#you will never walk again but you will fly

[bigification]

A Dad's Brew

"Where the fuck did you get this? You don't turn 21 until next month." You ask your friend, looking at the six pack of beers in his hands.

"Bill got em for me." He responds.

"Why do you still talk to that old man, he gives me the creeps." You turn your nose up when he mentions the name.

"Why do you think dumbass. For the booze. When I turn 21 I'll never have to talk to him again." He punches you on the shoulder. "Are ya gonna take one or not."

You Scoff and yank one of the beers out of the six pack.

"Cheers!" You hold up your drink.

"Cheers!" He responds as he taps his bottle into yours.

You both start chugging the beer, since it's not often you get ahold of them. But this beer tasted smoother than most, it almost slid down your throat like nothing. Makes you wonder where it came from. Though it is sitting heavy in your stomach. Usually you only feel this bloated after a few beers at least, but only halfway down and it feels like your stomach is full.

"Don't be a pussy and finish the beer." It's all you can think as every drop becomes harder to keep down than the last. How much beer can there be left, it feels like you've been drinking forever and your stomach is getting more and more full. Well it's not all in your head. The pressure builds and builds until it suddenly releases, followed by the sound of a button flying across the room. Then the process repeats, pressure builds, then a button pops. You act oblivious, asking yourself what's happening, but you know.

Your belly continues to bloat, popping more and more buttons off your tiny shirt. You're starting to look pregnant, with a round bloated belly sticking out in front of you. Except it's not just a bloat, soft fat is flooding into your gut, making it pop more and more buttons until there are none left. Your shirt is wide open, letting you feel the cold breeze of the ceiling fan against your thick gut.

Little do you know, that's just the beginning. You're still struggling to down the beer when you feel something in your chest. Your flat pecs rapidly swell, sagging into a pair of soft man tits. They complement your gut perfectly, really completing the dad bod. Though the rest of your body is looking a bit small for a dad bod, let's fix that.

You feel a surge of power through your twig-like arms as thick muscles bulge out of your biceps and forearms. We all know that can't last however, just as fast as they arrive, they're covered in a thick layer of pudge. Even your hands thicken, getting a tighter grip on your beer bottle.

The sleeves on your shirt struggle to contain your thick arms and rip to shreds, leaving you shirtless. And as your shirt falls to the ground, it reveals the soft rolls of fat covering your back. They lead down into your thick love handles, spilling over the waist of your jeans.

On the topic of your jeans, I won't bet on them lasting long. Your fly bursts open as your once flat ass grows round and bouncy. Rips begin to form down your pant legs as fat fills your more powerful thighs. Your jeans finally give, falling to the ground and leaving you in nothing but your underwear. The bulge in the front of your underwear surges forward as your dick grows to 8 inches and thick as a pop can. With balls like oranges, you finally got a package fit for a father. A certain unearned confidence shoots through your growing body, making the nerves of the situation disappear. Afterall, you're the father of this household and you should be able to walk around in nothing but your underwear.

Your transformation is far from over though. Your tiny feet rip through your shoes like they were nothing, growing to a monstrous size 18. Now all that's left is that pretty little head of yours. How old did you say you were again? 20, well that's just too young to be a dad, let's fix that. Your hairline recedes slightly as your face widens. Your cheeks puff out as rough stubble spreads across your face. Your jawline disappeared under a layer of pudge as a thick double chin droops over your neck. The hair also spreads down to your chest, creating a forest of dark hair in between your man tits. It spreads further over your thick gut and down your back, because no dad is complete without that pesky back hair.

You finally finish the beer. You can't chug like you did back in your college days, and you gotta sit down to catch your breath.

You pull the bottle away from your mouth as a hulking burp erupts from your body.

"Took ya long enough..." A deep voice echoed.

You look over to see your friend holding his empty beer by his side. His gut is spilling out of his shirt and hanging over his belt. His man tits poking through his thin shirt, and his thick beard covering his neck.

"Pass me another, I'm gonna need one before our wives get home." You say.

Your friend just smiles as he tosses you another bottle.

[amourdivine]

୨ ♡ ୧ THINGS THEY WISH YOU KNEW... PAC  ઉ

Hello everyone! I hope you're doing well. Welcome to another pick a card. This is a reading in regards to what they wish you knew, the things they didn't tell you about. It can work for any connection: romantic, platonic or familial! Feedback, likes and reblogs help me grow my platform and are highly appreciated. If you liked this reading, please consider tipping me at @ amourdivinetarot@gmail.comvia paypal! xo ♡

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›    none of the images are mine unless stated otherwise. ›    personal readings are available!

HOW TO CHOOSE YOUR PILE.  take a few deep breaths and look at each picture separately. see which one brings you to a feeling, a place or a memory. take your time and feel free to come back to it later!

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 ༉ ‧ the moon.

extra signs that this is your pile. navy blue, 5SOS, cancer, fountains, water, "are you up", overseas, travel, mountain, childhood, distance, 666, 888, 777.

six of cups, eight of cups, queen of cups, page of swords.

They wish you knew how much they miss your warmth, your presence, your caring words and advice. This person could be an ex, a sibling, or someone who walked away from your connection. They're wishing they could redo some things, erase the past between you and start anew. You probably have known them for quite some time and they're wishing to reach out to you again, you bring a sort of childlike glee and curiosity to their life that no one has before.

Perhaps they have realized too late what they had and now they're reminiscing on the past, wishing they could do right by your connection. The song by Bruno Mars, Talking to the Moon, seems relevant here. They know they have walked away, but they still love you, they miss you and above all, they wish you well. At times, this person types and re-types messages, but never sends them.

messages from them. "no one compares to you", "i feel lonely", "i'm ready", "are you ok?", "count me in".

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐖𝐎 ༉ ‧ pure poison.

extra signs that this is your pile. enchanted, perfume, logic, olivia rodrigo, jasmine, scent, aries, aquarius, community, health, friend group.

the star, three of swords, three of pentacles, the emperor.

Even before I shuffled, The Star peeked at me from the deck. So many cards wanted to fly out all at the same time, so there are plenty of messages. This person may have talked about you to their friends or work colleagues (you may work with them). More romantic vibes than platonic, but take it as it fits.

You are this person's dream come true, but they're putting up a front simply because they're scared of another heartbreak. While they want to trust you, be with you and heal you, this person's ego and overuse of logic is breaking their own heart instead of protecting it. See, the thing is, you could break their heart easily, so easily, even if they know you wouldn't, they are terrified. This Emperor is just a façade - they want you.

The song Catch Me by Demi Lovato perfectly exemplifies this person's state towards you. They wish you knew how much power you hold over them, how beautiful you are, how amazing and yet- how much all of your beauty scares them.

messages from them. "it makes me cry", "i believe in you", "do you remember?", "i've changed", "i'm too shy to say it".

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 ༉ ‧ pastel crystals.

extra signs that this is your pile. cancer, libra or aries, family, newborn baby, travel, milestone, housing, accomplishment, a new romantic offer, birthday party, marriage.

queen of cups, three of wands, ten of cups, ten of swords.

There are many ways in which this message could fit, so please take it how it resonates. This person may be an ex, an ex friend or colleague that did you really dirty. Someone who betrayed you, lied to you or cheated on you. To some, they could even be a family member who sabotaged you - or your own child.

This person watching you from afar, craving what you have. It doesn't have to be material - it can be as simple as your empathetic nature, maybe a healthy relationship, a milestone you've achieved or the way you love. They want to be you, almost. It's an obsessive energy, one which was once close to you. I don't think you have cut ties entirely with this person, but you're being advised to be careful on what you post or share with others, because they feel like it should be theirs.

They may try to act friendly with you or as if nothing happened, but you know the truth. If the message resonated but this person hasn't betrayed you, watch out for someone you've known for quite some time, they may not have the best intentions.

messages from them. "is it over?", "i can't do this", "tell me everything" (lol, they really want you to spill the beans huh), "i ask about you" (damn pile three, who is this?), "i learned my lesson", "i could use your help".

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 ༉ ‧ angelic eyeshadow.

extra signs that this is your pile. balanced, libra energy, new love, saturn, reaping the benefits, job search, 111, 000, opportunity, seize the day.

knight of pentacles, two of pentacles, ace of pentacles, ace of swords.

This person wants to ask you out, or offer you something. This is someone who moves slow and I don't think you know them that well. For many of you, this person wants to help you or give you some kind of work/financial opportunity. They seem wiser and calmer, although they're definitely busy.

So far, they're trying to decide if it's worth it. They like to be careful with their decisions and move slowly, so they're currently evaluating if you are a reliable person. This can be can be a new friend, a new crush or love interest, even someone you're waiting to hear back from a job interview.

On the bottom of the deck we have the Two of Cups, so it's likely they will reach out sometime soon, after carefully pondering their choices. You seem like a promising option to this person, the start of something fruitful and they are hoping you work with them to build a good foundation to whatever this is.

messages from them. "i'm taking it slow" (haha), "it'll make sense someday", "i trust you", "i'm waiting for you", "i'm thinking of you".

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 ༉ ‧ magic castle.

extra signs that this is your pile. breakups, relationship anxiety, burdens, burnout, fighting, arguing, 777, moving on, secrets, attachment issues.

ten of wands, six of swords, the fool, seven of swords.

They're too afraid to tell you that they're tired. They want this current phase to end, to move onto better, calmer waters. However, they're being secretive about this. This person is not really sharing how exhausted, how done they are with things.

They want a new beginning. They're tired of fighting, tired of arguing and getting nowhere. If you're in a relationship with this person and you've been going through a rough patch, they want to break up but are likely too scared to do so on their own. They're emotionally detaching from this situation in order to heal, but they're not being honest about this.

This person is scared of honesty and vulnerability, they can't handle intimacy and the depth/intensity of your relationship scares them. They want to withdraw until it feels safe enough to come out of their shell again.

The Knight of Cups appeared at the bottom of the deck... To some, they may have fallen in love with someone else. Something else has their interest at this time and they wish to try new, different things.

messages from them. "i lied", "is it over?", "don't worry", "i'm taking it slow", "i can't stop overthinking".

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐗 ༉ ‧ blue decor.

extra signs that this is your pile. marriage, relationship, established, four, 444, ring, commitment, promise, blue butterflies, start a family, 28, responsibility.

the magician, six of wands, the hermit, the fool.

The messages here are super powerful, I had to stop and calm down for a moment because you got three major arcana cards, so it's a big deal. This person envisions success with you, they feel that after a long time of being alone and working on their success, they've got what it takes to start over, be it in love or friendship.

They're currently making adjustments in their life to fit you in it. What this person isn't telling you is how excited they are to begin their life with you. Honestly, the vibes here are mostly romantic because it seems like they're telling everyone and their mom how great you are, how lovely, kind, beautiful. It's like you've bewitched them.

