently while you fight it but the memory of him hard against your ass in the club makes a timely reappearance and the eyes snap into place.

“Fuck.” You cover them quickly.

He brings a hand to your wrist. “Let me see.” So gentle and so shameless, he convinces you easily. Dropping your hand, you meet his eyes and he holds them, just as mesmerized as before.

“That must be a huge pain in the ass.”

Your confusion must show because he clarifies “Hiding that all the time I mean. I’m glad I didn’t just buzz you in, Tantu might have been the one to get the door.”

You blink. “I don’t think Tantu would have been a problem.”

It’s his turn to look puzzled.

“I mean, this isn’t usually a problem. You just smell so much better than anyone else.” Now that you’re past pretending to be human you can’t find it in you to be anything other than blunt.

The gears turning in his head are all but visible as he swallows thickly, face pink. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Well, just give me a minute, I think I’m almost there.” something about what you say makes his stunned look slide into a smirk but you ignore it in favor of focusing on slowing your heart and pretending you don’t smell the spike of arousal coming off him.

You’re definitely not wet. Nope.

After another minute you take a deep breath, and even though the accompanying wave of pheromones makes you want to punch the wall, you manage to keep your eyes normal. “Okay, let’s go” He obliges, and you give him room to unlock the door.

Turns out, Tantu is the DJ from the club. One of the many of Joosts friends that had been there that night. You step into is in fact a very real studio full of very real equipment you couldn't even begin to guess the purpose of.

Tantu daps Joost up with noticeable warmth and welcomes you into the space without fuss. It’s clear any friend of Joost’s is a friend of Tantu and soon he leaves you to return to stabbing at his computer. Joost shows you to his own in the opposite corner.

Right off the bat, you realize any assumptions you might have had about Joost had been wrong as he hands you the most expensive looking pair of headphones you've ever seen and proceeds to play you his entire studio album released just over a month ago.

At the club he had said ‘huge artiest’ so jokingly, so flirtatiously, somehow managing to be modest mid-brag. You hadn’t known whether to believe him. You had hoped it would be true, but you hadn't really expected it.

Here, now, in the span of fourteen songs it becomes abundantly clear he’s not just some soundcloud rapper, not a wannabe star. He’s a real one.

He tells you a little about each song before he plays it. Who helped him the most in the end (mostly Tantu), where he was when he started writing it (so many places, he travels a lot), how he sampled this for this song and this for that song. He is deeply proud but you can tell there is also a layer of nervousness, like he truly wants you to like it.

You sing along to Fryslan Bop, the one from the club, and he laughs hysterically as you try and fail to imitate the sound of Dutch lyrics you can’t understand to the best of your memory.

Finally, you finish and he seems to be waiting for a review.

“I couldn’t understand almost any of that, sorry to say. Only fuck, the handful of other English words, and Joost Klein. That really is your favorite lyric isn't it?” He shrugs happily. “But I didn't need to. I liked it. It made me feel… things. You have a lot of range in your sound. All the festivals I went to this summer and nothing sounded like this.”

He’s grinning ear to ear. “Did you go to Pinkpop? I got to play this year!”

“Yes! I definitely didn't see you though, I would have remembered.”

He nods sagely. “Must have been a different day.”

You want to ask about the sad song in the middle of the album. Florida-something. So different from the upbeat tracks before and after. Somehow though, it feels like you can’t, like you shouldn't, and you let it lie.

“All right! What’s next?”

Joost remains flirtatious over the afternoon but it’s dramatically toned down compared to your last encounter. Maybe it’s just how he behaves normally, without the booze and the high of the club. Maybe it's shyness given Tantu within earshot. Either way, you have no such reservations.

“Y’know, I was half expecting it to be all talk. Like, I wondered if ‘come to my studio’ was code for my place or yours?” Tantu coughs in the corner and a blush creeps up Joost’s neck. His scent kicks up and you're reminded why flirting right now isn’t actually a good idea.

Still, getting reactions out of Joost is a wonderful pastime and you can't help yourself. “This is so much better, this stuff is amazing, I’m serious. I think I’m gonna join the groupies.” From the corner of your eye you can see Tantu put on headphones. Joost looks rightfully smug.

Hmm, not shy then. Smug is good too.

After another hour of poking around in the files, you propose early dinner. Joost seems kind of surprised but suggests a few spots nearby. Maybe he expected you to bail again. To be fair, you’ve never stuck around this long before.

Tantu declines to join, citing too much to do. A suspicious answer, but you won't complain if he wants to let you be alone with Joost.

Joost leads you to an Italian restaurant of all places. It’s a short walk but from the corner of your eye you catch him almost reach for your hand no less than four times. You don’t reach back, pretend not to notice. He hasn’t touched you since this morning when he crowded you against the door and you wish he would again but watching him squirm is so much fun.

The October sun has already gone down and the neon sign for Antonio’s glows like a beacon on a street with few other lights. Joost stops to stare up at it. “Can you uh…can you eat garlic?”

What are you gonna do with this guy?

“No, I'll die.” He whips his head around. “Really?! Fuck, sorry, I wasn’t thinking, I know another place-.” You can’t keep a straight face. “No, I’m kidding. C’mon I’m hungry.” He follows, sputtering.

They must peg you for a couple because they automatically seat you at a table in the corner away from other customers. As you peruse the menu, Joost is unusually quiet. His eyes keep flicking up to you as you read. The waitress comes to take your order and his eyebrows disappear into his bangs when you ask for pasta. He’s still staring once she leaves and you can’t stand it any more.

“Dude, I can't drink blood all the time.”

He chokes on his water.

This is apparently the permission he needs to unleash the legion of questions that have been brewing since the fateful moment you rubbed up on his dick and disappeared into the night. Joost proceeds to take inventory of your personal brand of vampire with a thoroughness you did not expect. You really should have, considering the way his heart picks up every time anything vaguely vampiric takes place.

He’s a bit of a nerd about it actually.

“So you eat regular food?”

Yes.

“Do you have to drink blood?”

Yes.

“Do you have fangs?”

Yes.

“It doesn’t look like you have fangs.”

They’re retracted.

“Re..tracted.”

Not full length right now.

“Oh. Can you turn invisible?”

No.

“Can you brainwash humans?”

No. What?

“Can you turn into a bat?”

No!

“Okay, okay! How often do you have to drink blood?”

You tell him what you’ve found to be true over the years.

Blood doesn’t seem to be necessary for actual nutrition, but the longer you go without it the more you crave it, and ultimately the more forceful you become when you finally take what you need. It makes you feel healthier, it gives you energy, but beyond any of that it’s just an urge you always have.

Abstaining for very long only leads to bad times for your unwilling donors when you finally give in. Indulging about twice a week seems to be the best for keeping people out of the hospital.

By the time the food arrives, Joost is looking suspiciously horny. Smells like it too. Resisting the tug at the back of your eyes is already becoming a practiced routine. He doesn’t seem the least bit deterred by the casual mention of violence and you wonder if you could ever tell Joost about that night.

The thought gets flicked aside as quickly as it came.

No one can ever know what you’ve done and it’s honestly crazy to be letting him in at all. Everything you have come to accept can’t be part of your life, everything you left behind, it was to protect you- you did it to survive.

With Joost, it’s almost like those rules have gone out the window. You don’t know what about him has you wanting to be so honest. He may be unfairly hot and the only person who has never freaked out on you but where is the self preservation?

You’re probably going to have to move again.

Joost has more questions but you’re curious about him. He’s Dutch, he’s beautiful, he’s not actually a poser, he clearly has a danger kink, but who is he?

Somehow, though he’s bright red again, the first thing out of his mouth is that he is not Dutch. He is from Fryslân! Joost tells you a little bit about where he grew up, when he first moved to Amsterdam, how he used to do Youtube and how he first met Tantu. You let him talk and set to work making a dent in your noodles.

Everything Joost tells you helps paint a picture, but to your curiosity, he is quick to skate over most of his past. Anything more than a handful of years ago gets more and more vague and it becomes clear there's something he’s avoiding.

You don’t see why he would be holding out on you, it’s not like you haven’t been telling him all your secrets. Well, maybe not all of them. Whatever.

The Florida song tickles at the back of your mind and you don’t press it.

“I’m down to one noodle, wanna Lady and the Tramp this shit?”

Sadly, though he accepts with enthusiasm, the noodle breaks and you don’t get your arrabiata kiss. He checks his phone while you wait for the bill and curses under his breath. “What is it?” you mumble through your napkin.

“Tantu was just being polite earlier. He wanted to work on more stuff after dinner but I didn’t see the message.” You begin to wonder what that means for your evening but Joost is already smiling again as he slips the phone back into his pocket. “Oh well, Tantu always forgives me. We’ll do it later. Wanna go through the park on the way back?”

Your stomach gives a little flip. “Yeah.”

The last vestiges of the sunset are long gone and the park is deathly quiet. The fog has been so thick for so long that the grass is soaked, glistening under the lamplight and stretching out on either side of the path to form dark fields of glitter.

“So, is it a date this time?” He asks innocently.

You try not to trip over nothing.

You want it to be a date. It really shouldn't be, you shouldn't let people know you, but for so long it hasn’t even been an option and Joost is so much more than an option. You’ve never met anyone like him.

“Yes.”

He grabs your hand and every hair on your body stands on end. It’s an innocent touch, all things considered, but you know where this is going and finally, finally, something is happening. It’s a wonder you didn’t end up in his bed that night at the club. He so clearly wanted you, and you were just as ready to let him hit it against the wall in the alley if he’d asked. This time, you're not running.

He swings your hands as you walk, trying and failing to keep the smile off his face. Every ounce of your attention is zeroed-in on the way his big hand curls around yours, but it’s also becoming impossible not to notice the emptiness around you.

The surface of the pond is mirror-smooth and the trees stand lifeless as you wander deeper into the park, like everything is holding its breath. You are utterly alone and the crunching of your shared footsteps seems to echo.

Forgetting you're an apex predator, one would almost worry about what is lurking in the shadows. It’s fun to suspend your disbelief, let the atmosphere affect you and pretend that Joost is your only hope against the creatures of the night. You grip his hand tighter and he grips back, giving a little squeeze then lacing his fingers between your own.

The path continues along the water and under a bridge. Low but wide, the street that goes over must be a main thoroughfare yet not a single car can be heard. Joost’s puffs of breath are all the more audible as you enter the void of the tunnel underneath.

The shadows are deep, unnaturally so, and you can only half make out the patchwork of graffiti. The lamp at the exit seems farther than it should be and it gives you a thrill, still indulging in your supernatural fantasy. You press your side up against Joost, letting the closeness be a comfort even though you are nothing but excited.

He stops in place suddenly, catching you by the hand, and pulls you to his chest. He wraps an arm around your back and squeezes. “Why are we walking so fast?”

The light is so low but you can still make out his features, pink, golden, and perfect, looking at you bemused. “It’s spooky out here, don’t you think?” You half-whisper. “If I’m out here, who knows what else is too.” It’s said with a smile and Joost grins right back.

“Don’t worry, we’re safe if we’re together.” His eyes dart to your lips and back up before he speaks again. “Slow down for me?” In the stillness of the night, his heartbeat is deafening. His normally crystal eyes are dark, pupils dilating more and more with his climbing pulse. It’s a shame he can’t hear yours. A feeling you refuse to name pricks at your chest and you crane your neck up.

He beats you to it.

Your mouths meet and color explodes behind your lids. If his scent was powerful, the taste of him is something else entirely. Joost groans against your lips and releases your hand to wrap both arms around you, crushing you close.

When he has you where he wants you, one hand comes up to cradle the back of your head and he licks at the seam of your mouth. You open for him and he licks further into you with a sigh.

It’s hard to keep up. Now that Joost finally has you in his arms he is greedy and the hot wet of his mouth threatens to eat you alive.

You don’t think you would mind if it did.

Joost is forced to pull away first, his laboured breath visible in the cold. You whine at the loss and his eyes widen. Need for air forgotten again, he peddles you backwards until your back hits the wall of the tunnel and he’s on you again. Joost kisses you deep, hard, pressing you into the concrete like you’re laid flat on a bed.

The kisses make their way down your neck and when your eyes open as he sucks at your collar bone, it is to see that the passage and all its vandalism register in perfect detail. You never even felt the tug but your eyes are fully shifted.

He lifts his head to capture your mouth again and you can’t mistake the infatuation in his eyes when he notices your own.

It ruins you. You could never say no to a face like that. What’s more, you don’t want to. His devotion is so apparent and this is only your first time together. If he weren't pressing you into the wall, it would have you on your knees.

You kiss back, hungry. Maybe if you swallow him whole, you can keep him forever. It’s hard to ignore how good he smells. His arousal has been simmering all day but now it’s kicked up to a thousand and every inhale sends a pang to your cunt. Your panties are toast.

The hand cushioning your head from the wall comes around to cup your cheek as Joost tries his best to drink your little noises. He has plenty of his own. Words too. Little yes’s and encouragements when he slips his knee between your thighs and you grind down.

His length is hard against your tummy, bigger than you realized when it was against your ass before.

The rush of blood under his skin is almost tangible- so quick with the frantic pace of his heart. The hot length of his throat is flush with it, and the most mouth-watering aroma curls lazily from the neck of his hoodie.

Your core throbs. Your teeth ache.

Joost’s fingers start to curl under the edge of your jacket, fumbling to get under the shirt. The cool air and his cold hands make you moan and he whimpers in response, grabbing you hard by both hips and grinding into you firmly. It turns your legs to jelly, and you have to break the kiss to catch your breath against his chest.

Too overcome to focus on a rhythm, he thrusts mindlessly every couple beats as his lips make their way slowly down your temple. Even through all the clothing, the hot length of him is like a brand over your navel. He licks over your ear and all the air you managed to recover whooshes right out again.

Joost’s shameless enthusiasm, his desperation, has your head spinning. His scent has enveloped you completely- arousal so thick you can almost taste it with his throat so close to your face. You want to taste it. He nibbles at your earlobe tenderly and your stomach swoops.

Spit pools on your tongue and it’s dawning on you that there might be a problem.

His lips start to travel down your neck a second time. Open-mouthed kisses and tiny nips followed by the flat of his tongue laving over each mark, soothing each time it makes you grip him tighter. Then, without warning, his mouth drops to that same spot on your shoulder- the same as in the club, and he bites down.

The thrill it sends through you ricochets down to your pussy, clenching around nothing, and back up again in a split second. Your fangs drop.

You lunge forward before you can think.

You can’t think, actually. Joost is on you, around you, and he might as well be in you with the way he fills up every corner of your awareness making higher functions impossible. He jerks back, surprised at the speed of the movement, and your teeth sink into three layers of hoodie.

It tastes like the pasta sauce he dripped on himself at dinner.

Your gut swoops in an entirely different way as your head clears all too suddenly and you unlock your jaw and shove him off you, hand slapping over your mouth. Joost staggers back a few steps at the force, nearly falling on his ass. He looks petulant, big eyes pleading like you’ve just taken away his favorite toy.

“What's wrong?” He huffs, already closing the distance again. You lurch away to maintain the space and confusion twists his brow. Joost tugs at the neck of his hoodie, tucking his chin to look at it and finding two jagged holes and a patch of dampness.

His brow goes slack in understanding. “Oh, it’s okay, come here.” He reaches for you again. “You know I want you to bite me right?”

Your eyes widen and you dodge his grabby hands. You don’t dare remove your own hand from your mouth to speak. Really, you should have known. In retrospect, it was obvious. Should have known from the moment he bit you the first time in the club that he really did want you to bite him back. Fucking vampire kink fucking weirdo.

Not that you’re entirely complaining.

Finally Joost stops reaching for you, pouting, and waits. You don’t trust yourself to speak for several minutes. It would be better if you left, ran away again in case the sanity doesn’t hold. You don’t want to do that to him again though, not a third time. You have to get a grip.

Slowly, you remove your hand and he perks up. “Sorry, about your hoodie. I- , We- , We shouldn’t do that. You won’t like it.”

“What, why not? I think I would.”

“Believe me, it hurts.”

His trademark blush and grin combo is firmly back in place. “I don't care, it’s kind of hot.”

You pause, unsure how to counter without laying out the details of how you don’t want to commit murder a second time. “It’s like with the eyes. With you, I can’t really help what I’m doing, can’t control myself. It would probably be rough. I might hurt you. I mean, it always hurts but I think I might hurt you for real.”

He looks contemplative, though you notice the blush hasn’t diminished. “Is it really that different with me?”

“Yeah. I don’t know why. I think- , I think I just need to get used to you. I probably can’t ever bite you, but if we’re gonna get cozy without me flipping my shit, then I think we might need an adjustment period.” You immediately realize what you said. “That is, uh, if you want to keep doing this sometimes.”

He doesn’t leave you hanging. “I do! You said this is a date, I want more dates.” His earnest expression becomes immediately suggestive. “If I have to wait to show you my stuff, that's okay. Can’t help it if I drive you crazy.”

Oh, he’s a bastard. “Whatever you say, spaghetti shirt. You’re gonna need to stop biting me too, I can’t be held responsible for what that makes me want to do to you.”

“Noted.” He chokes through a laugh.

“Alright, let's go back. I’m fucking cold.”

The second Joost had kissed you, all fantasies of supernatural ambiance were forgotten. Now that you're separated again, they are at the front of your mind once more. The shadows look like more than shadows and the density of the fog feels designed to conceal something lurking beyond. You feel the need to protect Joost, probably from yourself, but it’s nicer to imagine something else so you let the fantasy reform.

The twinge of unease from the misty morning on your balcony is back and you do your best to stomp it out. You just need to take it slow. You can still do this if you take it slow and let yourself get used to him.

The walk is mostly quiet. Joost seems thoughtful and you try not to hold his hand too hard. When you make it back to the studio, you unlock your bike and try not to imagine the night swallowing him when you go your separate ways. When you turn back to him, Joost swoops in again for another kiss.

It’s only a peck, he’s giving you the space you asked for, but then his hand grabs your own and brings it to his mouth. It seems like he's going to kiss that too, goofy as he is, but quick as blinking he gives your knuckle a nip and winks before doing a one-eighty and starting down the street.

You clutch your hand to your chest like you’ve been burned.

He bit you!

Again!

He keeps biting you and now he's walking calmly with his back turned like it doesn’t make you want to chase him down and pin him. Like it doesn't make you want to take him there on the pavement and tear into him.

Is this his idea of compromise?

“See you later!” He waves before disappearing around the corner.

It’s hard to decide whether to blush or go pale.

You wonder, not for the last time, what the fuck you are doing.

There's no chance to stew too long because the very next day Joost is already taking up all your attention. He hits you up at ten. You're naked in front of the mirror brushing your teeth when he calls.

“Hey, what are you doing?” So chipper.

You spit into the sink. “Just work, was gonna go to a cafe.”

“Can I come with?” He is possibly the most distracting person in the world for you, if last night was any indication, but he sounds so eager you can’t find it in you to say no.

Joost meets you at your usual cafe down the street. A place you often find yourself working these days when your cozy apartment, though a good refuge from the persistent rain, becomes just a little too monotonous.

There is another moment of acclimation when you meet him out front, but you manage to keep your eyes from changing. You lean into him, forehead against his chest to keep anyone from seeing in case you can’t keep a handle on it while he smooths a hand down your back, heart noticeably fast and scent stirring at the closeness.

Anyone bothering to pay attention would think you were any normal couple embracing. After a few minutes when nothing happens, you straighten. Joost almost looks disappointed.

He swoops in rather dramatically to pay when you order at the counter and you let him, bemused. He wants to know whether you’ve ever tried poffertjes and when the food arrives he feeds you one off his plate, looking only vaguely horny when you wrap your lips around it.

Joost asks you how you like the Netherlands and you find yourself telling him how long you really haven't been here. Before you know it, you're telling him all the places you've lived over the past few years, distracted from your work already.

He has so many questions and he drinks up your stories eagerly, relays some of his own about some of the same places. He really does travel a lot.

You get so caught up that you retrace your journey all the way back to your home country. When you pause, he notices you’ve exhausted your list. “That’s where you're from, right? You have the accent.”

You hesitate, but telling him where you're from won’t actually bring him any closer to knowing what you did. “Yeah, that’s home.”

“Why did you leave? Why so many places?”

Fuck.

“Is it because-” he pokes at his canines with the tips of his index fingers “vampire?” Relief washes over you. It’s the truth technically, more than he will ever know, and you don't really have to explain it. He’s filling in the gaps himself.

“Yeah, got too hard to hide.”

When you part after many hours and little work, he gives you the tiniest, softest kiss, takes your hand, and brushes his mouth over the same knuckle before gently biting it once more.

The cafe becomes a pattern for the two of you, him showing up more often than you would have thought he had time for. He’s better at letting you work after that first day. Often brings his own things to work on, mostly concert visuals, and becomes deeply immersed in editing and drawing when he isn’t serving as your unwitting tech-support.

When you’re not working, he takes up your time all the same. He texts you constantly. A stupid picture of his dog, of Tantu, an edgy meme.

You're not used to it. It's been years since anyone has texted you at all. Even your boss just emails. Most often, the texting is to suss out where you are and if you're busy.

He seems determined to take you to what you're realizing is every place he usually spends his free time. His favorite restaurants, his favorite parks, his favorite bars. He's so bright, so gleeful in almost everything that he does. Joost shows you things just to see if you like them too.

One night he shows up at your door, six-pack in hand.

“Hi! …How do you know where I live?”

He stares back with eyes that look huge through the black frames slid low on his nose. “You sent me a pin? I thought you wanted me to meet you.”

A glance at your phone reveals the sent pin and several highly enthusiastic reply texts that you very much had not noticed. You meant to send him the link to the place you were meeting tomorrow. Fuck your life.

“Uh, I didn’t mean to. Hope I didn't make you drop anything to come here.”

“No, you didn't! What are you up to? Wanna hang out?” Joost almost talks like a kid. The bottles clink at the way he wiggles while he speaks and it only adds to the effect despite the way he towers over you like you're the child.

That night you proceed to have the first of many regular movie marathons with Joost. Keeping your hands to yourself is hard with him on your couch all cozy and warm, oozing pheromones, but he mostly behaves and so do you.

Another night, he takes you to his favorite skate park where you don't do any skating. You just sit and watch everyone else and eat ice cream that melts way too fast while he tells you about someone named Nathan.

Another night after that he brings you to his place where you play COD until he gives up trying to teach you and you talk until the sun comes up. It's more difficult being in Joost’s flat, everything smells like him and it was fucking mean of him to wear grey sweatpants the first time you come over. Still, he gives you space, not pushing like you can tell he wants to.

It’s kind of sweet actually. This stranger you met at the club, grinded on at the club, trying to work with you and be delicate like being delicate matters. It all felt like some kind of weird extended hook-up at first, but the longer this goes on the more it feels like Joost wants to know you.

No one has been allowed to know you in a long time.

You want to know him too- know more of his favourite places, his favorite movies, his favourite foods. Know what it is he isn't saying every time you talk about the past.

It’s beginning to feel like you will. Like this thing you have going isn't so crazy.

Seeing Joost starts to fill your days, replacing the sporadic trips to the club that filled the human-shaped hole in your chest with a companionship that made you forget there ever was a hole. You didn’t realize how much of your time was so empty before.

Of course he isn’t always around. Often disappears for days on end to the studio and long weekends away for concerts. But, he always comes looking for you when he’s done and no matter what else you get up to together, you always find yourselves back at the cafe. You’ve carved out your own territory there, a table where no one else ever seems to sit as if they know it's meant for the two of you.

One morning you sit at it, waiting for Joost.

He strolls in later than usual, humming what sounds a lot like Numa Numa as he approaches with an extra spring in his step. He plops down unceremoniously in his usual seat across from you, fishes around in one cavernous pocket, and deposits a steel ball-gag in front of your croissant and coffee with a clatter.

“Hey, good morning. What’s this?”

He rubs his hands together like some kind of cartoon villain. “Good morning! I’m so glad you asked! I was just thinking since, y’know, sharp teeth problem, you could wear this and then we could do whatever we want!” His eyebrows wiggle furiously. “Well, I guess we wouldn’t be able to kiss, but you know what I mean.”

“Uhhhhh.”

“I know you said you just need to get used to me but this way you don’t have to!” His giggly, somewhat bashful self of the first few weeks knowing him has melted away to leave a Joost with honestly very little shame. It was gradual, and he was never too reserved to begin with, but these days he is incorrigible. You must be rubbing off on him.

Sadly, this one isn’t up your alley.

“I’m gonna be real, that’s not happening. Have you ever tried one of these? It’s a good idea but I can’t handle that much drool.”

“Come on, please? I won’t laugh at you I swear. And honestly-” He leans in close. “I needed to eat you out like yesterday. Can we try it?”

As much as you don’t care that everyone in the cafe has been looking at you since the second Joost whipped out a ball gag, you also don’t want to get kicked out. This is your favorite spot.

“No, put that away!”

Joost takes it in stride but as the days pass, you can tell he’s far from done with his scheming.

At the movies and the automat and everywhere else he takes you, at his apartment and at yours where you’ve both started expecting each other, he is always nudging. Tempting you more and more while still following the rules. Little flirtations and kisses and those goddamn tiny little bites you never quite get used to. The tender press of his canines around your knuckle make your stomach swoop without fail.

You're sure Joost knows what he’s doing, what with the way he smiles that same little smile every time.

Bastard.

It’s not like you can blame him for any of it. You want him too.

One day though, less than a week before Christmas, Joost is forced to pause his efforts. It’s a cold and gray afternoon, and though there’s no snow on the ground, every shop and every home has wreaths and candles on doors and in windows. It’s impossible not to notice what time of year it is.

When Joost comes knocking, all bundled and breathless and confused why you aren’t at the cafe, he can tell immediately that something is wrong.

It’s a bad day, really no other way to put it. Today is your little sister’s birthday and for the third time ever, you won’t be there.

She was a brat really, but you loved her and she is one of the few things that always makes you think of home.

That wasn’t true at first, when you spent the first few months missing all your friends and family something awful. But after you literally killed and ate someone, the fear of discovery and the fear of hurting them drove your travels farther and farther until before long, you felt like you were doing the right thing.

Besides, the world was too big and too detailed to miss out on. Too vibrant in all of your new senses to spend your time sulking over what could never be. Most days now, home was just a passing thought.

Still, your sister never fully left your mind, and on this one day every year you have been gone, you can never help but let your mind drift over what is and what could have been.

Joost can tell the second you open the door. You let him in without fuss, but when you answer his probing questions with little more than noncommittal grunts and squeeze him far too tight when he goes in for a hug, he starts to adjust his demeanor.

He follows you into the kitchen and you shut your laptop, still open with the work you had been using for distraction.

“So, you don’t usually pass up the gift of my presence, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m good. I just have a lot going on with work. Sorry I forgot to tell you I wasn’t gonna be there.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

A pause.

“I've seen you stressed about work. Usually you’re asking me to help you find a file or proofread an email…”

“Yeah, okay, yeah. I’m a little distracted.”

“With what?”

“With-” you allow yourself to lean against him. He’s saddled up behind you as you finally come to a stop in the middle of the kitchen. His arms come around your waist and you let out a bone-rattling sigh.

There’s few places you’d rather be than in his arms, but the knowledge that even that is something you're still trying to allow yourself to have makes it hard for it to feel like a comfort right now.

“-with things at home. There are things I left behind that I can’t go back to.”

“You wish you could?”

“Sometimes.”

“You miss someone?”

“Yeah.”

Fuck it. There’s so much you’ve already told him. Why not this.

“My sister.”

His grip relaxes slightly. You didn’t realize it had become tense. “Oh. I didn’t know you had a sister.”

“Yeah.”

“I have a sister too. I don’t see her very often but it’s not because I can’t or anything. I don’t know what it would be like to not have the option.”

“Yeah.” You sniff. It seems to be the only thing you can say.

He squeezes you tight again when he hears it. “Wanna…talk about it?”

“No, not right now. I’ve been thinking about it all day and there’s nothing I can do so I might as well stop.”

“Okay. Wanna do something with me? Wanna watch a movie?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, how about Spiderman?”

He knows you so well by now.

Joost coaxes you back to his apartment. Away from your work and to what you have to admit after many movie marathons is a home cinema setup superior to your own. The perfection of the couch-pillow-foot rest-cup holder placement leaves you unable to turn down the journey when the ride is only ten minutes.

Tonight, you watch Far From Home. Though you always cycle through the the Spiderman movies, it’s the one you saw with your friends the night you turned, and somehow it's the one you always come back to.

You’ve never told Joost you prefer it but he’s noticed anyway. Tonight, he pulls it out before you can ask.

By the time Peter Parker gets knocked out by Mysterio and accidentally arrives in the Netherlands via train, you're in Joost’s lap, clinging on with arms slung around his neck and face pressed into his chest, barely watching. Being sad does wonders for not being riled by his closeness.

He holds you right back, hands at your waist, occasionally pressing light kisses to your hair as he comments on the inaccuracies of the movie’s Dutch portrayal.

“Y’know we do love soccer but honestly, no one is so super happy like this, especially not if you’re stuck in jail.”

You just hold him tighter. It’s been hours now in Joost’s presence and finally, you feel yourself unwinding. Just like always, Joost is the best distraction you’ve ever encountered. Your teeth itch of course, what with your face so close to his throat, but you ignore it so you can savor the feeling of him wrapped around you.

Joost is sweeter than you could have ever asked for. So often wants to know about your problems and offers up his time to solve them. Provides his presence and his affection when he can’t.

Not that you have many problems. Your tech issues present the majority.

Still, here and now, he's trying to fix everything just like he always does and it is with a deep shudder from yourself that he starts to rub your shoulders. His hands smooth down your back to your hips and back up again, reminiscent of the moments in front of cafes and shops where you always have your moment of initial acclimation.

Now, there is no pressure to the moment, no rush to get yourself under control. All you have to do is relax further into his hold and let his big hot hands melt sensation into your flesh.

A sort of tingle accompanies his hands wherever they go. Up and down and up again. They knead at the muscles of your lower back before working their way up either side of your spine with gentle compressions of his knuckles. One big palm cups the back of your neck when his ministrations make it to the top and he takes a moment to inhale deeply from your hair.

The motions repeat over and over, up and down and back again. You would be letting him know exactly how much his efforts are appreciated if those efforts weren’t completely melting your mind.

Lingering in that liminal goo-brain space for what feels like hours, it occurs to you that every pass over your hips is gradually getting lower. Every time he works his way down your spine, his thick fingers splay just a little further over the swell of your ass.

You let him do it, fully on board with the feelings it’s inspiring in your core and too strung-out to think of why there might be any reason not to indulge.

Before long, his hands are fully cupping your ass with every pass. Each time he spends a moment squeezing lightly before continuing the cycle. After a couple more circuits, he finally breaks the pattern and stops to hold each cheek in one huge hand, pulling back from your hair to make eye contact, asking silent permission.

You hold his gaze, unable to think further than the lazy, slow, creeping want he inspires. He made you so comfortable, so pliant and soft, why would you ever do anything other than what he wants?

You slump forward to mouth at his jaw, forgetting yourself, and his heart stutters.

His hands slide lower to the back of each thigh and his fingertips brush over your slit. It’s the first time he’s ever done anything quite so direct since that moment under the bridge and it makes you moan so loud that he pulls back once more to get a read on your face.

“Is this okay?”

“Mmm, yeah.” It’s hard to remember why such a question makes sense. His fingertips, so close to where you need them, make higher processes a herculean effort. Still, your brain is the stuff of legends, and you pull it together to consider what he means.

“Fuck, uhhnh, gimme a sec.”

His hands don’t leave their precarious position, but make no further move. In the meantime, his mouth fills in the gap.

‘You know I bought something else. After the ball gag I mean. I was thinking handcuffs kinda do the same thing but, y’know, less drool.”

He smiles sheepishly.

“We don’t have to use them, I just wanted to tell you. It could keep your mouth away from me if I stayed down here.” he squeezes with both hands for emphasis.

“Oh.” With the strong departure from the sadness that had been consuming you and the reminder of all Joost represents, you are quickly coming back to awareness. Your gums ache in a way they haven’t for quite a while now, the tug behind your eyes making a return. “I- how would that work?”

“If I cuff you to the headboard and stay down here-”

Another squeeze for demonstrative purposes,

“-then your teeth will never come near me. We can’t kiss, after a point, but we can do other stuff. There are a lot of things I want to do to you.”

“Okay, I’m with you, but you would need like a steel headboard or something. I’ve seen the IKEA particle board slats you have going on.”

“I may have- uh, I may have bought that too.”

Oh he is a freak.

Your smile is all Joost needs to scramble to shut off the movie and scoop you up like it’s nothing, mouth on yours like a man starved. You cling to his shoulders as he slowly walks you back through the apartment. It’s a miracle you make it when he can’t be bothered to look where he’s going.

Somehow, he neither bangs your elbow nor your knee on a door frame and all of a sudden the world shifts as you are deposited onto his bed with a bounce.

True to his word, it’s a new bed. Same dark blue comforter and faded Minecraft bed sheets but a new frame with solid metal bars. He lets you look while he fiddles with something on the bookshelf before turning back to you with a ‘clink’.

The handcuffs, equally metal and solid, glint in the low light of his bedroom. You’ve never been into bondage per se, but just about anything Joost wants, you find yourself wanting too.

His enthusiasm never gets old. Even if the bed and the cuffs are just a means to an end, Joost picked them out for you, he picked them out and bought them because after all this time dancing around each other, he still wants to fuck you so badly.

The tug behind your eyes is irresistible like never before. This time, you don’t fight it.

Joost takes you in, eyes wide and wanton, fixed on your own dark pools. He gives a shuddering sigh and unclicks the cuffs. “Oh, liefje, let’s start with this.”

The simple endearment used for the first time short-circuits any intelligent response. There are no words. You scoot up the bed, overcome by the word still bouncing around your skull and the hunger evident in his scent.

Laying back slowly, you lift your arms above your head as he crawls over you.

Something about the position feels a little strange, but the thought leaves as quickly as it came when you’re distracted by cold metal clicking into place. He adjusts the cuffs gently, one on each wrist with the chain hooked around a thick steel post of the headboard. A good tug proves them to be durable and Joost lets out a breath you didn’t know he had been holding.

Though the bedside lamp is dim, the blue of his eyes practically glows as he removes his glasses and lays them on the nightstand to admire what’s laid out before him.

It’s obvious all too soon that there are drawbacks to the position. You can’t lean up to kiss him, at least not much, can’t reach out to touch him and tuck a bright blond strand behind his ear or cup a cheek and trace his pouty bottom lip.

You need to, if you're being honest. Need to touch him and hold him and kiss him and tell him there is no one else you would ever want to do this with.

You don’t even know what that means, since there haven’t exactly been other options, but you know it’s true.

Joost watches your squirming with increasing amusement as you test the limits of your bonds. Finally, mercifully, he parts your thighs and presses flush against you to capture your mouth. Your legs wrap around him immediately, holding him the only way you can. His scent is just as potent as it was that night under the bridge and quickly becoming stronger. It’s a good thing you’re cuffed because your willpower is already softening.