If this person hasn't asked you out or made things official yet, they're planning to. If you're in an established relationship, they want to take things to the next level, like introduce you to their family during the holidays or propose (I hope I don't ruin the surprise). It's an exciting, loving and magical time for the both of you. Congratulations, pile six! You deserve it!

messages from them. "i'm thinking of you", "you feel like home", "i am healing", "i want to make it work", "i dream of you", "i feel safe with you".

amourdivine. 2021 - 2024 © do not copy, redistribute or edit my content!

DISCLAIMER. tarot is a divination tool, it’s not a substitute for medical and professional advice, nor is it meant to be taken as such. i don’t take responsibility for any choice(s) made by you or others regarding my readings. be mindful ♡

[with-my-calamitous-love]

romance is not dead, if you keep it just yours

chuuya nakahara x reader

more chuuya boyfriend thoughts, i love him. for the yail series, and something chuuya lovers can munch on while i work on the rockstar chuuya series

inspired by paris

chuuya nakahara, who many people think they know. a soulless, port mafia executive, a force to be reckoned with, a monster. who, with all his connections, hears many things about many different people: meeting, kissing, dying, everything between birth, rebirth, and death. who, suddenly, is too busy with you. did he see the photos? no, but thanks, though.

chuuya nakahara, who is so in love he might stop breathing. who is truly a romantic lover- roses, cards, gifts, absolutely spoiling you. who does have exes, and who knows people know- but who doesn't have it in him to care when it's with you. who makes cheap wine feel like champagne. who makes a few kisses feel like forever.

chuuya nakahara, who is a short-tempered, raging dog at anyone who stares at him the wrong way. who is a soft, loving teddy bear with you- it gives you whiplash. who orders his men to look after you when he's away on trips, but making sure they never cross the line to make you uncomfortable. who has photos of you all over his office, tangible evidence of his love.

chuuya nakahara, who finds that balance between showing you off and keeping you to himself. who holds your hand in public, takes you on fancy dates, and books the top floor of a hotel room so he can see the city lights reflect off your eyes. who is just as romantic cooking you dinner at home, dancing barefoot in the kitchen, listening to your laundry spin and floorboards creek. who will show you off when you want him too. who can just as easily put a privacy sign on the whole world, and stop time so its just you two, together.

chuuya nakahara, who is a manipulator of gravity, both literally and figuratively. whose touch makes you feel like you're flying, levitating above all those messes and all the pain in your life. who many would characterize as a player, but who is actually so, so loyal. who would open a vein in his arm for your happiness. who will not stop loving you, even if his heart gave out.

chuuya nakahara, who sometimes can't heave his heart into his mouth. who is so, so in love with you he can't find the words. who confesses his truth in swooping, sloping cursive letters, leaving you tokens of his love to carry with you everywhere. who has so much of you all over him, even when you aren't around. who wears your sweaters, your initials around his neck and your kisses on his chest. who sometimes takes your things when he's leaving for a work trip.

"chuuya, did you take my underwear?"

"no....?"

"CHUUYA?!"

"IT MAKES ME FEEL LIKE YOU'RE AROUND!"

chuuya nakahara, who is so, so intimate. who makes you feel like your body is on fire, leaving no part of you untouched. who is so gentle one second, worshipping you with endless pleasure. who is rough the next, flipping you over and making it so that you can't walk for a month. who whispers filthy lines and praises in your ear, even when you can't form sentences. "s’en sortir si bien pour moi, n’est-ce pas ? tu vas encore jouir, chérie?"

chuuya nakahara, who you wish you could brainwash into loving you forever. who you are undeniably in love with. who has a young soul, taking you out till 4 in the morning. who wants to grow old with you, holding your wrinkled hand throughout the day. who loves you like you're 17, even when you push 70. who wants the only flashing lights to be the stars as he gets down on one knee, watching your eyes fill with tears as he makes it official.

chuuya nakahara, who you would say yes to again, and again, and again. who becomes your best friend, your soulmate, your husband, and your future with one kiss. who takes you somewhere else with the touch of his hands. who takes you to paris on your 5th anniversary, letting you watch the city go up in lights at midnight. whose blue eyes can only see you.

[faithshouseofchaos]

I have another one! Jenson x wife reader. Christmas walk (any location you feel like my dear!) with snow falling from the sky and the dogs (idk what their names are)

.

Let it snow let it snow let it snow— Jenson Button x wife reader

Word count—501

Fluff

Tagged — @diaryofarandomkid

Jenson and his wife walked slowly through the snowy park, their breath misting in the air. The dogs tugged eagerly on their leashes, bounding ahead and sending sprays of snow flying with each enthusiastic leap. Jenson’s wife let out a soft laugh as one of the dogs, a big fluffy golden retriever, paused to dive nose-first into a snowbank, only to emerge with a snow-covered snout.

“Do you think they love the snow as much as we do?” she asked, glancing up at Jenson with a smile that was as warm as the cozy scarf wrapped around her neck.

Jenson chuckled, his voice carrying a familiar warmth. “If it means they get to drag us through the snow like a pair of sled dogs, I’m sure they love it even more.” He gave a playful tug on the leash, and the dogs responded with happy barks, tails wagging furiously.

They walked a little farther, crossing a small wooden bridge that was dusted with snow, and stopped to look out over the frozen pond below. The trees around them glittered with the frost, and the world felt like it was holding its breath. Jenson squeezed her hand a little tighter, and she looked up at him, the snowflakes clinging to her eyelashes.

“I was thinking,” Jenson began, his voice quieter now, “about last Christmas. How we got that tiny tree because it was all they had left.”

His wife laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she remembered. “Oh, I’ll never forget that! The poor thing was so small it couldn’t hold half the ornaments without falling over.”

Jenson grinned, his eyes shining with the memory. “But it was our tree. The best one we’ve ever had.”

“It was,” she agreed, leaning into him as they continued their walk. “I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than that Christmas, with the fire crackling and the snow falling outside. Just us and the dogs…”

Jenson’s face softened, his gaze lingering on hers. “I know what you mean. But I think this Christmas might just be even better,” he said, brushing a gentle thumb across her cheek, catching a snowflake that had landed there.

She smiled up at him, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the layers of scarves and gloves. “You always say that,” she teased lightly.

“And I always mean it,” Jenson replied, his voice full of affection. He leaned down to press a soft kiss to her forehead, and she closed her eyes, savoring the closeness and the way the world seemed to slow around them.

The dogs tugged again, eager to continue their snowy adventure, and Jenson and his wife laughed as they followed, their footsteps leaving a single trail through the fresh snow. They walked on, side by side, talking about all the little things that made their life theirs—Christmas dinners, secret plans for gifts, and dreams for the coming year—while the snow fell softly around them, wrapping the world in a perfect, wintry hush.

[ominium]

farewell

character : gojo s. (i only say his name once, so if you wanna insert anyone else...won't blame ya) context : your husband forgets who you were (amnesia) and hangs out with his high school fling more than you :( pov : first person (reader) content : angst no comfort (letter no response)

note(s) yeah idk, had this thought at 5:00 am and, after a few days, decided to finally write it out also gojo likes his eggs scrambled here with reader. yea idk if u think he'd prefer runny yolk then oops

—

In another universe, we would have grown old together.

As promised, we would have woken up in each other's arms, go on morning walks, share a sandwich, watch the birds fly by...

As promised, we would have grown a flower bed out in the countryside, have chats with our elderly neighbors every now and then, watch the sunset together...

When we first got back to our home after the accident, I had hope. I know it was hard for you to live with me, as you saw me as nothing more than a stranger, but I believed you could remember me. I had strength that our love would prevail, as cheesy as it sounds...I believed that you could remember me.

Every little aspect of our little life was still there. The way I still had to try extra hard to wake you up in the mornings, how you still enjoyed noodles that were a little overcooked and soaked with the broth, and even the way you sat on "your spot" of the couch. Everything was so endearing, and I wanted to believe that you hadn't changed.

The way you still greeted your old friends was all the same. Sure, you missed out on some memories, but for the most part, they didn't have to endure the pain of being asked, "who are you?"

It was nice to see some of your memories come back, too. When you had that nagging feeling that you just had to go to the local park, even though it was raining...all because it felt right. And it did. We used to take a walk on weekends to wind down and relax. Our hands intertwined, and just simply people watching. It re-lit what little faith I had left, and had me craving for more...more of you remembering our memories.

How you started going out every other evening to get some drinks. It seemed so...painfully absent in the home, but at least you were putting in the effort to remember.

So how...how is it that you seem to start remembering everything but me? How can you remember the way I liked my eggs scrambled, but not me? How could you remember how I liked the way I folded my clothes, but not me? How was my spot replaced with her?

Was it not strange that she would make you sunny-side up eggs, even though you said you didn't like the yolk runny? How she didn't walk the path you wanted to walk in the park? You brought her a beautiful bouquet wrapped in purple, yet the colors she surrounds herself with are yellow.

Why is it that I hear from Shoko that you were with her again? Why do I get messages from Megumi that you had to buy two bouquets, because you accidentally bought purple flowers again? Why is it that it seems you never come home to me? Why did I have to see your wedding ring on the bathroom floor. Forgotten.

Why do I wake up to an empty home, and go to bed alone now....

...You know, yesterday was our anniversary. I had bought a cake and even asked Yuuji to help me decorate the living room for us. It was...pretty awkward, to say the least, when he calls me and says you're at the bar with "that girl again."

To be honest, Satoru, I don't blame you. How could I? You experienced trauma, you have amnesia...you still see me as a stranger that just happens to live in the same home as you, and just happens to have a bunch of pictures with you, and even a wedding photo plastered in the bedroom wall. Right.

But it would've been nice if you had just...tried. Tried to come home to me. Try to spend time with me. Given me the bouquets because I love purple.

Tried to be the husband you promised you would be to me.

So here. I'm sure you've already seen them, but the divorce papers are under the letter. I've signed everything, and again I'm sure you've seen, but I grabbed all my essentials and left. You don't have to see me again. I placed our rings in the box they came in...thank goodness I saved it, despite you wanting me not to. You can do what you will with them...you did buy them anyways.

And I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I couldn't give more time to you. I'm sorry if I didn't try hard enough. But, I'm sure you'd understand...you've got holes in your memories that everyone wants to fill.

and I've got whole memories that I can't share anymore.

[blackleatherjacketz]

Make Me Forget

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: After meeting Spencer at a Near Death Experience Support Group, the two of you become fast friends (with benefits) to cope with the trauma. He shows up at your house after a hard case, needing your help to forget it.

Warnings: 18+ Only!, Explicit Smut, Angst, Mentions of Death, Kissing, Hair Pulling, Groping, Pleading, Begging, Vaginal Sex, Female Orgasm, Riding Spencer on a Couch, Heavy Eye Contact, Submissive Spencer, Desperate Spencer

Word Count: 1.4k+

Spencer’s eyes were languid with desire when he showed up on your doorstep in the middle of the night, desperate for that intimate connection you’d forged weeks ago in a haze of burnt coffee and stale donuts. You never expected that your brush with death in the cold river of Tennessee a year ago would force you to seek out camaraderie amongst others like yourself, or that it would toss someone so painfully vulnerable and beautifully wounded as him onto your path.

His lips met yours without a word, without a breath to explain what his eyes had already told you as he pulled you close, stumbling into your foyer and tugging at the hem of your shirt. He hummed his sense of yearning into your mouth as you instinctively lifted your arms, letting him peel it off you before it fell to the floor, exposing your skin to the harsh wool of his sweater vest. He tasted like coffee and hazelnut creamer, the kind you came to realize they carried on the jet when they were flying home after a long case. It was a flavor you’d grown accustomed to, to love even, over the past few weeks as he offered his mouth and body for you to savor, reminding you of what it felt like to be alive again.

“You usually call before showing up out of the blue like this,” you whispered into his kiss, pulling off his vest in a similar manner before working to undo his tie. “I could have been asleep.” You hungrily nipped at his bottom lip and walked him backward through the hallway toward your living room.

“Oh yeah?” He mumbled, quickly unbuttoning his shirt as you slid his tie out from beneath his collar. “You don’t really seem to mind that much.”

“Cocky tonight, aren’t we?” You grinned, running your fingers through his hair and pulling just tightly enough to make him moan, that sound always triggering the moisture to collect between your thighs. You absolutely relished the fact that you were able to bring out this side of him, that your morbid connection was strong enough to short circuit any statistical-spouting frenzy he may fall into by putting that tongue to better use.

“Mmm hmm,” he nodded into your neck, kissing the delicate flesh beneath your jawline as he unclasped your bra, his fingertips ghosting a trail of gooseflesh across your shoulder blades as they moved down to your lower back. His kisses deepened as he found the belt loops of your jeans, pulling your hips closer to his before clumsily falling backwards onto the couch until you fell into his lap, straddling his thighs. “I just need to feel you.”

His light brown eyes grew dark as they watched your bra fall off your body, his palms gently grazing over your nipples on their way up your chest before getting tangled in your hair. He drew you in for a kiss, starting with tiny pecks along your face, sampling the skin on your cheeks and chin before finally parting your lips with his tongue as if he needed the very air in your lungs to survive, as if he thrived off the taste of your mouth for it to fuel every cell in his body. His fingers pressed into your hairline, massaging your scalp as he held you close, turning his head this way and that just so he could taste you from every possible angle as his other hand found the button of your jeans.

He must have seen something absolutely horrific out there for him to move this fast tonight, to forgo describing the details of how your dopamine receptors factor into the reward system in the brain, but you couldn’t exactly complain. You wouldn’t. Any time you got to spend with Spencer was a gift, a beautiful distraction from the dry, safe monotony you’d built around yourself this past year to keep you from repeating the horrors that led you to death’s doorstep. Getting lost in his quirky presence was something you looked forward to every week, something you ended up craving the very second his hands left your body and his scent faded from your bedsheets.

You stepped out of your pants as he hurriedly slid them off of you, eagerly watching him remove his own to reveal his growing length as it practically pulsed with anticipation of what’s to come. He needed this more than you did.

“You want me to make you forget your day?” You cooed, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear as you climbed on top of him, hovering just above his already leaking tip.

“Please,” he begged, his eyes completely black with want as his hands smoothed over the curves of your breasts and the dip in your belly before finally latching onto your hips. You could tell he was fighting back the urge to pull you straight down onto him, to bury whatever it was that he saw tonight into the very depths of your viscera. But instead he decided to thrust up into you just gently enough to brush his head against your soaked center, spreading that drop of precum across the length of your swollen lips; a silent plea for you to take over.

“I can do that,” you smirked, kissing his lips before reaching down between your thighs and grabbing him at the base, your combined moisture dripping down onto your hand.

You held him still as you rocked your hips forward and backward, watching his lips part in ecstasy as you glided your wet folds over the head of his cock. Back and forth you went, gasping each time you guided him over your clit, sending tantalizing waves of bliss up through your spine that trickled down into your muscles. You repeated the greedy motion two, four, six times over before you finally decided that you’d teased him enough to sink down onto him.

“Fuck,” he muttered, eyes rolling into the back of his head as you slowly took in every inch of him, reinforcing that bond that the both of you were afraid would disintegrate into nothingness if you didn’t repeat the ritual on a regular basis.

Your slick velvety walls stretched around his shaft until you bottomed out, forcing his mouth to go slack with a sharp inhale as his tip finally reached your cervix, filling you up completely. He was so beautiful like this, the pink in his cheeks spreading into his neck and chest as he finally glanced back up at you, those familiar looks of gratitude and admiration mixing together into a sultry picture of submission you never knew you needed. Seeing him like this made you absolutely insane with lust, flooding your bloodstream with all the hormones your body needed to make every tissue and nerve ending more sensitive than they’ve ever been before. There was something about his soft and sensitive demeanor that brought you to enlightened states of rapture you’d only dreamed of before. The least you could do now was pay him back for the favor.

You cupped his face and rested your forehead against his, getting a front row seat to his expression changing each time you rose and fell around him, grinning from ear to ear as his breath hitched and his pulse quickened. You felt his hands move from your hips to your cheeks as you found your rhythm together, squeezing your muscles tighter with each thrust as your heat melted around him over and over again. Each kiss you took from his mouth became more staggered, more choppy as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you down onto him faster and harder than he ever had before, triggering that special spot that he somehow managed to find faster every single time. You broke your kiss completely and threw your head back, surrendering yourself to the electric shockwave of euphoria that burned so beautifully through your skin, forcing your muscles to twitch and spasm in his lap.

Spencer groaned like a man crazed as you convulsed in his arms, whining and whimpering before burying his face between your breasts to muffle the sound he was somehow still ashamed of. It was music to your ears, though; the fact that you could draw out such ungodly sounds from this civil servant, such primal desires from this tortured hero as he kissed your chest and spilled every bit of himself inside you. You wondered if it was enough to keep your collective trauma far in the past where it belonged, or if the danger he faced tonight would only grow with time.

Only one way to find out.

[kentobb]

hiromi higuruma x female secretary (AU).

chapter 04 > chapter 06

chapter 05

The three days you were supposed to take off stretched longer, and during that time, Higuruma found himself constantly checking his phone, expecting an update that never came. He told himself it wasn’t important, that your absence didn’t affect him, but the tension building in his chest said otherwise. Each morning, he’d glance toward your empty desk, trying to focus on his work, but his mind betrayed him.

When the morning finally came that he saw you, he paused mid-step. There you were, sitting at your desk, seemingly better and carrying on as if nothing had happened. Your hair was neatly tied back, and you looked calm and professional, though he swore he noticed a faint shadow of tiredness in your eyes.

“Good morning,” you greeted him, your tone perfectly polite, though distant.

He cleared his throat, adjusting his tie. “Good morning,” he replied, his voice as cold and formal as ever.

The two of you stood there for a moment, the air between you charged yet restrained. His eyes briefly flickered over your figure, noting the signs of recovery.

“How are you?” he asked, his tone clipped and professional, betraying no hint of the anxious concern he’d been feeling.

“I’m alright, thank you,” you answered evenly, nodding slightly. Then, in a softer voice, you asked, “And you?”

“I’m good,” he replied curtly, glancing away as if to end the conversation before it could deepen.

You nodded in response, offering him a faint smile. “I’ll get started on today’s tasks.”

“Good,” he said, and with that, he turned and strode toward his office.

Once inside, he sat at his desk and forced himself to focus on the mountain of documentation waiting for him. He answered phone calls, made decisions, and delegated tasks, but every so often, his gaze flickered toward your desk through the open blinds of his office window.

At first, you were simply working, head bent over papers, fingers flying across the keyboard. Then, someone approached your desk—Shiu, his paralegal. Higuruma watched as Shiu leaned casually on the edge of your desk, his expression bright and full of charm.

Higuruma’s hand tightened around the phone receiver as he noticed your reaction. You smiled back at Shiu, your posture relaxed, your demeanor warm. He wasn’t sure what Shiu was saying, but it was clear from the way he gestured and tilted his head that he was flirting.

For a moment, Higuruma tried to focus on the voice of the client on the other end of the line, but his gaze kept returning to the scene unfolding outside his office. He told himself it was ridiculous to care—this wasn’t his concern. But the longer Shiu lingered, the harder it became to ignore the subtle burn in his chest.

When Shiu laughed and leaned closer, Higuruma finally snapped out of his daze. Clearing his throat, he interrupted the client mid-sentence. “Apologies, I’ll need to call you back.”

He hung up abruptly, his jaw tightening as he leaned back in his chair. His eyes drifted toward you again. You looked so at ease, your smile so natural.

He didn’t like it. Not one bit.

It was lunchtime, and Higuruma stood from his desk, straightening his blazer as he prepared to head to the nearby café. He’d been running on caffeine and stress all morning, and the idea of a quiet moment away from the office was appealing. But as he walked toward the exit, he saw you at your desk, engaged in conversation with Shiu again.

The irritation bubbled in his chest. He didn’t have to guess—he knew exactly what Shiu was doing. He was a man, after all, and he wasn’t oblivious to your charm. You were attractive, intelligent, and graceful, and Shiu’s lighthearted demeanor made it easy for him to flirt.

Higuruma clenched his jaw. No. This wasn’t his business. You were his secretary, nothing more. Whatever was bothering him needed to be buried under professionalism.

Still, he couldn’t ignore the way his hands curled into fists at his sides as Shiu leaned closer to you, that same damn charming grin on his face. When Shiu finally left, Higuruma allowed himself a deep breath to calm the storm threatening to overwhelm him.

The office slowly emptied as employees filed out for lunch, but you remained at your desk, your focus unwavering. He paused in the middle of the floor, his brow furrowing as he observed you.

Walking over, he stopped by your desk, his voice cutting through the quiet like ice. “It’s lunch time.”

You glanced up briefly, your fingers still poised over the keyboard. “I’m not hungry,” you replied, your tone polite but distant.

His eyes narrowed. He could tell you were lying. The faint hollowness beneath your eyes, the stiffness in your posture—he recognized these signs. He knew you hadn’t eaten.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, his voice colder this time. “You’re dismissed. Go to lunch.”

“I said I’m fine,” you replied, your voice firmer now as you kept your gaze fixed on your work.

The irritation in him flared. Without another word, he turned and left the office, the click of his shoes echoing through the near-empty space.

When lunch ended, Higuruma returned to the office, his footsteps echoing lightly in the now-quiet space. Most of the staff were still out, and the silence felt heavier than usual. As he rounded the corner, he saw you still sitting at your desk, exactly as he had left you earlier.

You hadn’t moved.

The files in front of you remained untouched, but your posture was rigid, and your expression gave away nothing. A sigh escaped him, low and tired, as he ran a hand through his hair.