As overwhelmed as you are already, your teeth haven't dropped yet and you're thankful as he all but steals the breath from you. The increasingly desperate press of your mouths is all that's keeping you from begging him to get on with it.

You never thought you would be one to beg, but here with Joost above you, presence all encompassing and hips slotted into the cradle of your own like he belongs there, you think you would.

In the end, you don’t have to. Joost pulls away all too suddenly and the hands braced at either side of your head come down to toy at the hem of your shirt.

“Can I?”

“Please!”

The transparent need in your demand short-circuits him for a moment. He says nothing, huge pupils unblinking for several long seconds before they snap down to fix on the stripe of skin that gets wider and wider as tattooed fingers slowly peel the shirt up your stomach. It would have been smart to get undressed first, but you’re both a bit beyond reason and you do your best to help as he drags it up above your head to tangle around your wrists.

He pauses again to drink you in, more bare skin than he’s had the opportunity to see yet. So much of the past months has been little more than kisses. His hands trace their way back down, over your sternum and your belly, ignoring your bra for now, until they reach the hem of your lounge pants.

Joost doesn’t ask this time, just meets your eyes and takes the nod you give without words. He removes them much easier than the shirt and whips them away to land somewhere to be found later. Hot palms smooth up your thighs and a single finger hooks into the elastic waistband of your panties.

The whine you let out as soon as he does it sends him scrambling and they are quickly tossed away to join the pants.

Huge hands brace themselves against your inner thighs and you're made to bend your knees up to accommodate. It spreads you wide, everything on display. It’s been so long since anyone has seen you like this it’s borderline embarrassing. The way his scent picks up and his pupils nearly eclipse their blue border makes it all worth it.

He crawls forward to give you a single deep kiss.

“All good?” He breathes against your lips.

“All good.”

He shuffles back down and starts laying more kisses against your inner thighs.

You know exactly where this is going.

Joost’s overture that day in the cafe never strays too far from your mind. If you were wet before, now you’re positively dripping. It starts to run down your ass and you wonder if he will notice, see your desperation made flesh.

It’s unlikely, what with the way his eyes are shut tight and his brow is slack with bliss. He’s getting exactly what he wants.

Joost laves a hot stripe over the skin closest to the junction of your thigh, pauses for one maddening moment, then turns to lick into where you need him most without warning.

Your gasp is more of a shout.

He groans in response and hooks an arm around each thigh before you can squirm away, the wet, slippery friction on your clit so intense you almost try to. He starts out with deep, long licks directly over it before he goes anywhere else, straight to the punch without teasing.

After what feels like far too much and nowhere near enough, he gives one long lick through your folds and shifts his focus lower. He lingers over your entrance, the flat of his tongue seals tight to the rim, textured buds undulating against the delicate skin making you writhe. He does it again and again, taking breaks to pull back and run the tip around the edge, tracing and circling before latching to it yet again with a wet ‘smack’.

Normal breathing is becoming impossible and when your thighs have been tensed so long they start to shake, he dips it in.

There’s no telling what undoubtedly guttural noise you make because you are too busy wrestling with the sensation of blood blooming across your tongue and iron filling your sinuses. Every teasing nudge inside your pussy sends your fangs digging deeper into your lip.

The brief agitation from earlier has returned, but now you know what it is. There’s nothing actually wrong, it’s just so much harder to bite lying on your back. The urge you usually manage to suppress is now front and center of all thought. As always, pleasure seems inextricably tied to predation.

You need to pin Joost and bite him and feel him struggle but you also need his delicious weight on top of you and his hands around you and his tongue inside you and you can’t have both.

You feel insane.

Joost’s groans are heavy, the vibrations rolling through you as he lazily pumps his tongue deeper, nose grinding into your swollen clit. He settles into a pattern. Deep, languid tongue-fucking followed by licks to either sider of your bud, close but not close enough, before directly grinding the flat of his tongue into it a few times and then starting the process all over again.

The cuffs are fighting a battle of their own above you. Every time Joost switches targets the headboard gives a heavy creak.

You hardly notice. It’s taking all your remaining brain power just to try not to squeeze him too hard with your thighs. Though, it might be okay since every time you do he lets out a groan, far too pleased for what is probably a legitimate threat to his skull.

Blood drips down your chin now, your canines deep in your bottom lip when you hear it:

A shuffle.

A rustle.

A slight sway to the mattress.

He takes your clit between his lips and sucks hard. The bedsprings give a pathetic wheeze as your head slams back and your spine arches as a squeal rips out of you.

The rhythmic swaying picks up the pace.

When Joost finally gives you a second of reprieve to kiss at your thigh, hot heavy breaths fanning over you, the gentle swaying continues. Puzzled, you find the willpower to lift your head and shakily unlock your thighs from where they have become earmuffs.

It’s hard to place it at first, the incessant tongue back on your skin and sharp iron in your mouth more than distracting, but then you notice.

Gently,

slowly,

almost tenderly,

Joost’s hips roll down into the mattress.

It might be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

The way his brow has started to knit as he ruts instinctively, pleasure seeping up his spine as he gets off on your own. The way his hips jerk softly like he isn’t even aware, like his body is just making him do it. The way his sweats have slid down to reveal the dark material of his boxers, snug against the muscles of his ass that are working insistently.

You can’t handle it. You have to do something, anything. Your hands whip down to bury your fingers in his hair as you grind up into his mouth and lose your mind.

Your fingers in…his hair?

He flinches. Makes a pathetic noise as he withdraws his tongue. The sudden hard stop to the blissful sensation all the more highlights the bright red sheeting from his brow.

In your pleasure, the cuffs ripped like paper. Both loops are still attached but the chain, now broken, swings freely from your right wrist, bloody from where it lanced him deep across the temple.

Oh.

Fuck.

Joost has never bled in front of you before. Not a single scratch or cut, not even a hangnail.

It's like hearing colors or tasting music. Now that the source of his scent isn’t trapped under his skin, it is so much more potent than you could have ever prepared for. You could never have built a tolerance to this.

The sudden certainty of a guaranteed meal, the knowledge that your strength is superior, that you've won, it overwhelms you in an instant and the sureness of it almost leaves you calm. You're going to get what you want. There's nothing that could possibly stop you. And why should it?

The only thing that keeps you from destroying him on the spot is the look on his face.

It’s all happening within seconds. He’s still mid-recoil. His face screws up now that the pain is starting to register, blank confusion twisting to stricken agony.

It’s nothing like you imagined.

Those nights alone when you think about Joost and can’t quite control that deep, savage part of your mind, the part that's been there ever since you woke up bloody in the middle of the street all those years ago, you never imagined it like this.

That inhuman part of you was sure his pain would be something beautiful. Even if the logical majority of you protested, somewhere deep down, you always expected it to be true.

Maybe it’s the added shock of the sudden blow, maybe it’s just the wrong kind of pain, but the hurt on his face is terrible.

Not pleasure-pain like when you press on a bruise you accidentally gave him the day before and he can’t help the way his eyelids flutter, not like when your sharp nails dig into his back when you go in for a kiss and he picks you up and you have to hold on tight as he groans into your mouth.

Just pain.

Your heart folds in.

You’re rolling off the bed and shooting to your feet before Joost can even look at you, too busy staring at the blood on his fingers as he draws them back from his forehead, shaking.

It’s physically painful to turn away. You grab your phone with enough force to rattle the night stand and make yourself walk towards the door. Every sense is cranked to eleven and every reflex and muscle fiber is dialed in, all strength and no precision as you work against your instincts. Every base impulse is screaming at you to turn back and take what is right in front of you.

There’s no running away this time, just brute force resistance.

There’s so much blood.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m gonna get someone, just stay there. Stay there.” The words are choked as you use every ounce of willpower to force yourself into the hall. You don’t know if he hears you and you can’t afford to look back to check.

His gasps of pain almost sound erotic now without the visual evidence of his suffering and it makes you want to turn around and devour him.

When you recognize the thought, you hate yourself just a little.

You wrestle into your long winter coat and manage not to break the front door as you unlock it. Joost calls out your name just before it slams shut behind you.

Outside in the cold, damp, wind whipped darkness, there is enough of a disconnect from what’s inside that you can feel control come back online.

You want to run but you make yourself walk, thankful your coat covers your bare ass, as you prioritize sending a cryptic but detailed text to 112 and then dialing the one other person that can possibly help. Tantu answers on the third ring.

“Tantu. I need you to check on Joost. I need you to go over to his place right now and it can’t wait.”

“What? What do you mean? Did he call you?”

“No it’s- Tantu please just do it. Please. Will you check on him?”

“Yes, yeah, I will, what’s going on?”

“Do you promise?”

“Yes! I’m putting on my coat! Tell me what’s wrong!”

“Please hurry, Tantu.”

You hang up, cutting off what sounds like a curse.

He’s a good friend, you can tell. It’s a good thing you have his number. You don’t know any of Joost’s other friends. Honestly, you barely know Tantu. Joost talks about them often and with love but you’ve just never met them.

It’s mostly Joost’s efforts to try not to spook you, to ease you into knowing him without pressure. You let it slip once that you try not to make close connections for practical reasons and he let up on group invites quickly, if a little disappointed. Anything to keep you around and unwilling to gamble with being the exception.

The trill of your phone makes you slow once more.

It’s Joost.

He’s okay. Okay enough to call at least. Hopefully emergency medical or Tantu gets there soon.

You don’t answer. You can’t.

Your phone continues to buzz as he calls again.

And then again.

You wanted to see if this could work, whatever this is. It felt possible once. Felt like one day you would say yes to meeting his friends, like you would feel close enough to ask him about his past and maybe even tell him the full truth about yours, felt like one day you might finally adjust enough to be able to love him properly.

Because you do love him.

You’ve known it and denied it but you do.

You do and it didn't stop you. Such a small mistake, made so easily and unconsciously and almost the end of his life.

You love him and that’s why as you walk down the street, completely enveloped in abyssal shadow, no moon in sight, you know that when you get home you’re going to pack your things.

#joost klein x reader #joost klein fanfic #joost x reader #joost klein smut #joost klein #my writing

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shiro-s2e2-erukinzu · 7 days ago

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Anime only watchers and people who aren't caught up with the Manga, BEWARE... Cuz I'm about to discuss Spy X Family Mission 113... You have been warned...! 👌

[SPOILERS AHEAD FROM THIS POINT ON]

This chapter was a cute one!! 😁 It was both fun and quite silly!! 🤭

I had a good time with today's chapter, so let's talk about it, shall we? 😄

This chapter begins with Damian trying to swat something away...!! 👀

It soon becomes very clear (if it wasn't already obvious to begin with) as to what exactly Damian was trying to swat away... 😌

...HIS THOUGHTS OF JEALOUSY TOWARDS ANYA'S NEW FRIENDS, FREDDY & TERTIUS...!!

And then, Becky proceeds to add fuel to the Damian's jealously fire...!! 👌😌:

BECKY, YOU ARE AN ABSOLUTE MENACE!!! 🤣😂🤣😂🤣😂🤣😂

I love how everything becomes Shojo-ified as Becky tells Damian about this, it's just so damn funny...!! 🤣🤣🤣

Later that night, Damian has a dream about fighting off his buzzing jealousy, but the buzzing soon fuses together into one giant monster!!! 😵 (I also really like there's a note that says that the monster's face spells out "buzz" in Japanese!! 😆):

Damian tried to fend off the monster, but it was all for naught as the monster defeats Damian & he wakes up from the nightmare...! After that, Damian tries to keep a cool head after waking up, then Emile and Ewen come by to check on him!! 😁 But to keep his friends from figure out what's really going on, he tells them that his "other friend" is actually the one with trouble, then Ewen and Emile have a revelation...:

OH MY GOODNESS, THESE TWO...! 👌😌

The next day, Ewen and Emile are looking into how to help Damian's "friend" out, but Ewen feels like there's no point in helping Damian with this because they're "no longer number one in the boss man's heart"...!! 😭 Emile brings Ewen back around to helping Damian out by telling him that they are the ones that Damian can on, so they decide to go ask Mr. Green for some help and he gives them some really good advice...!! 😁:

After that, Ewen and Emile tell Damian about what they learned from Mr. Green, they also added that he told them about something called a "Paradise Fist", when in actuality he was talking about a Paradigm Shift...!! 😅 Ewen then brings up that Damian's "friend" must really important to him, but Damian tells them that he isn't even close to that "friend" and tells Ewen and Emile that they are his true friends, which makes them both extremely happy!! 😊 Later that night, Damian dreams about the facing the monster (Mr. Buzz) again, but this time he's ready for him!! 😎:

With his Paradise Fist, Damian was able to successfully make peace with Mr. Buzz in his dreams so that he can rest easy now...!!:

The next day, Damian comes to school wearing a handcrafted of his Paradise Fist!!

Becky tells Damian that she thinks that his "Paradise Fist" is so uncool, but someone else sees it and thinks that it's cool...:

THAT'S RIGHT, IT'S ANYA WHO THOUGHT THAT DAMIAN'S PARADISE FIST IS COOL!!! 😆

Then, the chapter ends with Mr. Henderson being jealous of Mr. Green for being the one the kids went to for advice...!! 😂😂😂

And that was Mission 113, a nice fun little chapter this week!! 😆 I love that this was basically a follow-up to the end of Mission 112, with Damian dealing with his jealousy of Freddy and Tertius hanging around ANYA now...!! 😌 I also loved Damian's dreams and how in the first dream, he kind of looked like he was dressed like the Hero from Dragon Quest III...!! 🐉 Not to mention, Ewen and Emile were great in this chapter, as well as Anya loving Damian's Paradise Fist near the end of the chapter (though, I already had a feeling that Anya was gonna like it because she prefers the cool stuff...!! 😁)

Anyway, I think that's all I wanna say...!! 😄 So until the next Mission; take care, be safe out there and be kind to one another...!! PEACE OUT MY HOMIES!! ✌😁

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gaylordscooter · 1 year ago

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i just wanted some fucking clothes why is there a parasite manning the cash register

“free food, shelter and clothes? i could get used to this…” Killer surmised as he inspected the dark gray jacket he took from the rack.

He caught sight of the meaningless price tag and sucked in air through his teeth. “sixty dollars?” he muttered. Good thing they didn't have to pay.

“do you always talk out loud to yourself?” Horror questioned, watching him from behind.

“i’m not exactly talking to myself when you and hooded-creep are here.” Deciding the jacket looked cool enough for him, he removed his current hoodie to put it on. He tossed his old hoodie into the shopping cart, adding to the dangerously high pile of clothes.

A middle finger from the other side of the rack rose up.

“but i might as well be talking to myself ‘cus of how quiet you two are. bird flipper, do you ever speak?”

The answer was silence.

“figures…hey i just realized any time we talk to each other, we're talking to ourself.”

Dust tipped over the clothes rack with a forceful shove, causing it to fall on Killer.

“ow, what the heck, man?” It didn't hurt at all and he easily got the rack upright again, but some of the clothes fell off of it and made a mess on the floor. No one here was gonna clean that.

Dust walked out from behind the rack with a few garments in hand and stacked it on the pile.

They were about done shopping anyway, he guessed. Or at least, he assumed so. They’ve been here for a few hours now, but Horror was completely empty-handed.

“hey, crater-head, where's your haul? don't tell me you're not getting anything, you need new clothes the most with your rags.”

“i didn’t see anything i wanted,” he answered simply.

“really? this is a high-end store on the surface. your current getup is from the dump at waterfall.” He pointed at Dust. “look at him, he's all decked out now! covered literally head to toe, can’t even see any bone anymore.”

Horror looked unconvinced. “let's just go. i don't want that freak getting pissy at us for taking too long.”

If he had eyelights he would've rolled them, but he conceded. Not getting any clothes was his loss, but he swore if he ends up taking some of his clothes when they get back he’ll add to his kill count.

The three of them went on their way to the exit.

However, someone—a skeleton monster like them—was at the cash register, expectantly waiting for them to come over. The store was empty the entire time they were here, Nightmare made sure of it.

And the barrier in this universe hasn't been broken.

“Heya dawgs, how’s it hangin’?” the skeleton monster asked. “Yous three gonna pay for all that, right?”

His clothes hurt to look at. They were obnoxiously bright and tacky. His sunglasses that completely obscured his eye sockets literally spelled out “YOLO”. It was like the 90s threw up all over him. What alternate universe was this nut from?

Killer slipped his hand in the pocket of his shorts and curled it around the handle of his knife. He let out a shallow laugh. “what's it to you? you're not the store owner.”

“No duh, homeslice, but stealin’ is totes not rad!”

The way he talked was getting on his nerves. Scratch that, everything about him was getting on his nerves.

It seemed the other two felt the same. At any second, Dust was going to blast that 90’s disaster into the proper century.

“it's not like they're stealing from monsters. this is a human-owned store. i don't think they’d miss a few clothes,” Horror pointed out. “but if it bothers you so much, i’ll be on my way.”

“what?!” Killer exclaimed. He looked at Horror with an exaggerated look of betrayal on his face.

Horror made his way to the door. “hey, i’m not the one stealing. i’ll wait outside.” he said with indifference.

The other skeleton didn't protest at all when he left the building.

“butthole…what the?” Killer narrowed his eyes at his slip of the tongue. That’s not what he meant to say.

“Nah, homie, that chatter don't fly here.” The skeleton shook his head and his shades now spelt “NUH-UH”.

“you censored me?” His wariness skyrocketed at such a small thing. Well it wasn't exactly small when he's able to alter their words. What else could he do?