Without saying a word, he walked past your desk to his office, pausing briefly at the break room along the way. Moments later, he returned and placed a steaming cup of hot chocolate on your desk.

You blinked in confusion, your gaze darting between the cup and him. “What is this?” you asked, your tone professional, though the slight crease in your brow betrayed your curiosity.

He straightened his tie, his expression unreadable. “We’re even now,” he said, his tone clipped but not unkind.

You opened your mouth to say something, but the words didn’t come. Instead, you nodded slightly. “Thank you,” you replied formally, keeping your voice level.

He gave a short nod in return and turned, walking away without another word.

As he entered his office, he left the door open, an unusual gesture for him. Settling into his chair, he turned to his work, but his eyes kept straying back to you through the glass wall.

You picked up the cup hesitantly, cradling it in your hands before bringing it to your lips. He watched as your shoulders relaxed slightly, a faint, almost imperceptible smile gracing your lips.

Higuruma leaned back in his chair, an unexpected warmth settling in his chest. For a brief moment, he allowed himself a small, private smile before shaking his head and focusing on the documents in front of him.

He didn’t know why he cared so much, but seeing you drink the hot chocolate made the irritation and tension of the morning fade away, if only for a moment.

As the afternoon progressed, Higuruma struggled to focus on his work. No matter how hard he tried to drown himself in case files and contracts, his eyes kept drifting to the glass wall of his office, where Shiu once again lingered near your desk.

Higuruma’s hand froze over his keyboard as he saw Shiu leaning casually against the edge of your desk, his signature grin plastered on his face. You smiled politely, nodding at whatever he was saying.

It was harmless, wasn’t it? Just a friendly exchange between colleagues. And yet, Higuruma’s grip tightened on the edge of his desk as irritation flared in his chest.

A knock at the door snapped him out of his thoughts. “Come in,” he said curtly, trying to sound composed.

Ms. Tanaka entered, a folder in hand. “Here are the subpoenas you asked for,” she said as she approached his desk. But as she placed the documents down, her sharp eyes followed his line of sight.

She caught him death-staring Shiu through the glass wall, his brow furrowed and his jaw tight.

“Are you alright, Higuruma-san?” she asked, her voice laced with amusement.

“I’m fine,” he replied quickly, snapping his attention back to the folder in front of him. “Are these ready to review?”

“Yes,” Ms. Tanaka replied, raising an eyebrow. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

“I said I’m fine,” he insisted, his tone clipped.

Ms. Tanaka smirked knowingly. “I’ve known you since you were a child. I’ve seen you running around this office, playing with staplers and pretending to be a judge. I know when you’re not ‘fine.’”

He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s Shiu,” he admitted, his voice low. “He’s constantly distracting the secretary. It’s unprofessional.”

Ms. Tanaka tilted her head, clearly enjoying herself. “Unprofessional? Or does it bother you because he’s flirting with her?”

Higuruma stiffened, his lips pressing into a thin line. “It’s inappropriate workplace behavior,” he replied stiffly.

She let out a soft laugh. “Oh, Higuruma-san, you’re not fooling anyone.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

“It means you’re jealous,” she said simply, her tone light and teasing.

His expression faltered, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “That’s ridiculous. Why would I be jealous?”

Ms. Tanaka chuckled, shaking her head. “Because you like her, obviously.”

“That’s nonsense,” he retorted, though his voice lacked its usual conviction. “You’re imagining things.”

She held up her hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll leave it alone. For now.”

“Good,” he said curtly, gesturing toward the door. “You’re dismissed.”

As Ms. Tanaka left the room, she couldn’t help but giggle to herself, muttering just loud enough for him to hear, “Young love is always so entertaining.”

Higuruma groaned, leaning back in his chair. The worst part? He couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that she might be right.

[mxtxfanatic]

The Lan juniors don't call Hanguang-jun for help because they forgot their emergency flares. Jin Ling doesn't call anyone for help despite having flares because he'd rather endanger himself and the Jiang disciples tasked with protecting him than call for his uncle's aid. These events:

Jiang Cheng’s next words were wrapped in thorns. “Why are you still standing there? Are you waiting for prey to rush toward you and stick themselves on your sword? If you can’t capture whatever’s living in Dafan Mountain, don’t ever come see me again!”

—Chapt. 8: Pride III, fanyiyi

Lan Sizhui shouted, “Jin-gongzi! Fire your signal!” Jin Ling played deaf, determined to take down this freakish creature. His expression was calm and collected. This time, he nocked three arrows. The soul eating maiden didn’t look angry, though she had been struck in the head twice. She continued to smile just as she had smiled before as she advanced on Jin Ling. Even though she danced while walking, her speed was terrifying, and barely a moment passed before she was already halfway to him. In a flash, several cultivators appeared beside him and attacked the statue, hindering her steps. Jin Ling shot arrow after arrow, refusing to stop, as though possessed by an iron will to shoot every last arrow in his quiver before engaging in close combat. His hand was indeed quite steady, and his aim was true— only it was too bad no cultivation weapon was of any use! Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji were both sitting at Fojiao Village, waiting for news, and it was completely unclear when they would realize something was wrong and rush over. ... Already three or four of the cultivators fighting the soul eating maiden had lost their souls, but Jin Ling unsheathed his sword. Standing only meters away from the maiden, his heart thumping madly, hot blood rushing to his head, he shouted, “If my sword doesn’t cut off her head, I’ll die here—but if I die, I die!”

—Chapt. 9: Pride IV, fanyiyi

...are not unconnected.

Upon seeing that Jin Ling was fine, Jiang Cheng’s heart crashed back to earth like a boulder. Immediately furious, he said, “Didn’t you bring a signal? Don’t you know to fire it if you encounter something like this? Don’t try to show off! Come here!” Since Jin Ling hadn’t caught the soul eating maiden, he was also angry. “Wasn’t it you who told me I had to take the thing down no matter what?! You told me if I didn’t get it, I should never come see you again!” Jiang Cheng wanted to slap the stinking brat so hard he’d fly back up his mother’s birth canal—but he did actually say those words.

—Chapt. 10: Pride V, fanyiyi

[yoonmetogether]

Not In the Cards Interlude pt. 1

pairing: gambler!Yoongi x gambler!fem reader genre: mafia, strangers-to-lovers, age gap summary: how it all started. you won all of his money at poker, he hates you for it, but you find yourself hiding in a closet with him. (This is rlly e2l2e2l lol) warnings: alcohol, mild derogatory language, yoongi's an asshole, reader antagonizes him, motorcycle riding, gambling, smoking, drinking, smut, quickie in a janitor’s closet (i guess i have a problem??), insane bickering, usage of sl*t, yoongi and those red chopsticks from haegeum, a smidge of violence (not towards each other), implied parental absence, scars, reader mentions a minor injury from a car crash wc: 10.2k minors dni. 18+ only thanks to my beta reader @yoonglesyeobo and also to @syllviere for their help and support! <333

prologue l part 1. play nice l interlude. strangers 1/2 l interlude. strangers 2/2 l part 2. l

You picked a great time to fly back home - smack dab in the middle of monsoon season. Of all the light things you packed in your backpack and duffle bag, you forgot an umbrella.

And the first thing you did once you set foot on the mainland soil of your Jeju pit stop, was ask your driver to take you to the Sehwa beach on the east coast. But the cash you had got you only about three-quarters of the way there, so you were dropped off into the one part of town you’re familiar with. Memories of happier times dance around the streets as you walk down them, on your way to the place you know best. Even though it will remind you of how things once were and never will be again, you go because it’s the only place you know where you can earn money without really having to work for it.

You’re soaked to the bone when you walk into the bar. The lights are low and dimmed with a green hue and floating smoke. It’s loud with banter as men get drunk on this gloomy Friday night.

You find an ATM near the bathrooms and withdraw 700,000 won.

“Hi, sweetie. Are you lost?” one of the pretty waitresses asks as she approaches you in a short apron and even shorter skirt, lips painted a vibrant ruby. Her silky bob is curled just above a black choker around her neck, and she glances down as you slide your wad of cash into your wallet, sliding it in your jacket pocket.

“Uh, no. Can I get a drink and a seat please?”

She looks at you with apprehension laced in her polite expression. “There’s a much quieter bar a few blocks down the street. You might have a better time there.”

“I appreciate that, but I’m actually looking to win some money.”

“I see,” she says after a pause, giving you a onceover. “Are you old enough?”

Yeah, an illegal gambling ring probably wouldn’t want to get tacked on with another charge of hosting minors if the cops were ever smart enough to come snooping around a place like this. You pull out your ID and hand it to her, watching as she holds it up and you know just what she’s looking for because you’ve used a fake to get in here before.

The corner of her mouth lifts in a small smile as she passes it back to you. She turns around and beckons you forward with two fingers in the air, leading you through the bar and as you trail behind her, nostalgia walks with you.

At the bar was where you took your first shot, had your first cigarette, in spite of your brother’s protests, and the den downstairs that you’re heading to was where you won your first real hand at poker. It’s still the same old musty, dusty, probably moldy basement that you remember, but now the ghosts of your past linger in the air so it’s hard to go through without getting a little misty-eyed.

As you step off the stairs, the waitress is surveying the room. It’s much more crowded and loud than upstairs since there are high stakes all around. You strain your neck, looking for an empty chair but they’re all occupied by men with too much time and not enough money to lose.

“Well, all of the tables are full right now, but I can set you up with a drink at the bar while you wait for an opening.”

“What about the table in the back?” Her eyes narrow.

“That’s for more experienced players.” Leaning against the railing, you hum, check your manicure.

“I’ll cut you twenty percent of my win if you get me in there.”

Her eyebrows lift in surprise. “You’re that confident?”

“This is where I learned how to play pro. I win more than I lose.”

She looks you up and down again, like she can’t figure you out.

“Make it twenty-five.”

“Deal,” you grin and she mirrors you, flashing her teeth.

“Follow me.”

You pull your damp hoodie further over your head in an attempt to shield your face as you follow her through the maze of tables towards a door in the far corner of the low-ceiling room. It’s slightly obscured by the counter and sheer, moth-eaten curtains that match the shitty wall color, and you thank the waitress when she pulls them to the side to direct you through. She then leads you into a small hallway but pauses right before the second door frame.

“I have to tell you, these men aren’t exactly their mothers’ favorite.”

You shrug. “Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

“Alright, well if you change your mind…”

“Thanks, but I won’t. I owe you that big tip.”

She smiles. “Don’t let me down, girlie.”

“Is there room for one more, gentlemen?” Her voice carries over the cocksure babble of the middle-aged men surrounding the round, green-felt table, littered with scattered poker chips, worn ashtrays and crystal glasses of whiskey. You’re met with a thick cloud of smoke as you approach an empty seat at the table. They all fall quiet as you pull down your hood, revealing your wet hair and the fact that you are not one of them.