He glanced at Dust, who looked nonchalant as always.

He sighed, preparing for a fight. “listen, bud, we don't have any money and we're not going to—”

“Aw, no cheddar? You two should probably return those clothes then.” The overly-cheerfulness of his voice dwindled ever so slightly. Almost like he was threatening them.

He stared at him in befuddlement.

Dust decided he was entirely fed-up with this guy and the familiar growl of a blaster rang out.

“Not cool,” the colorful skeleton said before getting blasted.

But he was completely unfazed by the attack.

Killer and Dust instinctively backed up even with the current distance between them and that thing.

“That blast gots a huge kick to it, yo. You should be more careful, you could totes hurt someone with that.” The skeleton stood up—he was kneeling behind the counter the entire time.

He thought he was around the same height as he and Dust. But now it was clear he towered over both of them.

“I shoulda introduced myself, huh?” He asked as if he was talking to himself. He shrugged off his mistake. “My b, better late than never.” He adjusted his glasses as his smile widened dangerously. His golden tooth shined brightly despite there being no light for it to reflect. “The name’s Fresh. I take it that you peeps are sanses? The hooded dude packs a ri-donk-ulous punch tho.”

Blue bones rose up and caged Fresh as a half-ring of blasters appeared and fired. The impact of the blasts created a huge cloud of smoke, obscuring their vision.

Killer drew out his knife with a groan. He swore, Dust was so dramatic. He hoped that the dust of Fresh was among the cloud of smoke, but something about his instincts screamed otherwise. He squinted as he looked around. Dust wasn't by his side anymore.

It's gone completely quiet.

“...dust?” he whispered harshly. “where the funk did you go?” Ugh, there went the censoring again.

A hand laid on his shoulder, causing him to jump, but it was only Dust. He sighed and let his head hang back for a second. “you can't just do that!”

“...my bad.”

Wait. He talked!? And to express sorrow out of all things…“uhuh. we gotta put some bells on you or something, jeez.” The hand on his shoulder remained, in fact, the grip seemed to tighten. “you can let go now,” he said, voice laced with annoyance.

He still didn't let go. Was he trembling? His other hand was locked tightly into a fist by his side.

The grip on his knife tightened.

He hasn't known Dust for long, but what he did know was that he wasn't a touchy person.

“i said let go!” He hacked his knife into Dust’s wrist, he didn't put enough force to completely sever a bone but it cut pretty deep.

Dust yanked his hand away in complete silence.

Killer heard footsteps nearby, but there were too many for it to be from just one person.

The smoke finally dissipated.

He was completely surrounded.

There were more skeletons in the store, all of them wore those obnoxious sunglasses with text on them. These weren't just any skeletons, however. He was sure all of them were Sanses. They were stark still when he caught sight of them, like mannequins on display.

“i don’t know what's gotten into you, dust, but you need to snap out of it for once.”

“Oh, I know the answer to that one, broseph,” Fresh said. He adjusted his shades, the text on them saying “IT’S ME”.

Killer put two and two together quickly. All of these Sanses were being controlled by Fresh, and he was adding Dust to the party. Shit, was he going to be next too?!

He brandished his knife wildly like a cornered animal, causing Dust to take a step back. “aw heck no! get the frick away from me!” He couldn't die here, he couldn't even swear properly! He wasn't going to let his last word be a censored f-bomb.

“Don't be like that, homeslice dawg. Join the party, it's the bomb!” Fresh insisted, stretching his arms out to gesture at the still crowd. “Your pal’s waiting for you,” he added grimly.

As if on cue, Dust tackled him to the ground, grabbing his wrist to prevent him from using his knife. He was breathing heavily in a strained fashion.

They were just getting some fucking clothes. They were just going shopping. It was supposed to be a normal excursion, for once. He doesn't even know the next chance they'll have a goddamn break or do something that isn't designed to mentally mess them up even more. Fuck this guy.

He let out a growl as he brought his knees to his chest and kicked Dust off of him. He rolled upright and blindly lunged for Fresh, swinging his knife around like an untrained toddler.

Fresh backed away from every slash. He may hardly look like a Sans but he sure dodged like one.

As the two fought, the crowd surrounded the three, caging them in. Dust hasn't gotten up yet, but random bone attacks of his flung around the makeshift arena.

The exit door flung open, interrupting their fight.

Never in his life did Killer expect to feel relief at seeing that stupid octopus. Horror followed behind him, looking shocked at the sight.

“I told you that I expected you back in three hours!” Nightmare roared. Once he actually registered what was happening, he narrowed his eye in confusion. “Who or what is that thing that assaults my vision?”

“kill it! kill it now!” he shouted with a bit too much desperation.

In an instant, everyone in the building was lifted up by his tentacles and shoved against the walls of the building as Nightmare arose.

Killer thrashed around in vain, “not me too, you idiot!”

“you’d think you'd expect this by now,” Horror, who was held up near him, muttered.

For the first time since they’ve seen him, Fresh frowned. “Bogus, dude! Interruptin’ my meal like that is not cool.”

“meal?!”

Nightmare ignored the two and paid particular attention to Dust. Something was wrong with his soul, his feelings were all muddled. In fact, the other skeletons here with sunglasses on gave off the similar muddled energy. With another tendril he wrenched Dust’s hood off, revealing a huge flower growing in his eye socket.

Killer and Horror gagged.

“what the heck is that?! has that always been there?!” Killer gawked.

“Of course not,” Nightmare grumbled. The same tendril wrapped around the flower as best as it could.

“Oh buddy, I wouldn't do that if I were you,” Fresh said, his glasses spelling “DO NOT”.

“Try me.” He yanked.

The flower snapped off with such a force that threw Dust’s head back.

Nightmare dropped him to inspect the flower, letting him fall to the floor with a loud thud.

Dust’s eyelights sparked on with a gasp that soon turned into a scream as he reached for his eye sockets as if the flower was still there, not even bothering to put his hood back on.

Killer and Horror’s eyes were wide open and their mouths were agape at the display. They’ve never expected to see Dust lose his cool like this. They weren't expecting to see many things that were happening today.

They were just trying to go shopping. How did it turn into this?!

“Shut up, Dust,” Nightmare ordered. As he inspected the flower, his grasp on Fresh tightened.

“Homeslice, I’m sure this hurts. You mind loosening up a bit?” Fresh asked.

He was answered with a smack on the head by another tendril, which knocked his glasses off. Lo and behold there was a similar flower residing inside his skull.

His glasses were like a mask, once they were off his entire facade crumbled away.

“What are you?” Nightmare asked. He tore the flower up with his hands and let the pieces litter the ground.

“That's not your business.” Fresh slipped out of the tentacle’s grasp with ease like it wasn't just strangling him.

The other glasses-wearing skeletons dug and clawed with their hands into the tentacles holding them up.

Dust scrambled upright to get away from him and closer to Nightmare.

Fresh picked up his shades and put them back on. “Now I suggest you bounce on outta here and let me do my thing. Or things are gonna get not so family friendly.”

Nightmare hardly seemed fazed by the damage done to his tentacles, but if this kept up they’ll be able to escape from his grasp. One thing was clear, he wasn't in control of this situation and Fresh did not want him taking the other three out of here.

He moved Killer and Horror closer to himself in defiance. He could leave these three to rot, find others exactly like them, but he just found these three. He didn't want to go through the hassle of wrangling more Sanses so soon. And he was not going to let someone else mooch off of his efforts.

“we're running, right? we’re not fighting this freak,” Killer whispered to him.

Dust looked up at him, almost pleadingly.

If this was any other time, he would've had them fight for his entertainment, but this was not the time, unfortunately.

He put Horror and Killer down. The three of them were absolutely terrified.

If he portaled right now, there was a high chance Fresh would be able to follow them. They had to get some distance first.

He tossed the other skeletons in his grasp across the store and broke the wall behind him.

Dust, Horror, and Killer didn't waste any time sprinting outside of the store through the broken wall.

Nightmare’s tentacles promptly snatched and threw Fresh to the back of the store for good measure before following after the three.

He opened up a portal to the castle ahead. The millisecond the four of them were through the portal snapped closed.

Killer face planted against the grass as if he was hugging the ground.

Horror brushed himself off, seemingly checking for any flowers on his clothes.

Dust had his hands clenched tightly around the edges of his hood as if he’d die if it was ever off again.

All of them felt like utter shit, and for once, Nightmare didn't particularly enjoy that.

He was…unnerved. His knowledge of the multiverse was even more limited than he thought it was. Before that encounter he assumed the only major threats were Ink, Error, and his brother.

There were so many skeletons under this “Fresh’s” control. How far could his influence spread? Could he control him?

He didn't want to think about it.

“Dust,” he said blankly, “Are you…” How did he want to phrase this? He already knew if he was okay or not, he could sense it. “You are completely free of that parasite’s influence, correct?”

Dust gave a weak nod.

At least it seemed reversible, but maybe that was only because of how quickly it was removed. Needless to say, the second they see that freak again they're out of there.

“fuck man, how’d that thing get you?” Killer asked. “you were by my side the whole time.”

Dust just shrugged. Whether he wasn't actually sure or just too tired to explain, he couldn't tell.

“...god dammit!” Killer yelled. “we forgot the clothes. ugh, whatever. at least i have a new hoodie.” He let out a weak laugh. “i survived an encounter against this parasite and all i got was this sixty dollar hoodie.”

Horror glared at Nightmare. “so you don't know about everything. you're not an all-knowing god.”

“I never said I was.”

“so how much do you know? is there anything else like that out there?”

Nightmare paused. Thinking of a thoughtful response. “I am not aware of everything that goes on in the multiverse. That threat we encountered was entirely unfamiliar to me. There may be more. Cease the image of me as an all-knowing god. I might as well know as much as you.”

“hah! you totally could’ve left us, huh?” Killer pointed out. He knows he would’ve.

“It would’ve been a hassle,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“aw, so you do care about us,” he said.

Nightmare was taken aback. He wasn't sure how true or not that was. “Define ‘care’,” he said skeptically.

Killer wasn't expecting that response. “i was joking. people who care for each other don't put them in shitty situations.”

“...I see.” In that case, Nightmare doubted he had the capacity to care for anyone. “Do any of you three care for each other?”

That made Killer burst out into laughter. He looked at Horror and Dust to check if they were as amused as he was at the question.

Horror just looked offended at the question while Dust was unreadable as he typically was.

#utmv fic

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respectthepetty · 6 months ago

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Pride Petty Watch (SOTUS) 3/5

I'm making my way through the blacklisted shows I was supposed to watch during Pride. I already watched Love in the Air but paused The Untamed so I could deal with my sworn enemy, SOTUS. I'm watching it in five parts (first, second), so now I'm starting on episode seven and have decided 1) Kongpob x M are the perfect ghost ship, 2) this show feels much older than 2016 due to the language and style, and 3) this is a story of a masochistic dom looking for a sado sub.

Since I can't remember anything about this show, I'm actually excited to see all the ways Kong seeks out punishment warmth from P'Oon in the second half of this series.

Prem and Wad aren't going to be a couple, are they? I want them to be because Prem going instantly soft after they fought another faculty together and now being worried about Wad's wounds is the whole purpose for men to fight! Punch each other, then kiss the bruises!

I have no Photoshop skills, so I would never criticize someone else's work, but there are times when I see that this show was made with a budget consisting of two pennies rubbed together, and this is one of those moments because who added those people into the scene?! And why are they layered ON TOP of each other?!

For the people who hated Tae and Mee in The Trainee and the sports day episode in The On1y One, those people would be pissed watching episode seven of SOTUS because it's focused on the hets, capturing the flag, and nothing else. Someone could've at least passed out on that field, so this could be entertaining for me and the juniors, damn.

The man who played Deer has only acted in one other show, and I'm mad about it. The fact that a senior has to be on that field to answer these ridiculous questions from the freshmen is nonsense, but at least I get to see this man with his gorgeous hair.

Arthit says everything to Kong in the gayest way possible in front of all his homies and God without any sense of irony.

And Kong matches that energy every damn time! I'm already sick of them.

Forming a circle around Arthit to say thanks is kinda creepy to me, which is why it makes perfect sense that this was Kong's idea since these two continue to declare their love for each other indirectly while making everyone within two miles witness.

But this moment reminded me of Lisa's "Rockstar" music video, so Thailand stays consistent.

Kong is begging to be punished! Asking Arthit if anyone else knows he cries and likes pink milk is not small talk, and I know Kong just wants to feel like the most special boy for knowing all of this, but I also fully believe he wants Arthit to slap him.

M came on this trip so he could make heart eyes at Kong, and I will not be convinced otherwise. If I forget May exists, my ship is untouchable. M loves Kong, and it's canon to me.

Arthit is a Ken! He made all the boys go out to the water, so he could make the girls listen to him play a song on the beach. Someone needs to ask Greta Gerwig if she has watched SOTUS. Greta, if you're in the room with us right now, blink twice.

"If I tell you to die, will you do it?" YES! What the hell do you think this kid has been trying to tell you?! He wants you to choke him? He wants you to slap him? He has been instigating a fight with you since the first day because he wants your hands on him in the most violent ways. Baby is a masochist and needs to be kept!

I stand by the claim I made in an earlier post that the crew doesn't seem to like Krist because these title cards in-between parts of the episode do him sooooo dirty. There is no need for this to be the image, but here we are. This is rude.

I could never hate M. He is so kind and so dumb. I love those qualities in men.

And I love these qualities in women! (Sidenote: Let Jan kiss more homies, GMMTV!)

GMMTV's 2024 Outing, is that you player?

Since Love Sick and Addicted Heroin have been remade, when SOTUS is remade, M and Kong should be the main couple, and May should ship them while also trying to date Prae. Friends-to-Lovers, fifteen episodes, and make New and Singto play the characters again.

This is the biggest "hell nah" from me because I would not have that many people WALKING ON ME barefoot as some form of initiation. Walking on people is reserved for sex stuff! Just walking on people to walk on people is not normal, and should stop immediately!

I can see the wheels spinning in Arthit's head, but the pieces are not connecting for him. Your man likes when you yell at him. Kong likes when you get upset at him. The kid likes pushing your buttons because then he gets all your attention. Now say it with me, "Kong is a masochist"

Kong is practically begging to be slapped, and if Arthit doesn't do it soon, I will.

This scene hit me so hard I had to pause because it woke me up like I was sleeper agent. I NOW REMEMBER THIS SHOW! Nine episodes in and I finally remember this damn show!

I am white-knuckling my way though this show now because Kong is dressed for a date, Arthit is late and looking like a mess, and Kong is telling Arthit he will do whatever Arthit wants him to, he will like anything Arthit wants him to like, and he will be anything Arthit wants him to be. I do not know how Arthit is experiencing all that Kong is throwing at him, and not realizing that Kong wants to be his pet.

"Call Me by My Name Number: A Boy's Journey to Become a Pet" Where's Mame when you need her?

And now Kong is eating a meal he didn't want, AGAIN, simply because Arthit told him to eat it! I'm not even joking anymore; this shit is kinky, and in this exact moment, I don't hate this show solely because of this reason.

Fuck going to sleep! I'm staying up and watching episode ten, NOW!

#pride petty watch #sotus #sotus the series #This pink milk situation is causing havoc for me #every time Kong mentions it‚ I want to slap him #I can't believe I finally remember this show #but I don't remember it being like 'this'#and by 'this' I mean kinky #I'm invested now!#on to episode ten!#Kongpob x M is my ultimate ghost ship

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themeraldee · 6 months ago

Note

How do you think Homie would react if he found out that reader had mind/emotion manipulation abilities? Would fear her? Would kill her out of betrayal? Or would he simply not care and just be happy that he is happy with her?

He'd feel intensely betrayed at first.

He's not likely to kill his loved one out of pure rage. I tend to think he's more calculated than that, besides the obvious that he doesn't want to lose the one person that loves him.

However why would you be hiding things from him?? Not only does he find out that you're a supe but does this get him to question the validity of your feelings? Or even his feelings?? Do you even love him? Are you a spy of some sort? He goes on a major spiral just rethinking everything. In a way I equate this to the way he got to rethink his and Madelyn's relationship towards the end of it, seeing a whole different side to it.

But I'm not saying that it'd meet the same end.

All in all I feel like he's a ride or die where no matter what he will overcome it because it's a billion times better than having to lose his love. So did you lie to him? Yes. Is he gonna now pout about it for the next month forcing you to make it up to him? Yes. Is he gonna be a petty bitch, and anytime you're having an argument or a disagreement he throws in a 'oh you lying about that too?' or similar? Yes. yes. yes.

Also after his ego gets soothed and he feels reassured of your love for the thousandth time I feel like there would be great opportunity for him to benefit from your powers. Like he's overwhelmed, angry, frustrated. And let's say it takes one touch for you to use your power and soothe him, calm him down, make him feel loved, taken care of and understood. You can still talk about whatever made him angry but it's easier and he gets to feel better. I feel like for that alone he might appreciate your power.

Actually I just had another thought and I cba to rework the above so I'm adding it underneath:

He lost, in a way, all respect for Madelyn when she admitted that she's afraid of him and has been lying to him this entire time right? What if the reader essentially confesses saying,

"I didn't want you to know because I didn't want you to be afraid of me."

He scoffs defensively, "afraid of what?" Even offended by the insinuation that he could be afraid of anything, let alone someone like you.

"I didn't want you to feel like you're being manipulated, being told what to do and how to feel. Again. I would never want to do that to you."

And I love the idea of the tables being turned where he's the one who'd be in "Madelyn's" shoes. Because his whole life has been so curated and manicured to perfection where if he does anything out of the ordinary it's wrong - no room for discussion. You acknowledging that and saying this is why you withheld sharing your power with him would just mean so much to him. For once someone's taking his thoughts and feelings into accounts?? Not what they want him to feel? Earth-shattering revelation! Boo is off to buy an engagement ring right away lol

#sorry I couldn't shut up about this one!!!#actually kinda obsessed with this #for someone to be able to tell him 'you don't have to be afraid' makes me feral #because what else does he get to fear?#homelander x reader #asks

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lunas-side-anime-blog · 1 year ago

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aot veteran/104 corp icks bc im back on my bullshit

someone requested AOT veteran icks, they didn't specify nsfw or not so I did both and also added sasha connie and jean bc i luv them:) feel free to message/inbox with requests!

(levi, erwin, hange, jean, sasha and connie)

Levi

will visit ur place and organize things without you asking. he'd just be like "ur welcome, now your kitchen makes sense" and ur like sir, I don't know where anything is now??? also he'd def the type to proclaim he's better than you for only getting two hours of sleep when you got four. honestly so many icks come to mind for this one, imma limit it to those two for now (stay tuned lol)

nsfw: tries to be rough with you but forgets his own strength. will try to throw you on the bed, but he does it too hard so you completely miss the bed and fall on the other side of it and he's just standing there like "🧍🏻...my bad."

Erwin

you cannot convince me this man doesn't wear water shoes at the pool. you guys say you want a dilf until you actually get one bc this is the type of shit it entails^^

nsfw: erwin cannot dirty talk for shit. im srry but if you're a lil kinky this isn't the man for you. try to call him daddy and he'd be like "we don't have kids?" and you explain the kink to him and he'd just say, "have you considered therapy?🤨" now he's concerned, boner gone, you feel called out, just go to sleep tbh

Hange

they're def a firm believer in natural deodorant and won't take the graceful hints that it's not working. prob wouldn't chill w them on a hot day is all i'm saying

nsfw: feel like they'd be really good in bed tbh like i'm struggling to think of an ick. hange has big dick energy, weirdos just do it better idk. i think maybe hange would try to spit in your mouth (they a freak) and they have so much and its thick and globby like the back of the throat type spit, your gonna choke bro im gagging as a i type-

Jean

bring back toxic masculinity because Jean's hair care routine is so good to the point he'll call out your split ends, i just know it

nsfw: a fucking chatterbox like his homies know everything. you've walked in on him telling connie in extreme detail how he had you in a full nelson last night while you screamed bloody murder and he doesn't see why ur mad. "babe, if anything i'm bragging about you 😏" fucking idiot istg. also kinda gross but I think he's the type to keep sniffing his fingers after fingering you like well into the next day EWW

Sasha

obvi she can't share for shit so I think she'd be an annoying person to eat out with. like yk when you're with your friends and only one person puts their card down so the rest can Venmo them? I think you can ask her to Venmo 20 and she'd send 15 and say something like "oh I didn't eat as many fries" but she fr did. never puts her card down either so believe it or not? jail.

nsfw: will literally be on her phone mid-sex with you. feel like she'd be really into the subway surfer vids and yeah, you go down on her and look up and she brought her own entertainment? ipad child behavior

Connie

i think he'd say "we" when talking about his fave sports team as if he contributed. like, "really connie, you helped win the superbowl? did you score a touchdown?" grow tf up

nsfw: insane bush on this one, i feel like he doesn't groom for shit and whatever, that's your choice! but I also feel like college-aged modern connie would talk shit about women who weren't bald down there and won't eat it unless it is. HYPOCRITE!! I think when he gets to his mid-twenties tho he'd mature (sasha beat his ass)

#aot headcannons #levi ackerman #levi headcanons #hange zoe #hange headcanons #erwin smith #erwin x reader #erwin headcanons #jean kirstein #jean headcanons #anime headcanons #connie springer #sasha braus #aot x reader #aot fluff #snk levi

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traumatizedartist · 4 months ago

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On the topic of khans "kill all humans kick", what if he did?

Well, not all humans obviously, but what if he lead some sort of, drone revolution? Think about it

In his concept art he has a scar on his eye, where could he have gotten that from? Humans possibly

Another thing

What if he did this when he was Uzis age, or even younger?

What if, in drone news, it said, "Khan Doorman, youngest drone to attack humans yet"

What if he did this because the humans killed someone(s) he cared about? Like say, a close friend, or his parents

Maybe having UNN's back when humans were still living on Copper9 wasnt allowed without specific human permission?

What if his parents got killed by their owners and that's what made him snap

What if he was a symbol

A war vet with such a large amount of trauma that he can't risk getting truly close with someone(esp after nori)without thinking they're gonna die. That he can't truly be happy without hurting someone else

Jeez, no wonder he's such a wet cat, he just wants to live, he clearly knows what war is like and the results of it.

Head cannons for this

My homie was 15 when he snapped

He went cooh cooh(I watched arcane and am now adding some of jinxs characteristics into this au of Khan cuz why not?)

Made weapons, started wearing/sewing his own clothes

Lead other drones to battle and shed blood himself

Made his own cover name, with a disguise and everything

Changed his hair style

Clothes that pop! Stripped leggings with Jean shorts and knee high converse with a belt filled with mini weapons ect

He liked killing, liked shedding blood, and it took years to shove down the urges to kill.

He hates it. So so much. It's like an addiction

He doesn't want to tell Uzi but she'll find out eventually

Feel free to add more(PLEASE I AM BEGGING YOU GIVE ME YOUR OPINION ON THIS AND MAYBE SOME MORE HEAD CANNONS THAT YOU'D WANT TO ADD I NEED IT PLEASE)

Dont mind my rambling please I'm crazy(gets shot)

#khan dilfman #murder drones #murder drones au #khan doorman #murder drones khan #md khan #lol #my ramblings #help #i need to sleep i have church tomorrow

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skulla-rxcks · 1 year ago

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ok hear me out.

Chan on his weekly live (ik it's no more channies room but anyways), as he comes to the end and gives STAY his famous "big hug", he hears Y/N enter his room, he's quick to end the live, but in all the hurry he pressed the wrong button, he didn't end the live, So now STAY can see him, but he doesn't know, mabye he can like- yk have s€x w Y/N while hes in camera? No need to but the idea just popped up in my head at school today so I just had to ask u (plz tag me if u do it tho)

WRONG BUTTON !

Paring: bang chan x fem reader

Rating: explicit

Genre: smut, channies room :(

Warnings: v*ginal, praise, Twitter goes insane, Chan accidentally doesn’t end stream 👀

Taglist: @f3lix00 @channiesgoodgirl @mal-lunar-28

Please dm me if you’d like to be added to the taglist ^^

For @foivestarrsketchez 🧡 !

A/n: I miss channies room man :’) (fuck Jyp, all my homies hate Jyp 😔✊) one of my friends just recently became a stay so they probs don’t know what it is. *sobs* i forgot how most of it ended too.. so I’m sorry about that, hopefully it’s okay tho !

!THIS IS PURE FICTION, NOTHING IN THIS IS REAL ITS JUST A STORY!

“Annnd.. that’s it! Thank you STAYS for tuning into another episode of Channies room and I’ll see you all next time!” Chan says, looking over to the door and seeing me wanting to enter.

He brings two of his fingers up to his eye, making his signature peace sign before pressing what he thought was the end button.

“Chris..” I mumble out, moving towards him. “I know baby, come here.” He coos, pulling me onto his lap. “What do you need?” Chan asks me, rubbing his hands up and down my thighs. “You..” I cry, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I need more of an explanation than that.” He chuckles, making me scoot back a bit so he can take his shirt off. “Dick.. I want your dick in me.” I beg.

“Good girl.” He smirks at me, unclipping my bra and watching it fall off my shoulders. “Fuck.. you’re so fucking hot..You gonna ride me?” Chan asks as he motions for me to get off his lap. I watch as he unzips his pants and pulls his cock out. “Wait. Condom.” I pause. “Don’t worry, i have one here.” He answers, I get back on his thigh and roll the rubber over his already erect dick.

“mmgh..” I whine as he stretches me out, my eyes squinting with pleasure.

“Oh god baby.. you’re so fucking tight and warm.” His hands make their way up to my waist as he begins to rock his hips up to meet mine. “Channie..” I moan, rubbing my hands up and down his chest. “Mmm.. fuck!” I move my head down so our lips meet. I capture his lips and begin kissing him. Our lips moving together in a rhythm. While we’re making love to each other there’s a knock on the door. Ignoring it, we continue doing what we were doing. I start riding him faster, moaning into his mouth as we both take each other.

“Fucking hell your cunts so addicting..” Chan groans into the kiss, his hands gripping my hips and bringing me up and down faster on his cock. “Y-you feel so good in me..” I whimper, one of my hands moving from his chest to rub my twitching pussy.

Another knock is done on the door, making me pissed off that someone’s trying to interrupt us, Chan notices the change of emotion in me and decides to call out to the person knocking on the door. “Yes? I’m busy right now.” He sighs hoping the person will leave.

“You realise you’re still live right?” It’s Han, he sounds worried and annoyed.

“You’re fucking kidding me right?” Chan replies, his eyes widening as worry fills his brain. “Nope, it’s all over the internet, people are talking and recording clips of everything. I’ll just come in and end it properly for you.”

“Shit..”

Han opens the door, keeping his eyes on the floor, acting like he wasn’t aware of what we were doing. He presses the ‘end’ button, double checking that he actually pressed it before deleting the stream off the account.

Han leaves the room, taking Chans laptop and giving the two of us some privacy to finish; since we didn’t have any earlier.

“What if you get kicked out of the group because of me..?” I whine into his neck, feeling a tear flutter out of my eye. “I’ll figure something out, yeah?” Chan replies, thrusting upwards into me. “

If nothing can make you feel better, at least sex does..” he chuckles, leaving a trail of kisses down my neck.

. . .

A few hours past it’s a little bit later, I’m laying in bed with Chan, we decide to check what STAYS are saying on social media about everything that just happened earlier today. It’s more tame than I expected luckily. Not many clips are coming out which i’m happy about people realising we deserve privacy, however it of course is going to be a trending topic all over the place. The other comments people are saying are like ‘i wish I was her’ or ‘Chan’s even hotter than I thought’. Guess that’s what happens when you fuck a kpop idol, huh.

#~skulla rxcks #stray kids smut #skz smut #kpop smut #bang chan smut #bangchan smut

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8ttached · 10 months ago

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"One last time"

pairings - fontaine x blk fem reader

a/n : hey guys! I haven’t posted here in so long i hope y'all still hungry for Fontaine fics… but srsly came back with an overwhelming amount of love thank you all so much oh em geeee!! This was a scrap and I’m sure y'all can tell but bear with me lmaoo I'm thinking about making a pt2 just cus I feel like the plot/smut ratio is a little unfair (sorry) but anyway enjoy bookies!!!

Warnings - 18+ smut minors dni!!, public sex, breakup/makeup sex, mentions of aave/n-word, more so plot than smut.

“I think we should stop seeing each other.”

the last thing you said to Fontaine before you guys became no-contact for weeks. Lately, you've been worried about Fontaine both mentally and physically. Losing homies and being around streets he got no business being in. but every time you mention any concern for him, his ears go mute. Him saying shit like “I’m cool” and “I’m fine” never cleared your cloud of fear. Yet, he continued his shenanigans. You knew as someone who grew up with a good family and a great upbringing, you shouldn’t be dealing with someone as reckless as him let alone dating. But deep down you loved him. You loved how he had a soft spot for you, or how he always reassured you whenever you were feeling unmotivated or unwell, even when he’d run baths and rub your feet as you rested. You knew Fontaine was a good person, all you wanted was for him to be more careful.

You told yo-yo about your recent breakup and all she could say was

“I told you niggas ain’t shit, at least Fontaine isn’t.” she’s folding her clothes while you sit at her house head to the knees seconds away from breaking down. “He coo’ as a friend but relationship? Girl…. If toxicity was a city, that man would be mayor, believe that!” she whistles. She always did when she talked about anyone. Both bitches and niggas. You didn’t know how to live without him. Not only was he your lover, but he was your friend. Best friend at that. You’ve been through thin and thick together. Being each other’s comfort on different days and different nights. What were you thinking? You couldn’t live without him.

This was three weeks ago

Now, you're sitting at your desk organizing your planner, adding stickers, and color-coding events with colored pens and highlighters till you get a call. You look at your phone and notice the call came from an unknown number. “Now who the hell..” you whispered to yourself. It didn’t take till the 5th ring for you to just say fuck it and answer. You held the phone up to your ear, slowing down your breathing to try and hear something from the other end, till your heart dropped.

“y/n?”

The familiar deep voice. The tone, the way he said your name, everything made your eyes widen from realization.

It was Fontaine.

You frown your eyebrows as your throat tightens. What happened to seperating? What happened to no contact? You felt sick. all of your love, your concerns, and your worries for Fontaine came all at once. You gasped lightly as you whispered his name.

“I miss you, I wanna see you again”

Your heart sinks, just when you’ve already heard enough. You ended things with Fontaine. You were done with him. He should be done with you, so why is he calling you? and from an unknown phone number at that? “See me again? Fontaine, what do you not understand by separating? Your tone obviously sounded pissed. You were upset. This wasn’t gonna help anything between you guys. But deep down, you were happy to hear from him. You were more than glad to know that he’s still alive and okay.

“Look, I know we suppose to be alone n shit but lemme at least see yo’ pretty ass one last time, end things on good terms.”

One last time.

You take a deep sigh.

“That’s it, one last time”

You tried to exchange a place to meet up but he insisted to pick you up and take you out for “lunch n shit.” You started getting dressed, wearing something casual but sexy, to remind Fontaine of what he’s gonna miss out on. Wearing your favorite perfume combinations, lathering your deep color legs with cocoa butter. you made sure to throw on anything Fontaine couldn’t resist. As soon as you heard the two honks from out your window, you knew it was go time.

You open the door to Fontaine smoking. The blunt between both his thick lips and his rough fingers, the view of it could make you bite your lips. Fuck the lunch date and fuck the back seat you needed him in the driver’s seat right then and there! But you wasnt gonna admit that especially with the position you were currently in. he noticed your googly eyes toward him causing his lips to sneak a smile. “Y’tryna smoke?” he lends you the blunt but you shake your head as you shake your hand in the same direction. “I’m here for lunch, not no smoke sesh” you declined. “Mkay” he sets the blunt down as he shifts the gear and drives off. slouching on the car seat, left-hand steering while the other on his thigh, manspreading with the most obvious tent in his pants. The view made your legs quiver.

“You mind if we make a stop real quick?” the male asks without moving his sight away from the street. “Nah do what you gotta do.” you weren’t expecting anything crazy, but you also weren’t expecting him to park in some random ass empty parking lot. “I’d be lying if I said I ain’t miss you,” Taine says. But it was quiet. So quiet that it took time to understand what he said. “taine, don’t start this shit with me, I came here for lunch, not so you can convince me to stay with you while you do what I left you for.” your tone started from upsetness to disappointment. “I love you, and there ain’t nothing that’d change it, but it’s draining having to worry about where you are and even if you’re alive” You look down as you fidget with your hands. “I had to grieve someone who’s still here so I wouldn’t have to once you’re gone.” he understood how you felt but unlike you, he had a rough upbringing. Being around drugs and introduced to dealing at a young age. of course, it was gonna be hard and nearly impossible to get out of what he started in. he loved you dearly but he knew it would be a crazy idea to just up and go. He sighs as he licks his lips. “Lemme try to figure shit out, I ain’t promising nun, but I’ll try to reduce all the crazy shi, ight?” you look at him with deception. “You sure? I don’t gotta worry about whether ya ass is injured or dead?” you frown. “I ain’t say allat, I said ill try. It’s gonna take time” you sigh. You’re more than happy that Fontaine is at least trying to get out of what he’s in. The awkward silence filled the room quickly.

“But, until then” Fontaine stretches as he lets his seat down. “How bout you tell me why you came out like that, just for lunch” he mocks you as you smack your lips at the question. “Damn, I can’t look good now?” you smile, analyzing Fontaine. You knew Fontaine for years. You knew what he liked and when he liked it, and as of right now, he was ready to take ya ass to poundtown. “Nah, unless there’s a reason you wore them scents ykno’ i like.” you had that man looking up and down in greed and lust and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t feeling the same way either. After moments of intense eye contact, you were on top of Fontaine. grinding your sweats on his jeans, moaning through the messy, passionate kiss, hands holding his locs, desperate for any and all of Fontaine. Hands gripping your ass through your sweatpants, seamlessly and eagerly pulling them off while kissing your glistening breasts as he pulled down the zipper, teasing you as he planted hickies from the neck down. Lord, how were you gonna explain to yo-yo how they suddenly got there?

You knew this was wrong, you knew ‘one last time’ would turn into multiple. But you couldn’t stop.

“I missed you so much, I missed this” he mumbled in between each kiss. Each one being sloppier and more passionate. You couldn’t say anything. You were so caught up in the pleasure that all you could do was sigh and moan. “Damn I see you missed me too” he grins as he rubs his fingers on your clit, spreading the wetness all over your inner thigh. “Don’t you think that’s why I-” You get interrupted by the male’s thick fingers teasing his way inside. You couldn’t do anything but grip his shirt and rub yourself against him to get anything from him. “Please don’t stop Fontaine..” you gasp, lying your forehead against his shoulder. All you could do is gush and melt onto him. “Im not gonna stop ma, haven’t seen ya’ass in a month and i still know what you like” and with that you fell apart, cuming all over Fontaine hands. Rolling your eyes back and crying, practically screaming his name.