A collective muttering of derision rises as you pull out the chair but you act completely unbothered, unzipping your drenched coat and shrugging it off. You fish your wallet out of your jacket and pass all of your cash to the attendant who exchanges it for chips.

“What do you know about poker?” one of the men prods.

"Plenty. Deal me in. What’s the ante?”

“I think you’re wasting your time,” another cuts in. “You should go see if they have a kiddie table.”

The men shove elbows into each other in raucous laughter at your expense but it doesn’t affect you at all.

“Let her play.”

You look up at the new voice. Gravelly. Gruff. Tempting.

Shit. How did you miss… him? The youngest man in the room, the one with parts of his face shadowed by the god-awful, dim lighting, has not taken his eyes off of you since you walked in. You can tell by the way the bumps on your skin rise every time your attention flickers in his direction and your eyes catch. His hair is orangey, as much of it that pokes out from under his black beanie, and he’s wearing a black varsity jacket with white stitching on the front that makes him stand out among the rest of the men’s unflattering suits and loose ties.

He lifts his cigarette, takes a drag, and blows it out, blinking between you and two black poker chips he taps on the table.

You glare at the subtle smirk on his lips as he says, “Easy win.”

This will be fun.

The first few rounds you do get shit hands, but you bet on them anyway, enduring the condescension that leers from the entire table each time. The only one who doesn’t laugh is the one you can’t stop stealing glances at, the one who just nonchalantly smokes and places bets and looks at his cards, and occasionally stares right back. Makes your heart flip. You’ve noticed, though, from watching him a few times, that when the flop is laid out and it’s time for the first bets, if he blinks a little erratically while staring at his hand, he folds soon after. You fold on a two-pair after checking, and the players get a kick out of that when you reveal that you had a potentially winning hand. You pretend to be super bummed. But now you’ve got them right where you want them.

So far, you’ve bet the majority of your money but you’re fairly certain that won’t matter in a few minutes. In your hand, you hold an 8 and 2 of Diamonds. On the table, lies a ten of Spades, six of Clubs, 4 and Queen of Diamonds, and three of hearts. You school your expression. One more diamond card and it’s a flush. You look up and it seems the majority of the table has folded, but ‘kiddie table’ man and ‘beanie with a mean stare’ man are still in the running. Both of their hands have been good so far, but ‘beanie with a mean stare’ has won most of the rounds. This is the last one and you’re running out of time to win all of it back. You feign a nervous glance around the table before you check. ‘Kiddie’ checks as well and you wait for ‘mean beanie’ to follow suit but instead, he scoots the rest of his chips in to raise the bet. Huh. He’s getting cocky, going all in. He only blinked once when the dealer laid down the flop, so you suspect he has a good hand. But not a great one, so you’ll raise the stakes. The men mutter in amusement when you match his bet and he lifts a brow, but the rest of his expression remains neutral. The dealer asks if that’s the final bet, and when no one responds, he flips the fifth card. Your heart jumps. 

A nine of Diamonds.

‘Kiddie’ goes first and displays his three-of-a-kind. Hm. Not bad. You glance over to ‘mean beanie,’ waiting for him to make the next move but he only stares at you, unblinking, a thin line between his lips. You take a deep breath and put on a sheepish smile while flattening your cards near the center of the table so everyone can see.

“Is this a flush?” They all still, and you fail to fight off a grin when their many pairs of eyes go back and forth between the river and your two low rank cards that add up to a high rank hand.

‘Mean beanie’ is now staring at his cards, a noticeable tick in his jaw and you know you’ve won. He tosses them down with a quick flick of his wrist and you can’t help your smirk at his obvious dejection.

“Oh, a straight?” you observe his 5 of Hearts and 7 of Spades. “How nice.” You tilt your head mockingly. “You almost beat me.”

He frowns and you feel enthralled, resisting the urge to blow him a demeaning kiss. With a content sigh, you lean forward to scrape your scored chips towards you, holding your arms out like a hoop to move them all because there’s just that many. You stand as an attendant appears to retrieve your chips to count and trade for the table’s cash. You think you’ll get a nice hotel room to shelter from the storm.

“It was a pleasure playing with you gentlemen,” you say politely as you stand. “I’ll enjoy spending your money.”

The devilish grin you send to all of them lingers on ‘mean beanie’ who is now refusing to look at you. There’s a pep in your step as you stride up to the attendant behind the counter on the side of the room, waiting for him to cash you out.

You watch as the men file out, glaring at you and muttering bitter curses amongst themselves. You shrug it off. Serves them right for underestimating you just because you’re a young woman. You may have been putting on an act, but men run the world.

Shouldn’t they have been smart enough to pick up on that?

‘Beanie’ is the last one to go, head ducked as he pulls out his phone. He’s still in the hallway when you exit, backpack stacked with 10 million won. His foot is on the bottom step as he types furiously on his device.

“Hey, good game,” you say in a light tone as you pass him, but there’s too much sass in your smile to seem genuine. “And you’re right. That was an easy win.”

He lifts his head slowly, eyes narrowed in a vicious glare, pockets his phone and takes a step up. It makes your heart speed when he comes nearly face to face with you, and you can see him in this mildly better lighting.

“How’d you pull that off, huh? You count cards?” He’s pretty much seething but fucking hell, he's attractive.

“No,” you blink innocently, living for the ferocity in his darkened eyes. “I just count on men to be dumb enough to believe a pretty girl like me doesn’t know how to gamble. Thanks for being so full of yourself that you can’t see through a sham like that.”

His jaw ticks as his glare rakes up and down your form.

“You’re full of yourself, too. You’re not that pretty.”

It’s a cheap shot, but it’s obvious he’s just trying to make himself feel better by hurting your feelings because he has nothing else.

“Aww, you sound like a sore loser. Do you want to go back in there? Try to win some back?”

“I’m done playing for the night.” He still hasn’t gotten out of your face and the scent of his earthy cologne with traces of cigarette smoke is doing unhealthy things to your blood pressure.

“Understandable. It would suck to get your ass beat by a girl twice in a row.”

He's radiating with vexation but it doesn’t intimidate you in the slightest. If anything, it’s making him more attractive, which makes you think you should do some deep, serious internal reflection. His nostrils flare just before he swivels on his heel to face the steps.

“Oh, by the way, I noticed that you blink a lot when you get a bad hand. You should work on that.”

His head jerks to you, seeming to take offense to that. He looks you up and down again, grimaces, and starts up the stairs.

“Maybe with your money, I’ll buy some expensive makeup to doll myself up better!” You call up.

“You’d need a lot!” 

Fucking liar. You cackle as he jogs up the rest of the way.

******* Upstairs, he’s already out of sight. You relocate the waitress who greets you expectantly, an enthusiastic grin breaking out on her face when you pull out your winnings. She gives you a small cheer and while you sit at the bar to count out her cut, she makes you a drink on the house.

Once you finish your drink, you check the time and realize you shouldn’t hang around here for much longer. And you’re starting to feel the effects of jet lag now that you’ve got your money problems squared away. But of course you left your jacket downstairs. You ask the waitress if you can go get it.

“Sure, but come right back.”

In the hallway, you falter when you hear a one-sided conversation, spoken by that low stony voice that tickles your brain. You peek your nosy head around the corner, pulse spiking with a thrill when you see ‘beanie’ standing on the other side of the room, next to another hallway.

“The fuck do you mean it didn’t go through? 

As he listens on the other line, he hangs his head, fingers digging into his eyes in what appears to be frustration before dropping them on his hip.

“Shit, are you serious?... Can you just send me some for a plane ticket? I’ll pay you back... Fine.” He sighs dejectedly. “See you back home.”

He curses again, louder this time, and you take that as your cue to saunter into the room, pretending you don’t notice him as you head for the table.

“You stalking me?” You blow a raspberry, leaning down to grab your jacket from the chair and hold it up for him to see.

“As if. You’re not that interesting. And you’re a sore loser,” you tack on. “Not my type.”

(Straight up lies.)

“Well, you’re fucking annoying.”

“Thank you!” You exclaim, hand on your chest like you’re honored. “I’ve worked so hard to be.”

He glowers at you and you really want to laugh. Why is he so angry? It’s not like you stole his money. Tricked him? Maybe, but you can’t exactly be fair in a place like this. His head shakes as he passes by you for the exit.

“So I really won all of your money, huh? And now you’re strapped for cash?” He pauses, slides narrowed eyes your way, and stuffs his hands in his jacket.

“Mind your business.”

“What? It just sounds like you’re in a tough spot, especially with the big storm coming later. I’d hate to think that you’re stranded in torrential downpour with nowhere to go all because some mid-looking girl took your money.”

“Don’t patronize me,” he grits.

“How is that patronizing? I’m just saying, I’m sorry you fell for my dirty little trick, but I can help you out if you want.”

He strides into your space and you step back, heart pounding when he gets in your face again. There’s a dangerous look in his eyes but you’re not at all threatened.

“I don’t need shit from you.” You tip your head up and bat your eyelashes, sneaking a glance at his lips, pink and plush and enticing. 

“Okay,” you shrug nonchalantly, failing to fight off a small smirk. Warmth creeps up from your cheeks to your ears when his blown out pupils flash down to your mouth. And the tension in between you transforms with a feral magnetism.

His tongue darts out to his bottom lip and your eyes widen a fraction at the sight.

“You’re really aggravating, you know that?”

“You can walk away.” His head tilts at your challenge and the magnetism grows when he doesn’t move.

Just then, your heads turn towards the stairs when voices and footsteps start to descend.

He grabs your arm and tugs you around the corner and to the end of the hallway, whipping open a small door and stepping inside before pulling you along with him. Your nose wrinkles at the odious smell of industrial cleaning agents.

“What are you doing?”

“Shut up,” he hisses, tugging you away from the door to the adjacent side of the small and dark closet. “No one’s supposed to be down here now that they’ve closed things up.”

“Oh,” you whisper, settling against the wall. “You don’t really strike me as the type to follow the rules.”

“I’m not,” he grits, voice deep enough to not be heard easily. “But I know that consequences still apply if I get caught.”

“Well, this isn’t how I expected to spend my Friday night,” you huff with a cross of your arms. “Holed up in some janitor’s closet with a common criminal.”

“You’re one too, y’know. You committed a felony just by stepping foot in here. And then another, when you won all that money.”

You mimic that last sentence in a childish tone and his chest heaves in a huff.

“Will you be quiet?”

“Am I pissing you off?”

“You have been since the first goddamn minute you walked in.”

“If I annoy you that much, you could’ve just hidden in here yourself and left me out there to get in trouble.”

“I still have time. I could push you out now.”

“Do it then.”

A silence follows, like he’s contemplating. Hesitating. That magnetism comes back to buzz between you.

“Or maybe, and I’m just spitballing here, you wanted an excuse to get me alone in this dark, tight space?”

He scoffs. “You’re delusional.”

“Hm. Then why are you so close? There’s more than enough room for the both of us to have space.”

When he doesn’t say anything, a smidge of unease pinches your gut when you think you’ve gotten ahead of yourself and misread things. You can’t help that his whole broody, pissed off vibe turns you on for some reason. So you move to get away from him, create some space now that you’re embarrassed but his hand finds the crook of your elbow and stops you. Heat floods your cheeks for a whole different reason.

“What are you trying to get at?” You smile, heart pounding with nerves because you know his rejection would sting like hell. But you’re not about to let his attitude shit on your confidence.

“C’mon, you’re not that dumb.” His fingers dig into your arm, not enough to hurt but enough to feel that you’ve pinched a nerve.

You gasp when he pushes your arm until your back hits some metal shelves and you stare at the silhouette of his face, his hand lifting to hold onto the shelf next to your head. Blood rushes in your ears when he leans in so close enough that his warm breath fans down to your chin.

“You wanna be fucked in here like a slut? Is that it?”

Holy mother of fuck. The way he said that - husky, dark, low but so intense has to be a sin.

“Can you even get it up this late at night, old man?”

“Who the fuck are you calling old?” He spits. “You’ve got to be at least 30.”

He better be joking! “What does that make you, then? 45? 50?” 

“Try 27.”

“Huh. You’re still a lot older than me.” You don’t find that hot.

“By how much?” he queries, a bit of apprehension in his tone.

“5 years.”

He exhales sharply, a breath of relief. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Keep telling yourself that. Is almost 30 too early to have ‘dysfunctional’ problems?”

Large hands on your hips force you to turn around and face the shelves, and you plant your palms on it with a gasp when he grinds his clothed erection on the swell of your ass.

“Does this feel ‘dysfunctional’ to you?” he growls, grinding against you again, slower this time but harsher so you can feel all of what’s swelling in his pants. He’s big, because of course he is, and you figure by the end of this, you’ll be the dysfunctional one.

“I-I don’t know,” you stutter, throat suddenly dry.

He sighs and leans into you, chest barely brushing your back, and you gasp again when his hand returns to the shelf above your head, ducking his chin to breathe down your neck as he rolls his hips once more and mutters darkly into your ear,

“Do you want to find out?” A shiver bolts down your spine, and your center starts to throb with sinful desire.

Getting fucked on a Friday night in a cleaning closet by a common criminal is definitely not something you expected to be doing on your trip back home. But you don’t want it to go in any other way.

“Mhmm.”

“Is that supposed to be a word?”

“Yes!” You whisper yell.

“Yes, what?” he emphasizes, tone gritty and a touch dominating.

“Yes, I want to find out.” He chuckles, and it’s like a jolt of thunder worthy of a hurricane storming through every seed of your nerves.

Quiet passes for a minute and you think he’s in the middle of changing his mind, but  then he manhandles you to the other side of the closet away from the door, and you put your hands out to feel that you’re pressed into a set of shelves holding big ass rolls of paper towels or something.

He tugs at the hem of your pants. “Take these off.”

“Why can’t you do it?”

“Because I’m giving you a chance to change your mind,” he murmurs.

Oh. You hesitate only because that was unexpected. But you weren’t planning on changing anything. Without a word, you undo the clasp on your jeans and reach back to find his hand, taking note of the insane electricity that surges through you once you touch him, and bring it back to your waist, silent permission that he can continue. Nothing is said as he slides your pants down your ass, and you wait for him to work on his own but instead you feel his fingers trickle on the inside of your upper thigh, and your breath hitches as he inches closer to your heat. You spread your legs and arch your back to give him indication to touch you. He cups your mound, and you lurch forward with a moan, grabbing the shelf to hold onto for dear life.

“You better stay quiet,” he grumbles. “Because if you get us caught, I’ll tell them I found out you were counting cards.”

“And you were fucking me as punishment?” you challenge over your shoulder, but the vitriol in your sneer is extinguished when he glides a lone finger between your folds.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “You’re already wet. Being a dirty slut like this turns you on?”

You don’t answer, brain malfunctioning when he starts rubbing circles over your clit, and you duck your head as it increases your arousal. A whiny moan floats out when he teases your hole and hums to himself. Your back arches when he slips a digit in, shushing your louder moan as he adds another and pumps in and out to work you open. You have to hold your breath every now and then to keep your noises to yourself.

As he keeps finger-fucking you, there’s some shifting and then a slap of something falling on the floor, followed by the sound of foil tearing.

“Did you just get a condom out of your wallet?”

“No, I pulled it out of thin air,” he deadpans dryly.

You roll your eyes. Men. Always staying locked and fucking loaded. And he called you a slut? You open your mouth to convey this to him, but you figure one more smart-ass comment will deny you of what you’re craving.

You salivate when you hear him undo his belt and unzip his jeans. He steps back with a faint moan, and you imagine him finally pulling himself out to roll on the condom. Shit. You know you’re in for it.

His hand finds your waist again, and he spits, loudly, before tapping his tip on your center, gathering your arousal. Your body jerks at the sensation of his head dragging through your folds and over your clit before coming back to prod your entrance, making you tense up in anticipation.

“Are you going to change your mind? Last chance.”

“No, I’m good.” There’s a lapse in movement and in words but then he pushes in and- fuck! It’s a stretch. You moan over a bitten tongue as your eyes squeeze shut, urgently trying to adjust.

“We don’t have to do this if you’re not up for it,” he mutters quietly when your cunt refuses to cooperate, thanks to a mix of nerves.

"I am, damn it!”

“Then fucking relax.”

So you deflate your lungs, using the idea of just how good it’ll feel once he fills you up for motivation to do as he says. You let your body go almost entirely limp and he must notice because he digs his nails into your waist and guides himself in, agonizingly slow, expanding your walls with girth so fulfilling.

A low growl resonates in his chest when he sinks in all the way, fingers flexing on your naked hips as he gives time for you to adjust. His hard dick twitching within tells you that he needs a second too. For a few minutes, he fucks you at a snail’s pace while you try not to lose your shit. Then he pulls out to bend his knees, and thrusts back into you, breathing shakily as he increases the pace.

He doesn’t take his hands off of your waist. Doesn’t grope your tits, or cup handfuls of your ass, just holds onto your hips to keep you in place, occasionally uses them to adjust his stance behind you. A part of you wishes he would because you know his large hands could work wonders on your skin, but at the same time there’s a modicum of respect coming from his restraint. You don’t know if that’s what he’s going for or if he just genuinely doesn’t want to touch you - which, ouch - but you’re pretty sure most guys would take you letting them fuck you in a closet as automatic permission to touch all parts of your body whether you asked them to or not, but apparently he’s not one of them.

There is one place, though, that you desperately need him to put his hands on and for whatever reason, he’s not.

“Are you gonna play with my clit anytime soon? Or did you, in your old age, forget where it is?” He huffs, dark and indignant in your ear.

“It’d be nice to get off at some point ton-” A pair of fingers gets shoved over your tongue, cutting you off.

“Shut. Your. Mouth.” Your eyes roll back at the rigid and domineering grit in his tone, and your back arches to press further into him, needy, wanting. His other hand leaves your hip to replace his fingers with a balled-up piece of fabric, and then he snakes them down to the front of your waist. You have to clench down on whatever fabric he used to muffle you when he easily finds your aching nub and spreads your saliva over it before stroking in agonizing circles. Your teeth clamp down on the mysterious material.

His hips, on the other hand, start to smack against your ass with animalistic determination, like he wants to fuck you as fast as he can so he can get this over with. Which is fine by you, because it feels so fucking good. The force of his thrusts paired with the tips of his fingers rubbing your clit in rough, calculated strokes has your nails scraping on the wall due to the overwhelming pleasure building within you.

He starts to fuck you at a different angle and you almost cry out when he spears against your spot.

“There?” he asks, rocking in the same place experimentally when you clench around him. Your thighs start to shake.

“Mhmm!” you exclaim, voice muffled. He doesn’t stop fucking you there until you come, and even though you already can’t see shit, you definitely black out for a second. The material in your mouth isn’t helping your breathing situation but it’s preventing you from crying.

He hisses and then yanks out, lets go of your waist, and you involuntarily drop to your knees.

“Shit, my fault,” he mutters, but you’re focused on peeling the cloth out of your mouth. You weakly pull your jeans to your hips and turn around when he curses again, reaching out to find his dick as he jerks himself to completion. He stops and rips off the condom, thumb sliding over your chin and into your mouth to drop it open.

“Gonna come,” he growls. You nod and stick out your tongue, and using his thumb as guidance, slides his thick mushroom head past your lips, filling your mouth with hot ropes of cum. He emits some kind of purring sound as you swallow it all down and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

He steps back again and sighs heavily as he tucks himself in and fixes his belt while you wipe your mouth with the inside of your shirt. When he bends down to pick up his wallet, you wait for his hand to offer you help up off the floor, but he just turns around, leaving you to stand up on your own on shaky legs.

That’s not the vibe you were starting to get from him, but okay?

Swinging on your jacket with a bit of shame, you walk up behind him where he’s listening at the door for anyone outside, and realize that you just let this guy fuck you in a weird-smelling closet and come in your mouth before you even got his name.

“I’m Angel, by the way.”

“That’s nice," he says flatly.

“Did you flunk preschool? This would be the part where you tell me your name.”

“I'm good.” You scoff, taken aback. 

"Geez, dude. After all that, you can’t even tell me your name?”

"Nah. Not like we’re ever gonna see each other again, right?” That stings. He doesn’t have the courtesy to do something normal after doing something so unorthodox?

“Whatever, prick.”

When he opens the door, you toss the fabric at him and shove into his shoulder, not looking back as you hurry towards the stairs, taking two at a time to get away from him. The waitress gives you a wary look as you stomp towards her, offering an embarrassed apology while you gather your bags. You thank her, pass her a few more bills, and make an escape to the bathroom. You refuse to look in the mirror as you get yourself together. What the fuck were you thinking?

But as the universe would have it, he’s outside under the awning because of the rain, scrolling through his phone and smoking a cigarette with a foot propped on the wall.

Without slowing down, you walk by him, pluck the cigarette from his fingers and continue down the block. At the corner, you stop abruptly, and lift the stick to your lips, take a drag, then toss it into the street, staring right at him. He frowns and with the hand not stuffed in his jean pocket, raises his middle finger and you shoot him one right back, blowing out smoke and holding back a cough. You flag down a cab with a heavy weight in your chest that crawls up to your throat and threatens to imitate the storm pouring from the clouds above.

The rain follows you into the crowded restaurant and you do your best to shake it off of your clothes and shoes before you go in. An older male server rushes by carrying a tray of soju and shot glasses, beckons you further inside and gestures over to the far end of the room where a small empty table sits in front of the window. As you weave your way towards it, you pass by groups of friends, some couples, all having a good time staying out of the storm together. It makes you a little bitter and a lot lonely.