After a moment you finally catch your breath slightly raising your head up to look at Fontaine’s reaction and his cheesy ass was smiling. “Damn you must of really missed me” he laughs at the mess you have yet to see. “huh?” you sigh as you look back and notice a nice-sized wet spot on his pants. “shit im so sorry i didn’t mean to-” you get caught off by a heavy sigh “shit! how we supposed to eat when I look like I dun’ pissed myself” you laugh. “You can wear my sweater around your waist” you suggested but Fontaine had a different idea. “Nah, ima change at the house after i finish what you started” he lazily wraps his arm around you enjoying your defense argument on how he started this whole thing.

We all knew that one last time was gonna be a few.

#they cloned tyrone #fontaine #fontaine x black reader #fontaine x reader #tct #black reader #black women #black tumblr #8ttached's works⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

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newtonsheffield · 1 year ago

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Molly. Girl. My homie. Sweet human. Dino dentist extraordinaire. Please please I beg of you more Virgin Anthony.

No but imagine how sweet Anthony would be when they actually have sex.

Kate’s been thriving, honestly. It’s been wholesome, and sweet and honestly kind of sexy watching Anthony explore his sexuality in ways he hasn’t had the opportunity to before. It’s also let her get in touch with her own sexuality more as well which has been a gift. It’s also basically been weeks and weeks and weeks of foreplay which honestly? Kind of added this lovely tension to everything they did. In a lot of ways it felt like being a dumb teenager again, learning the things you liked, every single touch magnified and charged with something else.

And it really was beautiful, when his eyes fluttered closed as he held himself above her, her name stuttering from his lips as their bodies shuddered together. She was still riding high from it actually when she tugged her clothes on and pressed a kiss against his lips when she left to go to work. And she really wasn’t expecting a man to walk in with an enormous bouquet of flowers.

“Can I help you?”

The flowers looked even bigger in the tiny, crowded bookshop and the man raised his eyebrows, “I’ve a delivery for Kate?”

“I’m- I’m Kate.”

“Great.” The man, said setting down the bouquet. “I’ll get the others from the car.”

“The others?!”

“I’ve two more. Card’s on that one.”

Her hand shook as she plucked the small envelope from its place, breaking the wax seal.

I know you’ll probably laugh at me for this but I don’t know a better way to say it.

I love you

Always yours,

Anthony

It choked in her throat as the man left and she sat surrounded by flowers as she reached for her phone, waiting for him to pick up.

“Hey!”

Her voice shook as she leaned forward, resting her elbow on the bench, “I love you too, you know.”

She heard his sharp intake of breath, “yeah?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

He let out a low whistle then a shaky chuckle, “I’m really glad to hear it because I would have looked like a complete dickhead otherwise.”

“You could have just sent me a text you know. You didn’t have to spend hundreds of pounds.”

“That’s not romantic. You deserve the best.”

“Wanna meet me for lunch?”

Anthony’s voice was slow, “Sexy lunch?”

“Man, he does it one time and he can’t get enough. Obviously sexy lunch.”

“Obviously.”

#kathony #anthony x kate #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #molly’s asks and answers

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differentpostrebel · 5 months ago

Text

Lost and Found: A Pirates Promise

Chapter 45: The Last Stand

This gif because Ichiji finally arrives to whole cake island

And this gif because Sanji in the next chapter is going to fight with luffy.

And this song because when we get to that final POV, which is Sanji's yall will feel it, when Y/N says it. Also this song is way to good LMFAO

A/N: and we are back at it again with another chapter! Yall, I have been going back and forth with some of the writing that I now have original drafts of some of the chapters. I felt inspired by some and others. I was like maybe this would work, to which I enjoyed so much that it has now been added. When I tell you, the changes, the angst, the betrayal, and everything is going to be wild! We got some Ichiji POV, Sanji POV, and Y/N POV. The ending tho.. so much hurt. Thank you guys so much for following, liking, reblogging, just following along with the fan fiction. I believe it's this chapter or the next one that has a few song lyrics that are spanish, but I translated it to english, I will add the song onto here so that way once you read it you’ll understand it. The song is called La Media Vuelta by Luis Miguel… and dont worry… there'll be more songs coming as well. We added that flair and AU to these bad boys, while also sticking to the anime pacing. And without further ado. Let the adventure begin!

Word count: 9.7K

Sanji x Reader, Sanji x Y/N, One piece X Reader

Y/N POV…

I watched as Nami kissed the vivre card, a sly smile spreading across her face. "Ohh, I like where this is going," I said, seeing the panic ripple through the homies as they sensed what was coming. Their eyes widened, full of fear. The power of Lola's vivre card was undeniable, and I couldn't help but grin.

"Didn't you hear what the tree said before that? The whole plan spilled right out!" I added, laughing at how things were turning in our favor. Pound, still trying to wrap his head around it, asked how exactly having the vivre card was going to help.

Nami, in all her brilliance, decided to use King Baum's voice to explain, mimicking his deep, trembly accent. I couldn't hold it in—I burst out laughing, wiping a tear from my eye. "Nami, stop!" I gasped, clutching my stomach. It was too much.

But the moment didn’t last long. Nami’s senses were sharp, and she turned her attention to Randolph and the stork, who were trying to sneak away. "Not so fast, you two!" she called out.

Randolph, the rabbit, immediately pointed to the stork. "Apologies, it was his idea!" he said, quick to throw his partner under the bus.

"He's lying!" the stork squawked, flustered.

Nami didn't let them off the hook so easily. "Here’s the deal—you forest creatures are going to be my loyal subjects from now on. Any questions?" she declared with an air of confidence. King Baum and Randolph started to protest, their voices shaky and unsure.

"Ohh, you wanna do this the hard way? Go ahead and try me," Nami challenged, her eyes gleaming with power. The homies quivered in fear. It was clear who was in control now.

"Listen up—here’s your first order. You guys go help Luffy!" Nami commanded, her voice ringing with authority. The homies, reluctant at first, began to murmur their protests.

"Well, are you going to argue, or are you going to help Luffy?!" Nami snapped, the vivre card glowing faintly in her hand. Its power over them was absolute, and they had no choice but to follow her orders.

"This vivre card is coming in pretty handy, if I do say so myself," Nami added with a smirk.

I grinned, nodding in agreement. "No kidding, you’ve got them wrapped around your finger," I said, watching the homies scramble to obey. The tables had turned in our favor, and now it was time to make our move.

The homies began to murmur among themselves, confusion evident on their faces. "Has anybody seen where that red-haired girl went? And the one with the bandana on her head?" they asked, their voices tinged with concern.

"Ohh, we're right here!" Nami chirped, a mischievous grin spreading across her face as we revealed ourselves inside King Baum's mouth. The tension in the air shifted, and I couldn't help but laugh at their bewilderment.

Nami raised Lola’s vivre card triumphantly. "I thought I told you to help out Luffy fighting Cracker," she said, her tone dripping with authority.

Pound was now lounging comfortably in one of King Baum's trunks, looking a bit too relaxed for my liking. "Have you seen him? He's pretty strong," the flower homie said, glancing nervously around.

"Like I care," Nami replied, her voice sharp. She looked at me, and we both shared a knowing grin. "Listen here and listen good—no matter how many of you wither, it won't bother us one bit."

The homies all gasped in shock, their eyes wide as they processed our words. The sheer audacity of our claim seemed to unsettle them.

"So you guys are afraid of General Cracker? What about Big Mom?" I taunted, feeling a surge of confidence.

Nami continued to hold the vivre card high, her determination unwavering. "Which one is scarier?" she asked, her voice playful yet commanding.

"You are!" the homies squeaked in unison, their faces pale with fear.

I couldn’t help but chuckle at their reaction. "See? Even they know not to mess with us," I said, feeling the exhilaration of our newfound power.

Nami winked at me, and we shared a moment of camaraderie. "Now, let's get back out there and show them what we can do!" she declared, her spirit infectious.

Ichiji POV…

We finally arrived at the Germa Kingdom after two days of travel. The moment the castle came into view, a sense of anticipation washed over me, but my thoughts were preoccupied with a little someone who wore a white dress—my fiancée, Y/N. She should be arriving at Whole Cake soon, I thought, excitement bubbling in my chest as the plan fell into motion.

My gaze flicked to the engagement ring nestled securely in its box, the diamonds glinting in the light. I stared at it, imagining how it would look on Y/N’s finger. I could almost see her beaming smile as I slipped it onto her hand, her eyes sparkling with surprise and joy. From the moment I first saw her fight, her fierce spirit ignited something deep inside me—an insatiable hunger that only she could satisfy. Even though our marriage was arranged, I was determined to claim her entirely, to make her mine in every way.

“Hey, Ichiji, still daydreaming about your little princess?” Niji teased, stepping off the ship beside me.

“Just mind your own business,” I shot back, though a small smile tugged at my lips. The cheers of Germa soldiers welcomed us as we entered the kingdom, their voices echoing in the air.

“Welcome back, Master Ichiji!” one soldier called, his enthusiasm infectious.

“Congratulations on your engagement!” another soldier shouted, and a swell of pride washed over me. The admiration of my comrades filled me with a sense of purpose. "You two are made for each other!" yelled another soldier, and I felt my chest swell at the thought. Whether Y/N wanted this marriage or not was no longer my concern, especially since we had something of hers hostage.

“Master Ichiji, Master Niji, it’s been a while!” another soldier chimed in, his voice brimming with excitement.

“I can’t believe they ended that long battle at Broc coli Island!” yelled a third, causing a wave of chatter to ripple through the crowd.

“Why isn’t he coming out to greet us? Where is he?” Niji asked, scanning the area for the failure of a brother, Sanji.

“Knock it off, Niji,” I replied, irritation creeping into my voice. The last thing I needed was to hear about Sanji right now.

As we made our way to the castle, I could feel the energy shifting, anticipation hanging thick in the air. “Hey, Dad! We’re back!” I called out, stepping into the dining room.

“Great work, Ichiji and you too, Niji!” our father boomed, his authoritative voice resonating in the grand hall as he sat on his throne, radiating an air of power and dominance. “Have the arrangements been made like I asked?” I inquired, my gaze fixed on one of the handmaids, an edge of command in my tone.

“Yes, young master. Allow me to bring in the paperwork for you,” she purred, the flattery grating on my nerves.

“Where is he?” Niji interrupted, scanning the room for our brother Sanji.

“Right here,” Reiju said, stepping in with Sanji trailing behind her.

“Sanji! Wow, you really didn’t die! Check you out,” Niji mocked, his laughter echoing through the hall. I remained composed, my expression unwavering as I focused on Sanji.

His eyes met mine, a storm of rage and disbelief swirling within them. “Don’t you want to congratulate Ichiji on his marriage to Princess Y/N? I know she’s your crewmate and all, but…” I laughed, enjoying the discomfort that hung in the air like a thick fog.

“Ichiji, have you gotten the chance to see her yet?” our father asked, genuine curiosity lighting up his features.

“Yes, I did,” I replied, letting the words flow smoothly, enjoying the moment. “I actually spotted her back in Chocolat town, wearing a short white dress.” The vivid image of Y/N in that dress ignited a fire within me, and I savored Sanji’s reaction. His tension was palpable, his fists clenching at his sides.

“She looked exquisite, like an angel among mere mortals,” I added, a smug grin spreading across my face. The frustration etched on Sanji's face was more than satisfying; it was intoxicating. I could almost taste the victory on my tongue.

“Have you told her yet?” Reiju interjected, the playful tone in her voice adding to the amusement.

“Not yet, but soon,” I said, savoring the anticipation that bubbled beneath the surface. “I want it to be unforgettable, something that’ll make her realize how fortunate she is.”

Sanji’s gaze hardened, his frustration boiling over. “Why are you so obsessed with this? It’s not what she wants!”

“Obsession? No, Sanji. It’s about claiming what’s rightfully mine,” I replied, a carefree air masking the hunger brewing inside me. “This is an arrangement, and she’ll learn to embrace it. I’ll make sure of that.”

Niji couldn't resist the chance to poke fun at Sanji. “Hahaha, looks like you got yourself a fancy gift. Shackles always did suit you; takes you back, doesn’t it?” he taunted, his laughter echoing through the dining room.

Sanji slapped Niji’s hand away, rising to his feet, his head held high, eyes blazing with indignation.

“Ichiji and Niji, you both must be exhausted from the trip. Why not grab something to eat?” our father interjected, a tone of authority in his voice that quelled the brewing tension.

After changing out of our raid suits and into our usual attire, I opted for a black long-sleeve shirt and a red cravat paired with white dress pants, feeling the weight of my responsibilities settle onto my shoulders. The lavish spread before us looked tempting, and we dove into the meal, savoring each bite.

“I’m sorry, young master, but here are the papers for you to review,” the handmaid from before said, approaching with a stack of documents.

“Good, you’re dismissed,” I replied, waving her away without a second thought. The others continued their banter, but I could sense Sanji’s eyes boring into me, filled with suppressed fury.

“What’s that?” Yonji asked, leaning closer, curiosity etched on his face.

I smirked, keeping my focus on the papers. “These are the arrangements I have planned for when my fiancée arrives,” I replied confidently. “Clothing stocked, shoes stocked, wine stocked, flowers stocked… and her dresses for the events, one of which is the lunch with Big mom.” I paused for effect, allowing the anticipation to build in the room.

“The pale yellow halter dress, openback with a high slit for her left thigh,” I continued, relishing the moment. “Perfect for the lunch” My eyes flicked up to Sanji, who was gritting his teeth, his expression a mix of disbelief and frustration as he chewed through the meal.

“What do you think? Isn’t it exquisite?” I asked, the teasing lilt in my voice as I enjoyed his reaction.

“Exquisite? More like tasteless,” Sanji snapped, glaring at me.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, brother,” I shot back, leaning back in my chair, basking in the warmth of my triumph. “I’m just looking out for her. After all, it’s not every day you get to dress up a princess, right?”

“Maybe she’d prefer someone who actually cares about her feelings,” he muttered, trying to maintain his composure.

Reiju, who had been listening quietly, leaned forward, her interest piqued. “Ichiji, can I see the ring?”

Reiju leaned forward, her curiosity piqued as I pulled out the engagement ring from my pocket. The brilliance of the diamonds sparkled under the light, but it was the deep red ruby nestled in the center that truly caught her eye.

“Wow, it’s beautiful,” she remarked, inspecting the ring closely. The ruby glinted like a captured flame, drawing attention to its significance. “She’ll love it. But will she love you?”

I shrugged, confidence radiating from me. “She will come to love me. I’ll make sure of it. This is just the beginning.”

The glint in Sanji’s eyes darkened as he shot back, “You can’t force love, Ichiji. She deserves someone who truly cares for her.”

“Of course, and that someone is me,” I countered, relishing the challenge. “Soon, everyone will see how perfect we are together.”

My father straightened in his seat, the air thick with authority as he began to discuss the fall of the Bro Coli regime due to Doflamingo not supplying them weapons, since he was defeated, a significant victory for our family. “And as I last recall, Ichiji, didn’t your fiancée face Doflamingo, even defeating one of his top executives?” he said, pride glimmering in his eyes.

“Yes, she’s impressive,” I replied, a sense of satisfaction swelling within me. I couldn’t help but feel drawn to her fierce spirit even more with every mention of her strength.

Yonji took another bite of his bread, his smirk deepening as he continued, "If she's anything like she was when we first saw her during that broadcast, then I definitely should've called dibs first." His words carried an edge, but the real sting came next. "And if she's anything like what I just saw—wearing that short blue skirt and cropped tank back on that ship, showing off that body—man, I really should’ve made a move sooner."

I turned to Yonji, my patience running thin. "Watch your mouth," I said with a sharpness that wiped the smirk from his face. "She's still my fiancée, and I won’t tolerate any disrespect toward her."

He raised his hands in mock surrender, though his eyes still twinkled with amusement. "Alright, alright. Just saying—"

"You’ve said enough," I interrupted, my voice low and deadly.

Sanji, who had been quiet until now, shot up, his eyes widening. “Wait, what broadcast?” His voice was tight, filled with both confusion and anger.

Yonji laughed, clearly enjoying the tension in the air. "Oh, you didn’t know? Back at Punk Hazard, Ichiji here couldn’t keep his eyes off her when she fought that bird woman. It was a hell of a fight." He chuckled again. “He was practically drooling over the screen.”

Sanji’s face twisted in fury. “So you’ve been watching her this whole time?” he growled, stepping closer, fists clenched. "You bastards were the damn brokers keeping tabs on her!"

I didn’t flinch as Sanji’s anger erupted. Instead, I leaned back, my smirk widening. “Of course, Sanji. You didn’t think we’d ignore someone as... valuable as her, did you? After all, she’s soon to be part of the Vinsmoke family.”

Sanji’s face flushed with rage, his hands shaking as he fought to contain himself. “You don’t have the right to call her that,” he spat, barely keeping his voice steady, his fury palpable. "She’s not yours."

“Right or wrong, it doesn’t matter,” I shot back, enjoying the tension in the room. “She’s mine now. And once she’s here, you’ll have to get used to it.”

The anticipation of her arrival and the subsequent confrontation hung in the air like a storm cloud, and I couldn’t wait to see how she would handle it.

“Bear this in mind: the power we will be gaining is tremendous! The power of Germa will strengthen!” my father declared, his voice booming with authority and excitement. It was rare to see him this animated, and I could feel a swell of pride in my chest.

Niji leaned back in his chair, a smirk plastered on his face. “You should be honored, Sanji, since you’re marrying one of Big Mom’s daughters. Who would have predicted you’d come in handy?” The jab was sharp, intended to provoke, and I could see Sanji’s jaw clench, a mix of defiance and anger simmering just beneath the surface.