You sit down with your back facing away from the reminder that you’re the only one occupying a two-person table and order a bottle of soju and a hot bowl of noodles that will take away some of the wet chill clinging to your skin. As you wait, you lean back in your chair, arms crossed, and stare outside, reminiscing about old times. Old friends. Just a part of memories now.

As the server sets down the bottle and a glass, a motorcycle zooms by. The engine sounds like a single-cylinder with a good torque. A Ducati maybe?

A few minutes after you take a shot, you head to the bathroom and when you emerge, passing by the bar, you’re stopped in your tracks by the face of the man who makes your heart pound abnormally. He’s sitting a few barstools away from you, beanie gone, revealing orange hair and roots that could use a touch up, with a black and white bandanna tied under his chin, like it was being used as a mask. Was that what he stuffed in your mouth earlier?

You stare at him as he sips some dark liquor out of a whiskey glass and when he finally notices, he, for some reason, doesn’t look that surprised to see you.

“You again,” you scowl. “Who’s stalking who now?” He shrugs.

“This is a small island.”

Your eyes roll at his shit logic.

“Well, sorry to have ruined your whole ‘we’re never gonna see each other again’ bullshit.”

He doesn't reply, just frowns into his glass. Feeling hot all over, you stew as you stomp back to your table to retrieve your wallet, fishing out a large bill that you slap on the counter once you return to the bar. The bartender comes over and you make a point of looking over at the prick while you say,

"His drinks are on me." You linger your gaze on him, fighting your tongue when his jaw only clenches in response, and head back to your table in a huff.

You try to let it go and not sear holes through his back, instead focusing on your wonderful meal and full glass of soju. He can go to hell.

It seems that the universe has other plans in store when mid-bite, you feel a presence approach and you think it’s the server coming to check on you, but when you look up and the presence stops at your table, your heart skips at the musk that pummels your lungs and puts you in a chokehold. Because it’s the same one that enveloped you from behind not too long ago, strong enough to mask the stench of cleaning supplies. And the source of it slaps a familiar lone bill in front of you under a veiny, slender hand. He stares down at you with an unreadable look in his eyes. Glancing at the bill, you make no move to take it back or acknowledge the fact that he didn't let you pay, even though you just won a bunch of his money. What is this guy playing at?

"Take it."

"No," you shoot back, resuming your meal for an excuse not to look at him. 

He sighs and you think that's the end of it.

But then he scoots into the seat across from you. Your heart flatlines when he glances at you, barely acknowledging you or your shocked expression, and cards a hand through his hair, flipping his bangs away to showcase his forehead, clear of blemishes. Isn’t that fucking typical.

“Um, can I help you?”

“The kitchen’s closing soon and I want to order something,” he says casually as he gets comfortable.

“And you’re sitting at my table because? I thought I was annoying.”

“You are,” he replies, still not looking at you but at your bowl. “But all the other tables are full.”

You scoff and take a sweep of the restaurant, desperate to catch him in a lie - surely people have left and freed up spaces since you got here. Nope. The seat across from you was the only one empty. But why does he have to be the one who fills it?

“You could just go somewhere else.”

“It’s pouring out there.”

“Afraid you’ll melt?”

He flickers a small glare your way, then moves it behind you when the bell over the entrance announces a customer’s arrival. He’s acting indifferent, like he wasn’t just a complete dick, and you don’t know what to make of it.

“So does this mean you're done being an asshole to me now?”

“You think I should be nice or something?”

“That would be a start.”

“Aren’t you not supposed to be nice to strangers? Didn’t your mother ever teach you that?”

That draws a cloudy expression over your face. “I’m sure she would’ve if she was ever around.”

He looks at you and you can see a smidge of his hostile demeanor fall away. Your attention drops to your lap, waiting for him to give the little pity party you’re used to people throwing you when they find out you have an absentee parent. But he doesn’t, just shifts in his seat and lets a little tension out of his shoulders.

“Yoongi.”

Your eyebrows furrow as you look across again, thrown for a loop. “What?”

He shrugs, juts out his bottom lip in what you think is a pout. “You wanted my name, right?”

He looks shy and, dare you say, cute saying that. 

“Was that so hard? You know that makes us not strangers anymore,” you point out with a widening smile as he glowers at you.

You reach for the soju bottle but he leans forward and snatches it away. Puzzled, you withdraw your hand, but he gestures to your glass and mimes a pour. There’s uncertainty stitched between your brows as you pick up the glass and hold it out with two hands while he pours a shot. You can’t help but notice the scar etched in a jagged line across the back of his right hand turning the bottle, and you look away from it so you don’t gawk. But you’re curious.

Even though you don’t yet fully respect him, he is still 5 years older, so you turn to the side to knock the shot back. When you’re done, you silently offer to return the favor but he shakes his head, fills your glass once again and sets the bottle down, leaning back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest, glancing between you and the table with a dart of his tongue over his bottom lip.

You stare at the liquor, tips of your fingers dancing around the rim of the glass as you debate how much of your sobriety you should hold onto for the night.

“You’re not drinking?” you ask after you down the shot, wiping your chin.

“I’m driving.” You hum in acknowledgement.

“Are you gonna eat?”

He shakes his head. “I’m good.”

“I thought that was the whole point of sitting at my table.”

“I changed my mind.” Liar. He’s been eyeing your bowl ever since he sat down.

“You’re a shit liar. No wonder I cleaned you out.”

He flips you off and you just sigh. A lost cause. You catch the scar on the back of his hand again, the skin raised but healed.

The atmosphere between you since his gesture has slowed things down, setting a new pace that’s strange but not entirely unwelcome. The liquor spreading warmth in your chest loosens your inhibitions, bringing forth your curiosity.

"What happened to your hand?”

"Bar fight,” he replies a little too quickly. You don't believe that.

"Some bar fight." He rolls his eyes at your sarcasm but then his attention flickers back with a tick of his eyebrows when you lower the collar of your sweater, exposing the skin just below your right clavicle that displays your own gash.

“I got this when I used to race during my first couple years at university.” You smirk when both his brows shoot up, clearly not expecting your story. “I was drifting and my component spun out and drove me off the road and I smashed into a guardrail. He was fine, but my windshield shattered and a big piece of glass just wedged in right here.” You press a finger against the very visible healed stitching. “It hurt like a motherfucker, dug into my bone and all that, but the scar came out pretty bad ass, don’t you think?”

He tilts his head, as if not expecting you to sound somewhat proud of your preventable injury. “I’m sure you were smart enough to stop racing after that.”

“Yeah, but I still went to functions and stuff. And then one night, cops busted our spot and a bunch of us got arrested. I spent a couple days in jail and my brother had to come bail me out.” You pause to think about how irate Jin had been, flying halfway across the world to pay your bond, dragging Namjoon along to fight for you not to be charged. Jin chewed you out the entire time, about how dangerous that was and how you could’ve killed somebody and yourself. Of course you knew that, but you’ve always proved to be a damn good driver, only racing on empty roads after memorizing every wind, bump, and bend. You never let him see your scar because he would find a way to never let you see the light of day again. But then he made you transfer schools and you lost touch with your racing friends.

“And what was that you were saying earlier about being stuck alone somewhere with a felon?” He muses sarcastically.

Glossing over that snide remark, you launch into another anecdote, regaling him in the story of the first time you ever raced when you lost horribly to your brother and he never let you live it down. And the time you were the getaway driver when your brother and your friends decided to add to the graffiti collection under a bridge near school.

“I think you’re oversharing,” he intervenes when you bring your spiel to a close.

“Would you rather sit here and talk about the weather?”

“I’d rather not talk at all.” He looks down as soon as he says it and your eyes droop into a frown. Well, so much for that. Leave it to a guy to pull stupid shit like that.

“Right,” you mutter, leaning down to pick up your bag. “All I’m good for is a fuck.”

You get out your wallet and a large chunk of the cash that you won, leaving a sum for the bill on the table. As you rise, you fold a larger wad in half and slam it down next to his hands. He glances at it before dragging his gaze up to you, blinking a few times as you harshly stare him down. You sniff, swing your bag onto your shoulder, and turn your back on him.

“Stop.” You do and turn, slowly. “I know I’m an asshole, but I wasn’t implying that, okay?”

Blinking at his response, you step up to his edge of the table. You tilt your head, waiting for him to elaborate but when he doesn’t, a mildly disappointed sigh leaves your lungs.

“If that’s your idea of an apology…” He stares up as you hold him in suspense. “Then I’ll take what I can get.”

The tiny quirk of his lips has you plopping back in your seat, albeit a bit reluctant. As you set your bag back down, he slides the cash back over.

“But I’m not taking your money.” You frown.

“Well, at least order something to eat, I don’t mind treating. Unless you have that weird masculine thing where it’s offensive if a girl pays for food.”

A light smile threatens to break out on his face and you think it could be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

“Nah, I’m never one to turn down a free meal.”

He finally orders and you try not to watch him eat, finding it endearing the way he rests his fingers holding chopsticks against his cheek while he chews. So you just return to quietly sipping your drink and watching the rain beat down on the pavement, illuminated by the street lamps. Occasionally, bumps rise on your skin like they did earlier when you feel his eyes on you. You just let him stare because it makes you feel warm.

The bowl slides to the middle of the table and Yoongi sits back with a satisfied sigh.

The bell rings and Yoongi’s expression drops completely. He straightens in his seat, pulls the bandanna up over the lower half of his face and a dreadful feeling sinks into your gut when he grabs the chopsticks and holds them with a tight grip, veins popping and knuckles paling. You look over your shoulder and become washed with anxiety when you see a few men from the poker game heading straight for your table.

“Get your bag,” Yoongi mutters, shifting so his feet are turned to the side. Swallowing thickly, you bring up your backpack and wrap your arms across it, pressing it into your chest.

“So you decided to catch up to her before us. Well done, my friend,” the man says, clapping Yoongi on the shoulder. A cold front moves in on the tips of your fingers, settles a tundra in your gut and freezes you in your seat when Yoongi doesn’t look at you, just stares at the man above him.

Was this all just a ruse? He was just keeping you here so his friends could come and mug you? You’re not that naive.

Right?

Just when you start to doubt all of your life choices, Yoongi smacks off the man’s hand, leans forward with his eyebrows furrowed at you.

“I’m not with them.” Your heart races as you look between them. For once, you feel backed into a corner.

“Yes, you are, pretty boy. Because if you’re not, then it seems to me that you both plotted to set us up and that means you’re both in trouble.”

“No one plotted anything. I’ve never met him before,” you declare, catching onto their lie, washed over with relief.

“You just underestimated me and that’s not my fault.”

The man looks at you with an ugly lip curl.

“Oh, yes it is. You never should’ve been there in the first place, so hand me and my friends back our money and this all goes away. No one gets hurt.”

Yoongi’s jaw moves like he’s grinding his teeth. “That’s not what I heard,” he mutters.