“There's still food on your plate, don’t waste it, Niji,” Sanji said, trying to keep his cool despite the tension.

“This? Yeah, I’m done—not hungry,” Niji retorted, pushing his plate away in mock disgust.

“Finish it! You don’t know the value of food, you stuck-up prince!” Sanji snapped back, his eyes blazing with indignation.

“Shut the hell up!” Niji fired back, clearly irritated. He waved his hand, calling over the head chef, Cossette. “This vile slop you served us caused my brother to upset me!” His voice dripped with disdain as he held up the dish, ready to hurl it.

Before Niji could throw it, Sanji sprang up, his anger reaching its peak. “You low-life bastard! Are you trying to leave a scar on a lady's face?” he yelled, stepping between Niji and Cossette.

Sanji POV..

I couldn’t stand these arrogant bastards. The way they carried themselves, like they owned the world, made my blood boil. But what stoked the flames of my fury even more was the fact that Ichiji was using Y/N, my darling princess, my fiancée (a lie, but it gave me a sense of grounding), as a pawn in his twisted game. And to make matters worse, Niji almost hit Cossette! A woman! Was he trying to scar her face?

“Huh, a lady?” Niji scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain. “How stupid are you defending a kitchen wench?” He grinned as if relishing the chaos.

I crouched down, looking at the food that was now strewn across the floor. “Now there’s food all over the floor,” I said, eyeing the mess.

“It’s called aligot,” I said, “and it’s made with cheese blended with mashed potatoes. Potatoes are very nutritious. I assume this fine concoction, due to your noble status, was chosen for you—a fine course for breakfast.” I shoved a spoonful into my mouth, relishing the rich flavors.

“Don’t, Master Sanji! Royal blood mustn’t eat off the floor!” Cossette chimed in beside me, her voice a mixture of concern and urgency.

“The flavor is impeccable,” I muttered, still chewing.

“Poverty has done a number on you, Sanji! Don’t taint our bloodline!” Niji spat, advancing toward me, fists clenched. Just as he was about to land a hit, I locked eyes with him.

“Think of the wedding! Stop!” Father’s voice cut through the tension, and Niji halted his strike, though his rage simmered beneath the surface.

“I’m embarrassed to even be related to you! Disrespecting food is one thing, but raising your hand to a woman is sick!” I said, my gaze now directed toward Ichiji. “And forcing a woman into a marriage she didn’t want is vile!”

“Just because you’re stuck-up princes doesn’t mean you can treat women like dirt!” I shouted, feeling the heat rising in my chest. “Everything you guys do goes against my principles.”

“Oh, Sanji, your head is tainted by the ideologies of the weak! Ever since we were children, your thinking has been incomprehensible! Royalty abides by its own set of rules; you’re out of touch,” Ichiji retorted, his voice dripping with condescension.

“The last thing I want to hear is something out of your mouth!” I yelled back, my anger boiling over.

“Could it be that your ideologies were tainted by this man?” Father interjected, holding up a picture of Zeff, his eyes glinting with malicious intent.

“Big Mom’s information network is impressive,” he continued. “I believe this is a recent photo. Is something wrong? You’re turning white as a ghost,” he taunted.

My eyes widened in horror as the realization sank in.

“In other words, this is just a precaution. I won’t hesitate to relieve this man of his head if you don’t abide by the terms,” he said, his voice low and threatening.

“I wouldn’t do anything drastic if I were you. Forget your friends, accept your marriage to Pudding quietly, and let the princess marry Ichiji. Do that, and everything will work out just fine.”

Panic surged through me as my mind flashed back to the moment Zeff saved me when I was only eight years old, pulling me from the depths of despair, the Baratie, my first real home. His life was on the line now, just like King’s and all of Y/N’s loved ones were at risk. And here I was, completely powerless.

We were both stuck, and there was nothing I could do to stop this.

“Let’s have a peaceful wedding ceremony,” Father said, his voice as cold and commanding as ever. “We will be having lunch with Big Mom and Pudding today, so go get ready shortly.” His eyes glinted with expectation as he leaned back, fully confident in his control over the situation. “Any objections, Sanji?” he added, a subtle smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, daring me to speak up.

I stood there, fists clenched at my sides, staring down at the floor as a storm of emotions churned inside me. Anger, frustration, helplessness—they all threatened to boil over, but what could I say? What could I do that wouldn’t put Zeff, Y/N, and everyone I cared about in danger?

My head bowed in defeat, the weight of everything crashing down on me. Zeff’s life hung in the balance, Y/N was being manipulated, and I was being pushed into a corner with no way out. All for the sake of some twisted family plan to strengthen Germa and align with Big Mom.

Now, I’m faced with another dilemma, and believe me when I say—I truly hate it here. This isn’t my family. These people, with their arrogance and cruelty, they’ve never been my family. I left them behind a long time ago. But here I am, shackled to them once again, powerless to protect the people I love.

All I want is to escape this nightmare. But for now, I have no choice but to play along. For Zeff. For Y/N. I grit my teeth and prepare for the charade to continue.

Y/N POV..

We finally made it to where Luffy was, just in time to see Kingbaum slam into General Cracker. "That went better than expected! Kingbaum, Luffy! Are you okay?" Nami asked with concern, glancing back at Luffy as we all tried to catch our breath.

"Luffy, you alright?" I echoed, worry filling my voice.

“Nami, Y/N… I need time to recover from Bounce Man,” Luffy replied, his voice weak and strained.

“What?” Nami asked, wide-eyed.

“Luffy needs at least ten minutes to regain his strength. Bounce Man always takes a lot out of him," I explained, remembering the toll it had taken on him during his battle against Doflamingo back in Dressrosa.

“Alright, I’ll look after you until you rest up,” Nami said as she turned to the homies. “You! Bring Luffy to us and protect him until ten minutes have passed.”

“You gotta do what she commands, homies!” Kingbaum ordered.

The homies quickly dragged Luffy up to us. “Thanks, guys,” Luffy muttered weakly.

“Don’t thank us yet; save your energy,” Nami urged, her voice tight as we heard General Cracker approaching once again.

“That’s our cue, let’s go!” Nami shouted as Kingbaum picked up the pace, trying to get away from Cracker.

“I feel so ashamed!” Kingbaum wept as he lumbered forward.

“Let’s try not to get caught! Pick up the pace!” Nami urged, her voice tense.

“Son of a birch!” Kingbaum cursed. "He's gonna catch up! Can’t you go any faster?” Nami yelled, panic rising in her voice.

“How many minutes have passed?” I asked, my eyes scanning the dense forest ahead.

“Not even the full ten!” Nami replied, clearly agitated.

“Let’s speed it up, you guys!” Nami commanded.

Suddenly, Kingbaum stopped dead in his tracks. “Why’d we stop?” I asked, immediately on alert.

“Who’s this guy?!” Nami cried out, her voice filled with fear as the homies trembled around us.

The homies murmured in terror, “That’s… General Cracker!”

“You mean to tell me General Cracker isn’t an actual biscuit cracker?” I said, half in disbelief.

“That’s not the point!” Nami snapped as we found ourselves surrounded by Cracker’s biscuit soldiers once more.

Cracker grinned menacingly. “Hmm, so humor me, Kingbaum. Want to explain why you’re helping the Straw Hats?” he asked, his voice dripping with mockery.

“Well… you see, I…,” Kingbaum stammered in fear before Cracker sliced off the top of his trunk in one swift motion.

“Ahhh!” Kingbaum howled in pain.

“I’ll just kill you all instead,” Cracker declared coldly as several homies fell, lifeless, around us.

“This guy is scary…” Nami muttered under her breath.

“You surprised? I’m one of the Sweet Three Generals,” Cracker said, pride in his voice.

“Nami, leave this one to me,” I said firmly, my resolve hardening. "I’ll buy us some time."

I reached up and tightened Zoro’s bandana around my head, feeling a sense of comfort in its presence, as if Zoro’s fighting spirit were with me. The fabric hugged my forehead like a protective charm, giving me the focus I needed for the battle ahead. I drew my sword, my fingers gripping the hilt as I pressed the blue gemstone embedded in its handle. A powerful surge of energy pulsed through my veins, different this time—cool and fierce. Ice began to spread over the blade, glistening with blue electricity crackling along its edges.

“Nami, make sure the homies protect Luffy, okay?” I said, my voice steady as I stepped forward to face Cracker.

Cracker grinned, clearly entertained. “And who might you be?” he sneered.

I clenched my left hand, feeling the power surging within me. Without hesitation, I leaped into the air, my blade radiating with frost and lightning.

“Ice Shards!” I cried out, channeling the ice energy in my blade, releasing a barrage of sharp, freezing projectiles that sliced through the air with deadly precision.

The shards spun through the air like frozen stars, aimed directly at Cracker, shattering his biscuit soldiers on contact.

I smirked, stepping forward with confidence. “I’m sure by now you know who I am,” I said, tilting my head, amusement in my tone.

Cracker smirked back, clearly unfazed. “You’re Princess Y/N from the Straw Hat Pirates,” he said coldly.

“In the flesh,” I responded with a mock bow, adding a bit of flair for good measure.

“You think you can humor me with your games?!” Cracker snarled, clearly annoyed.

“Humor? Maybe,” I teased, “but I’m also here to kick your ass.” I straightened up, my eyes narrowing as Cracker clapped his hands, summoning another pair of biscuit soldiers.

“Why not just face me yourself? Forget the biscuits,” I challenged as one of the soldiers lunged at me. I reacted quickly, doing a one-handed backflip, using the momentum to lift my right leg and crack the biscuit soldier's hardened exterior with a single blow.

“Now,” I said, smirking even wider, “are you ready to fight for real? Or are you compensating for something?”

“You’ve definitely been around Zoro way too long, Y/N!” Nami yelled from behind, exasperated.

I chuckled, glancing back at her briefly. “Maybe I have… or maybe it’s his lucky bandana I’m wearing.” I tugged at the bandana tied around my forehead with a wink before turning my full attention back to Cracker.

The electricity and ice continued to course through my blade, the tension rising as Cracker’s grin faded into a more serious expression. This fight was only just beginning.

Cracker’s smirk turned sinister as he eyed me. “Are you sure Straw Hat can’t back you up? Pretty foolish of you to attack me on your own,” he taunted.

I met his gaze without flinching. “I have a duty to protect my captain. If he’s down and I gotta step up, then so be it,” I said with determination. A smirk tugged at the corner of my lips. “Besides, it looks to me like you’re all talk and no action, biscuits.”

Cracker’s eyes darkened, his grin disappearing. “Kill her,” he commanded, his voice cold and deadly.

As the two biscuit soldiers lunged at me, their swords gleaming in the sunlight, I leaped into the air, dodging their attack with ease. While suspended mid-air, I tightened my grip on my sword and swung it with precision, summoning the power imbued within.

"King, I hope this is what you had in mind when teaching me this technique," I whispered to myself, my heart pounding with adrenaline.

"Ice Fang!" I shouted, feeling the blade's cold energy surge forward. A wave of sharp, icy spikes shot out from my sword, racing toward the biscuit soldiers. The ice spread across their bodies, freezing them solid in a matter of seconds.

Landing gracefully, I straightened up and smirked. The frozen soldiers stood motionless for a moment before they shattered into a thousand pieces with a loud crack, scattering across the battlefield.

My gaze shifted back to Cracker, who was now glaring at me with fury.

"You’re gonna have to do better than biscuits," I said, confident as ever, gripping my sword tighter. Suddenly, a biscuit soldier appeared behind me, catching me off guard. I faltered for a moment but quickly dodged as another one emerged from the ground. Cracker now stood tall, smirking.

"Not bad, you're rather quick on your feet," Cracker remarked. Before I could react, he appeared behind me. "But you left your back wide open!" He swung his sword, but I managed to block his attack, tumbling from the force. I scrambled to my feet, meeting his gaze.

"Is that son of Germa really that important to you?" he taunted.

"You don’t get it," I snapped, standing firm. "Sanji may be a lot of things, but he’s one of a kind. And if the roles were reversed, he would do everything in his power to protect us!"

"Touchy," Cracker sneered, laughing.

"Are we going to talk, or are you actually going to do something?" I shot back, smirking. "Again, not a good look for you, Mr. Overcompensating."

"I’m not too fond of pain," Cracker growled, lunging at me. "But I doubt you can stop me anyway!"

Switching my sword from my right to my left hand, I clenched my left fist and dashed past him, taunting, "Over here!" He spun around, but I dashed once more, using the momentum to strike. Clenching my right hand this time, I punched him in the abdomen, sending him flying a few feet away. I breathed heavily, trying to steady myself.

Cracker recovered quickly, lunging at me again. I raised my sword to block his attack, but his strikes were relentless, forcing me to fall back with each blow.

"You're quite a feisty one, aren’t you?" he said, amused.

"So I've been told," I muttered, struggling to catch my breath.

"Marriage or not," Cracker grinned, "I think I’m going to take my sweet time killing you." He raised his sword, preparing to strike.

Suddenly, a familiar voice rang out. "Don’t you touch her!" Cracker was sent flying, crashing into the ground. Luffy stood there, glaring at him.

"Y/N is part of my crew!" Luffy declared. I let out a sigh of relief, collapsing onto my back for a brief moment.

"Sorry I took so long," Luffy said, flashing me a smile.

I got up and smiled back at him. "It's fine, biscuits all yours."

With a graceful leap, I landed back inside King Baum’s mouth. Nami immediately hugged me tightly.

"You scared me back there!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling.

"Sorry about that, Nami," I said softly, placing my sword behind me and falling to my knees, feeling the weight of the battle finally catch up to me.

"Cocky punk, it does take a lot of nerve to pick a fight with Mama," Cracker sneered, glaring at Luffy.

"Hey Nami, Y/N, have the trees protect you," Luffy said, never taking his eyes off Cracker. Nami nodded confidently, pulling out Lola’s Vivre Card with a grin, knowing it would render the homies powerless.

Cracker’s expression darkened. "Those traitorous trees and your friends are next, of course."

But Luffy wasn’t paying attention to Cracker's threats. Instead, his focus was on the burnt biscuits littering the battlefield. "That smells good," he muttered, his stomach growling.

"They’re still food!" Luffy’s eyes lit up. "Then that makes it easy!"

Nami smirked and pulled out a Weather Egg. "Rain Spark!" she called, unleashing rain from the sky. The biscuit soldiers, hard and durable, quickly softened under the downpour.

"I get it—you soften the biscuits!" I exclaimed, realizing Nami’s plan.

With the biscuits softened, Luffy wasted no time. He began tearing into them, eating each one with fervor as Cracker summoned more.

Cracker clapped his hands, summoning a fresh wave of biscuit soldiers, but they were no match for the hungry pirate. "Yum, these are good," Luffy said, his mouth full, barely slowing down between bites.

"That son of a birch is eating the biscuits!" Kingbaum exclaimed in disbelief. Every time Cracker created new soldiers, Luffy devoured them just as quickly.

"What is with this guy?!" Cracker yelled, frustration evident as Luffy ate the biscuits faster than they could attack.

"Luffy, let's fall back for a sec," Nami suggested, trying to pull him away from the endless biscuits.

"No way, I’m eating them all," Luffy replied stubbornly, his face determined.

Nami smirked, knowing exactly how to get his attention. "What if I told you I can make them more delicious?"

Luffy's eyes widened with excitement. "More delicious?! Let’s go!" He immediately followed us, dragging the biscuit soldiers along with him.

Minutes passed, and Luffy had eaten every biscuit Cracker could produce, leaving the Sweet General visibly rattled.

"Luffy is really putting in the work," I said to Nami, watching in awe as Luffy continued to devour the endless biscuit army.

"When it comes to food, there’s no stopping him," Nami laughed.

"You little punk!" Cracker shouted, incredulous. "How are you still eating?!"

"How much more can his stomach take?" Kingbaum whispered in disbelief. "He’s going to explode!"

"Looks like Cracker is starting to wear out," I said to Nami, eyeing the Sweet Commander as his exhaustion began to show. His movements were sluggish, and the frustration on his face was undeniable.

"As for you, King Baum," Cracker growled, his tone dripping with malice, "Mama is going to be furious about your betrayal."

He turned his attention back to me, his expression twisted with irritation. "This would’ve been over long ago if you hadn’t saved that insufferable woman," he sneered, clearly referring to me.

"My biscuit warriors are supposed to be invincible!" he yelled in frustration, pacing angrily. "And now look! That orange-haired girl reduced them into—into yummy crunchy goodness!" His voice cracked as he tried to keep up his pride.

I couldn’t help but smirk, taking full advantage of his moment of weakness. "Again with the biscuits," I said, stepping forward confidently. "You’re really overcompensating for something, Cracker. It’s okay to admit you can’t perform... well," I added with a teasing smile, placing my hand on the bandana Zoro had given me, now tied around my head. "Maybe it’s just not your day."

Cracker’s face flushed with anger as he gritted his teeth. "You insolent—"

"Stop your whining! This is a pirate battle!" Nami interrupted with a fierce glare. "So what if I found out your weakness? It doesn't mean you can take it out on my underlings!"

I burst out laughing. "Ooooh, underlings! Y'all just got dropped a tier, homies!" I teased, wiping away fake tears of laughter.

"What?! Underlings! Is that what we’re reduced to now?!" one of the homies exclaimed in disbelief.

"Is that a problem?" Nami asked coolly, waving Lola's Vivre Card in her hand.

"No, ma’am!" the homies responded, shrinking back under the power of the card.

Meanwhile, Luffy continued to stuff his face with biscuits, much to Cracker’s horror. "So you’re finally full!" Cracker shouted, desperate to end the madness.

"He’s just getting started!" Nami retorted, though even she was starting to look concerned. Luffy's belly was swollen beyond comprehension.

"Nami, he looks like he’s going to pop," I said, half concerned, half in awe of Luffy’s appetite.

"There’s no way he can eat more!" the homies yelled, eyes wide with shock.

"I don’t need you to throw up to win this!" Cracker bellowed, rushing toward Luffy with his sword raised. "I’ll slice you up!"

"Careful, Luffy!" I yelled, gripping my sword.

But Luffy, grinning from ear to ear, was unfazed. "Joke's on you! I’m stuffed with power! Muscle Balloon!" Luffy shouted, inflating his body further by blowing into his arm, swelling to an enormous size.

"What the hell?" Cracker stammered, suddenly backing away, realizing too late what was about to happen.

"Fourth Gear, go!" Luffy declared, his body transforming into an even bigger, more intimidating form. "I call this Tank Man: Stuffed Version!"

Cracker attempted to slash at Luffy, but his attack did nothing to the hulking form. "You’ve pushed me over the edge! It’s over—time to die!" Cracker screamed in frustration, trying desperately to land a blow on Luffy.

Suddenly, there was a blinding flash of light. Nami and I shielded our eyes. "Luffy!" we shouted, worried.

When the light faded, Cracker was being sucked into Luffy’s massive form. "Gomu Gomu no Cannonball!" Luffy roared, launching Cracker far into the distance, his biscuit soldiers crumbling into pieces.

"He did it!" Nami and I screamed in unison, hugging each other in excitement.

"Luffy, you alright?" Nami asked as we rushed over to him.

"Uh-huh," he groaned, clearly exhausted but triumphant.

"It looks like you’re shrinking," Nami observed, noticing Luffy’s body deflating slowly.

"That’s because Fourth Gear uses a lot of energy," Luffy explained, his voice tired but still full of satisfaction. He lay back, too full to move.

Suddenly, from behind a tree, Pound stepped out. "So, there you are!" Nami exclaimed.

"Pound! You were hiding this whole time?!" I yelled, shaking my head in disbelief.

"Kind of... I ran away so Cracker wouldn't kill me. I for sure thought you were going to lose," said Pound, rubbing his neck nervously.

"Wow, such faith," I said, rolling my eyes at his bluntness.

"Kind of blunt, don’t you think?" Nami added with a sigh.

"That was scary... but we won!" Nami exclaimed, her face lighting up with a grin as we both laughed and cheered in victory.

We glanced over at King Baum, Pound, and the other homies, who weren't exactly celebrating. "Would it kill you to cheer? We beat one of Big Mom's top fighters, after all!" Nami shouted, hands on her hips.

Pound, still looking frantic, responded, "Listen, you're in much more trouble than before! Once Mama's rage is awakened, there's no stopping her! In other words, you need to get the heck out of here before she finds out what you did to her boys!"

"She can get as mad as she wants; I don’t care! I’m the one who should be mad here!" Luffy grumbled from the ground, still too full to move. "How could Sanji leave without telling us why? All we got is a dumb note!"

"You're right, Captain," I said, feeling the frustration boil up inside me. "I'mma knock some sense into him for writing me that note and saying we were engaged!" My voice was laced with annoyance, fists clenched as I thought about the situation.

Nami smirked at me, her frustration mirroring mine. "Honestly, what was he thinking?" she muttered under her breath.

"We only made it this far using Pudding’s map, and no one has seen Pekoms," said Luffy. "We should have gotten Sanji by now, but he didn’t show up at the coast. I don’t know if they got lost or if this is a trap. Once Sanji gets married, he'll be part of Big Mom's crew, and it'll be too late. We have to get moving!"

Luffy, still struggling to get up from the ground, groaned in determination. "Cracker did say there was a ceremony today." "It’s still morning; we might have enough time to stop them!" Nami said, a glimmer of hope in her voice.

"Hey, tree! You know where the castle is?" Luffy called out.

King Baum hesitated before replying, "Yes…"

"Good, you're carrying me there!" Luffy declared with renewed energy.

"I refus—" King Baum started, but quickly clammed up when Nami pulled out the vivre card with a threatening smile.

"We’re taking Sanji back and stopping your wedding, Y/N," Luffy said firmly, his voice full of resolve.

"Oh, Y/N, here’s your bag," Nami said, suddenly remembering. She handed me my satchel, and I grinned.

"Thanks, Nami," I said, relieved to have it back. I pressed all three gemstones on my sword, watching as it shrunk before placing one of the blades inside the bag, the other securely fastened to my thigh halter.

With a final glance at the others, I gave a confident nod. "Alright, I’m ready."

Sanji POV…

As I entered the chariot, my heart felt heavier with every passing second. My mind raced, torn between the decision I was being forced to make and the things I truly cherished. Everything I loved… it was slipping away. The thought of being married made me sick to my core, but what choice did I have? If I wanted to save my friends... if I wanted to keep Zeff safe… if I wanted to keep y/n safe… I had no other option. This wasn’t just about me anymore.

I clenched my fists, the cursed bracelets around my wrists reminding me that my hands—my livelihood—were at stake. No matter what I wanted, one wrong move, and they’d be gone forever. I couldn’t even protect Y/N. I couldn’t stop Ichiji from marrying her. The memories flooded in—the Baratie, Zeff’s tough love, the day I met Y/N, her smile, our adventures with the crew. Every moment felt so distant now, as if they were slipping from my grasp, just like her.

Stuck between Niji and Yonji, I couldn’t move. Their smug faces on either side of me made my blood boil. I knew if I tried to make a break for it, they'd be on me in seconds, and the bracelets would do the rest of the damage. They’d already proven that.

Y/N POV..

"Well, we’re finally out of that hell of a forest," I sighed, resting my back on King Baum’s head as we moved through the open area. Luffy was resting as well, while Nami sat beside him, trying to catch her breath.

Suddenly, a familiar voice called out, "Nami! You guys! Can you hear me?!"

"It’s Chopper!" Nami exclaimed, holding up a small glass shard, which Chopper's voice came through. Relief and tension both surged through me. At least Chopper was okay.

"We’ve got a big problem! It’s Sanji! He’s heading to Big Mom right now!" Chopper’s frantic words echoed.

“Crap!” I muttered under my breath, heart pounding.

"We’re heading to the castle too!" Nami responded quickly, trying to gather more information.

"What about Brook and Pedro?" I asked, the worry creeping in. We hadn’t heard from them at all, and I couldn’t help but feel a gnawing anxiety over their safety.

"We haven’t heard from them at all," Nami added, glancing at me with shared concern.

Suddenly, Chopper’s voice broke into panic, his screams growing louder before the shard shattered in Nami’s hand.

“Is everything alright, Chopper?!” I yelled, but it was no use. The shard was broken. I stared at the pieces on the ground, feeling helpless. "How are they going to communicate now?" I muttered.

Nami knelt down, picking up one of the broken shards. "I hope they’re okay," she whispered softly.

"Poor Sanji..." Nami added, her voice filled with sorrow.

“These bastards have got another thing coming, that’s for sure,” I said through gritted teeth, clenching my right hand as I felt the familiar red electricity surge through me, a fierce wave of anger rolling over me.

Luffy, now back to normal size after shrinking down, muttered in his sleep, "Give me meat."

Nami and I exchanged amused glances. "Meat?!" I chuckled, shaking my head. "He would have meat dreams after eating those biscuits."

"Hey there! You’ve got good luck!" King Baum’s voice broke through, as he picked up speed.

"Why is that?" Nami asked.

"There they are," King Baum replied, pointing ahead.

"What?!" I exclaimed, my heart racing as I leaned forward.

"That’s Germa 66," he said, his voice filled with urgency.

“Is Sanji with them?” Luffy asked as he suddenly woke up, leaping off King Baum’s head and running ahead.

“Luffy, wait!” Nami yelled, but it was too late. He was already off.

"Sanji!" Nami and I shouted, waving as we saw him up ahead.

But just as we got close, Sanji… he kicked Luffy.

"Sanji, what the heck’s gotten into you?!" Nami screamed, her voice filled with shock.

"Sanji..." I whispered, my heart dropping as I stared at him in disbelief. What had happened to him? Why was he acting this way?

"Leave my sight, you bunch of lowlife pirates," Sanji spat, his voice cold and unrecognizable. "Make no mistake, I’ve always been a Vinsmoke, which makes me a prince of the Germa Kingdom."

I tensed, my mind reeling. "What the hell is he saying?" I whispered, feeling both disbelief and frustration boiling inside me. Both Nami and I stood frozen, watching the scene unfold before us.

Sanji continued, "I kept all of this a secret because knowing this would’ve made things harder for you."

I couldn’t take it anymore. Standing up, I slowly took off Zoro’s bandana from my head, folding it carefully and placing it into my satchel, along with one of my blades and my sword. "Nami, I leave this with you," I said, my voice steady but filled with determination.

“What are you…?” Nami looked at me, confused and concerned.

"Just make sure no one takes it, please. And if they do… well, they’ll be in for a surprise," I added, smirking slightly despite the weight of the moment. "Can you do that for me, Nami?" I asked, looking at her intently, knowing this was something important for me to trust her with.

Nami nodded, still looking unsure of my next move. Before I could even say anything more, Sanji's voice cut through the air like a blade.

"It’s noble of you to come all the way over here and get me, but you’ve wasted your time. I’m not leaving. I’ve already forgotten your name," he said coldly, every word sharper than the last.

His words felt like a punch in the gut, fueling the anger already burning inside me. My heart pounded in my chest, disbelief turning to frustration and rage. This wasn’t the Sanji I knew, the Sanji who cared about his friends, about us.

“What a liar,” Luffy yelled, his frustration matching my own. “You think I’m gonna buy that?!”

The tension in the air was suffocating, and I could feel the red electricity sparking through my fingertips again. My patience was at its limit. Sanji's words cut deep, but I wasn’t about to let him walk away so easily, especially not with those lies.

Sanji POV… (Play La Media Vuelta By Luis Miguel here)

Stuck between Niji and Yonji, I felt like I was trapped in a cage. Their smug expressions were infuriating, and my blood boiled at the sight of them. I knew any attempt to escape would be met with swift punishment, and these cursed bracelets would make sure of that. Just the thought of them made my fists clench tighter.

Suddenly, a familiar voice broke through the chaos. "Hey! Sanji!" I turned my head, eyes widening in disbelief as I saw Luffy charging forward with with a giant tree.

“that idiot managed to make it to Whole Cake Island?! “What’s with that tree?!” yelled Yonji, incredulous.

"Sanji!" Nami called out, waving her arms with a look of determination. “We finally made it! I was afraid we’d be too late!”

Her voice sent a jolt of relief through me, but it quickly faded when I noticed the way Niji and Yonji's eyes lit up at the sight of y/n. Their smugness only grew, and the protective instinct within me flared.

“There’s my beloved,” Ichiji said, his eyes heart-shaped as he gazed at Y/N, which made my blood boil even more.

“Ichiji, your wife’s here,” Yonji added, still eyeing Y/N, and I wanted nothing more than to gauge their eyes out for the way they were looking at her.

The situation felt like a ticking time bomb. I had to keep them safe. “What are they doing here?” I muttered, panic rising in my throat.

“How amusing, that’s Straw Hat Luffy,” Judge remarked, his voice dripping with disdain.

“Hey! We came here to pick you up!” Luffy shouted, tipping over the calicoat as he stumbled. “You said you’d be back, but I didn’t want to wait. You know me. I was going to come with just Y/N, but it turned into a whole thing!”

My mind raced, battling between relief and fear. I couldn’t let them get caught up in this mess. I glanced at my cuffs, knowing that if I made a break for it, they would explode, and I couldn’t risk that.

“Zoro took a team and headed to the land of Wano,” Luffy continued, unaware of the suffocating tension surrounding us.

“And what’s this I hear? You’re engaged to Y/N! Why didn’t you tell us? We could have done something back at the Sunny!” His words hit me like a wave of ice-cold water.

Luffy, Y/N, Nami… please forgive me… I thought, the weight of my helplessness crushing down on me. In an instant, I made my decision. I couldn’t let them get any closer to this danger.

“Sanji, what the heck’s gotten into you?!” Nami shouted, disbelief etched across her face. I could see the hurt in her eyes, and it twisted my heart even more.

“Leave my sight, you bunch of low-class pirates!” I spat, my voice heavy with disdain. “Make no mistake, I’ve always been a Vinsmoke, which makes me a prince of the Germa Kingdom. I kept all this a secret from you because knowing this would have made things harder.”

Luffy’s stunned expression made me feel even worse, but I pushed on. “As you can see, there’s a clear difference in our standings now. If I stay here, I’ll have all the servants, soldiers, and riches I could ever dream of.” Each word felt like daggers in my chest, but I had to make them believe I meant it.

The way Nami flinched at my words was like a punch to the gut. I was losing them—losing everything I cared about. But I had to protect them. I had to protect Y/N, even if it meant sacrificing my own heart.

“Sanji…” I heard Y/N whisper, her voice cracking as she processed my betrayal. I couldn't look at her; I was afraid of what I might see. Would she understand? Would she forgive me for playing this role?

Inside, I was trembling. I was stuck between wanting to protect them and the cold, harsh reality of my situation. “If I stay here, I’ll have all the servants, soldiers, and riches I could ever dream of. What more could I want?” I sneered, my voice laced with disdain.

“So I could go to that crappy ship with you and your friends and go on a dumb adventure,” I sneered, forcing a smirk that felt more like a grimace. “Or I can stay right here and marry the beautiful daughter of a wealthy and powerful emperor. Now, which of those would make me happier?” I took a deep breath, preparing to drive the final nail in the coffin. “Here, I’ll spell it out: I just wrote that note to get you off my back.”

“Yeah? Well, what about my note, Sanji?” The voice was unmistakable, cutting through the tension like a knife. Y/N came down from the tree, her eyes ablaze with anger. If looks could kill, I’d be dead by now.

“You wrote some bold statements on my note. Here, I even have it.” She pulled it out from her chest, and my heart sank. I couldn’t bear to look at her, knowing I had shattered everything.

As she stood there, I took in her appearance for the first time. Behind the rage, I could see the signs of her struggle. Her white dress was covered in dirt, her sleeve torn off, and deep scratches marred her legs. But she still looked beautiful—my princess, my everything.

“Y/N, I’m sorry for what I’m about to say,” I thought, wishing I could take it all back. I wanted to hold her, to tell her it was all a lie, that I would never marry Pudding. I wanted to confess how I felt about her, to explain that her reckless plan—her being in Dressrosa and me sailing here—almost cost me my sanity.

I wanted to tell her she was the only one I wanted to be with, that I regretted every moment I didn’t fight for her. I wanted to prove I was the man she deserved, especially after that disaster back on Fishman Island.

But instead, I clenched my fists and said the words that would cut deeper than any blade: “You mean absolutely nothing to me.”

Every syllable felt like poison as it left my mouth, and I hated myself for it. I saw her expression shift, hurt washing over her features. It was a look I knew I’d never forget. But I had to keep my distance, keep her safe. And as much as it broke me, I had to see this through.

“You mean absolutely nothing to me,” I repeated, my voice cold, the words feeling like shards of glass in my throat.

Nami’s voice cut through the tension like a lightning bolt. “Say the truth, Sanji! That wasn’t what you said to Pudding!”

The air around us grew thick with tension, and I could see Y/N tense at Nami’s words, her eyes flashing with uncertainty and pain.

“I told her that I didn’t care about Y/N,” I said, each word a betrayal I loathed, “and that I didn’t love her.” I hated myself for saying it, each syllable a dagger to my own heart.

“Stop lying!” Nami shouted, her voice filled with desperation.

I glanced over at Y/N, and she raised her hand, turning toward Nami with a broken smile. “It’s okay, Nami,” she said softly, but I could see the pain etched in her features, the tears threatening to spill over. I wanted to wipe them away, to tell her that none of it was true, that I did love her, that she was my princess, and that we were engaged. I didn’t care if that part was a lie; the love I felt for Y/N was as real as the air I breathed.

“You know,” she began, her voice steady but strained, “you can insult me or try to convince me that what you’re saying is true, but I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me.” Her gaze locked onto mine, fierce and unwavering. “Tell me you want this… tell me you hate me! I want to hear it from your mouth! Tell me you hate me, obliterate me with your words; I don’t care! Tell me that I mean nothing to you once again, that you want to be with Pudding and live that fantasy of a life. Tell me that you found a love that understands you and loves you more than anyone! And if that is truly what you want, and you can look me in the eyes and say it, I will turn around, and I will be gone with the sun by dusk.”

Her words hit me like a tsunami, each one crashing into me, suffocating me. I opened my mouth to respond, but all I could manage was, “I…”

“Tell me now!” she yelled, the pain in her voice laced with desperation as her body was surrounded by an aura of red electricity, crackling in tune with her emotions.

What is this? I thought, my heart racing. I was caught in the whirlwind of my own lies and her heartache, a maelstrom that threatened to tear us both apart. Her gaze pierced through me, and I could see the flicker of hope in her eyes as she waited for my response, and it crushed me further.

I was losing her, losing everything, and yet, here I was, shackled by my own choices, unable to break free. I wanted to scream the truth, to confess everything—to tell her how much she meant to me. But the weight of my lies held me down, suffocating the words in my throat. I was drowning in the consequences of my actions.

The electricity around Y/N crackled even more fiercely, her hurt and fury tangible. Every second I remained silent was another moment she drifted further away from me. This was it. This was the moment she would leave if I didn’t speak the truth.

But I couldn’t. My lips trembled, but the words never came.

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