Your clutch anxiously onto the sides of your backpack, not wanting to know what he means. You slowly reach under your chair to grab onto your duffle, ready to run at a moment’s notice.

He bends down to lean towards you. “Give me the money. Now.”

“Get out of her face, man,” Yoongi spits, standing with a hand on his shoulder to push him back. You stand as well, holding tightly onto both of your bags as you look back at the door, but for all you know, there are more men out there waiting.

You jump when the man attempts to snatch your bag but withdraws with a shout in pain, and you don’t expect to see Yoongi piercing his shoulder with the chopsticks. He yanks them out, keeps them in his fist, and shoves back the two men who crowd him, sending them into the tables behind. Dishes crash and customers leap up in exclamations of surprise, and Yoongi takes the opportunity to get behind you, hand flattened on your spine to compel you in the direction of the kitchen.

He seizes your duffle bag so you have an easier time moving, and you both ignore the protesting shouts from the chefs and servers as you run through the hot kitchen. As you stumble outside, the rain cascades over you, and your heart stops for a moment when you realize you have no plan to escape. But then he wraps his free hand around your forearm, glancing up as more shouts echo from the restaurant. He pulls down the bandana.

“This way.”

You both take off down the block, and in the midst of the sprint, Yoongi drops his hand to instead curl his fingers around your wrist and leads you across the street.

The scent of rain washes over you as your feet hit asphalt, a few honks blasting from cars you dart past. Yoongi puts himself between you and the vehicles that shout profanities at him and you can’t help the laugh that escapes you when he shouts right back and throws up a middle finger. You slide your hand into his palm to give him a good tug so he won’t end up in another squabble with an irate driver and he turns back to you. For some reason you’re smiling and when he looks at you, your heart races but it could easily be mistaken for exertion. But when you spot the crinkle at the corners of his eyes that tells you he’s smiling too and your pulse skips a beat, you know it has nothing to do with running.

You have no idea where he’s taking you. But at this moment, you trust him with your life. It’s freeing. And it’s nothing like you’ve ever felt before.

You run until you reach the end of the block where a black Ducati motorcycle is parallel parked in between a stretch of cars and he picks up a matte black helmet from the back and holds it out to you.

“Here, put this on. Hurry up.” The fiberglass is covered in droplets of rain. It means safety, but from this man who gave it to you? Who keeps throwing you for a loop?

A dilemma.

“Why did you come after me?”

“What?” he half-shouts over the loud pattering of downpour. “We don’t have time-”

You step up to stand face-to-face with him and he blinks confusion down at you, mouth open as his chest heaves, panting, orange hair darkened and drenched. You glance down at the chopsticks are still trembling in his hand. Adrenaline. He snaps them in half and throws them into the street where they get carried into the storm drain.

It’s raining, but there’s a fire. You repeat your question, keeping the helmet down at your side so there’s not more than an inch between you. He holds your gaze - doesn’t blink or look away. Darkness surrounds you, but there’s none in his eyes.

“I just did.”

He gives no reason, so neither do you when you bunch the front of his soaked black crew-neck and yank him into you, into a kiss that will be seared into your mind like a core memory. He doesn’t lean into it for a split second, like you caught him off guard, but when he does, grabs the side of your face to take over and opens your mouth with his tongue like he’s always meant to taste you, it’s messy and desperate, teeth clacking and mouths moving uncoordinated. It’s the hungriest you’ve ever been kissed. Drinking in the rain, drinking in each other, the helmet slips from your fingers and you don’t notice for a second until he breaks away from your swollen lips and holds it up to you.

“We gotta go.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, regret taking over. He shakes his head and places the helmet into your hands. You frantically look over your shoulder where a few men are catching up, pointing their fingers and shouting as they spot you.

“Come on,” he urges and you slip on the helmet, facing back to see him swinging his leg over the bike and starting up the engine. He sits with your duffle slung around his neck in front of him, chin on his shoulder as he glances back just as you slide behind him.

“Hold tight.” He barely gives you enough time to circle your arms around his waist before he kicks off the curb. The bike roars to life and he speeds it away from the pavement, taking off down the street and into the night. Full of possibilities. You rest your head between his shoulder blades, unable to see the way his fingers tighten around the handle bars. Staring off to the side, you watch the night go by, road illuminated by street lights and blurred out by the rain, and your heart hammers at the adventure of it all.

The engine still purrs when it comes to a stop, now far enough away from danger. The rain has reduced to a drizzle and your heartbeat thunders within the fiberglass. You flip up the visor so he can hear you marvel,

“You stabbed him.” For you. He stabbed a man for you.

“I know.”

“That was fucking metal.” His chuckle travels through his chest, so you can feel it in your own.

“I’m glad you think so.” ******* “So, where you headed?” he asks once he comes to the next stoplight. The smell of salt wafts in the air, tell tale sign of the beach.

“My hotel.” “Do you know the directions? I’m not google maps.”

You laugh against his back and tighten your hold around him. His muscles tense up beneath you. At this point, you think you’d let him take you anywhere, but you’re still feeling bad about the kiss.

“You don’t have to take me all the way there. Just drop me off at a bus stop, it’s around here somewhere.”

“Buses don’t run this late.” You know for a fact that they do, but you don’t want to dispute him. Especially if it means you can hold onto him like this for just a little longer. Damn. You hated him just a little bit ago. Crazy how fast things can change in the blink of an eye.

“I’ll take a cab then.”

A rev of the engine fills a pause. “It’s late.”

“What?” He clears his throat, talks over his shoulder.

“I said it’s late. And it’s raining. I’ll just drop you off.” A spread of heat in your chest makes this chilly night a bit bearable.

“I thought you’d be itching to get away from me.”

“Yeah, you’d think,” he mutters, hanging his head, sounding dismayed. Or bitter.

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch. Trust me.”

“You just want gas money, huh?” He huffs and tosses his head back, strings of wet hair allowing you a glimpse of his undercut.

“Just give me the damn directions.”

******* All too soon, the venture comes to an end when he pulls into the lot of the beachfront hotel. Quietly, he parks and shuts off the engine and it takes you a second to come down from your rush and realize you’re still holding onto him when there’s no reason to anymore. You snap yourself out of your daze of wishful thinking that this night will never end and remove your arms, immediately missing his warmth and touch. A little too quickly you move off of the seat and he straightens as you stand, removing the helmet and you miss the way he watches you shake out your hair. When you meet his gaze, your heart starts racing again, butterflies multiplying beneath your diaphragm as he stares at you for a moment before glancing down to the helmet you hold out to him. He accepts it with a subtle nod and rests it in his lap while you internally panic, trying to find something not stupid to say so this whole ordeal with him doesn’t end.

“Well, thank you. I half-expected you to ditch me on the side of the road and ride off with my money.”

He leans forward with a soft snort, resting his wrists on the center of the bars, and your heart starts to do gymnastics at the notion that he finds you amusing because it gives you hope that he’s interested enough to not leave yet.

“I’m not that much of an asshole.”

“No, but you’re pretty close.”

“And yet you got on my motorcycle.”

“You told me to trust you and I do.”

“You just said you expected me to ditch you and take your money.”

“Half-expected,” you emphasize. “There’s always room for doubt.”

Just the corner of his mouth quirks up in a smile and you don’t want to see it leave.

“Speaking of room, do you have a place to stay?”

“Not around here,” he shakes his head, leaning back to stuff his hands in his jacket pockets. “But I have a friend across town who’ll let me crash, so I should probably get going.”

Tonight, with this man, has been an entire amusement park of emotions. From obscene attraction, to utter loathing, to being enlivened and now to just being plain disappointed. You don’t want to get off this ride just yet.

You squat down and drop your bag to the ground, digging into the front pocket for a pen and notepad. After you find one and rip out a page, you straighten and stride up to the bike without looking at him, writing down the number of your room. You fold it up once you’re done, passing it over, and watch him hesitate before accepting it.

“In case you change your mind,” you say, pointing at the page with your pen as you cap it. “Or if your friend doesn’t want a felon crashing on their couch.”

“And you wouldn’t mind a felon crashing with you?”

“I let a felon fuck me in a goddamn closet. What do you think?”

He holds your stare for a moment before a subtle amused smile breaks on his otherwise neutral expression.

“Well, that’s good to know,” he says, shaking his head, and looks at the note for a second longer, then stuffs it in his jacket.

You sense an impending ‘but.’

“But-” You hate being right. “I think I’ll be okay. You should head inside, it’s starting to rain again.”

Not knowing what else to do besides stare at the ground and contemplate if you should write down your number too, you awkwardly hold out your hand, and then upon realizing how weird that is, quickly change your mind and retract it. Embarrassment flooding your cheeks, you reach down to snatch up your bag and turn around. You don’t wave, don’t say anything because what else is there to do? You don’t want to say it was nice to meet him because you’re still trying to figure out if it was, nor do you want to say ‘see you’ because you’re not sure if you ever will after this. 

You don’t look back, and as you head towards the main entrance where you can pick up your room key, the sound of the motorcycle revving into gear echoes around you and it’s only when it disappears in the distance do you turn around, wishing you weren’t watching him go. More like you were still on the back.

.

.

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thanks for reading!! let me know what you think! i love to yap!!

xxx - claret p.s. i wrote the poker scene after watching a ten-minute wiki-how video on how to play texas hold 'em lmao

masterlist

taglist: @rinkud @taegijns @viankiss @polarnightmyg @futuristicenemychaos @busanbby-jjk @lixies-favorite-cookie

[enpr-ss]

What kinda title is that Etho. Can't believe it started off with Bdubs and Etho slut-shaming each other. Truly manifested the superhero powers thing He called Scar a little bugger LOL.

Gem, sick of his bs: if you kill me I’ll kill you Etho, knowing that he can’t: deal

Bdubs: with our powers combined, We! Will! Win! Tango: *fails at walking* glugbub

Etho: "This is like Tango’s dream he can kill Skizz over and over and over today"

That would have been a pretty sick kill if Skizz didn’t give it to him and didn’t say the limited life line LOL

Cannot believe Bdubs went “Get him doggy!” and Etho went straight for Ren and they both whiffed. Etho WAS right in that Ren was hiding his ability.

Oh his TNT minecart trap finally went off! And he’s totally still a wuss. Rip Tango LOL.

Gem making fun of Etho’s aim AGAIN.

HE NEARLY DIED TO THE SAME TRAP HE SAW JOEL MAKING HAHAHAHAA. Him using the wind charge to bounce his way up is pretty cool, because there could be more than just a fall damage trap, until you realize that he probably forgot that he didn’t take fall damage.

Tango’s speediness matches his hair! And his witty one liners match superhero quips too. Tango, sarcasm dripping off his voice: “Banana is a good one it’s original I like it”

Wait who’s that flying in the air? Grian or Pearl? Omg it’s Flee with extra flee! Can’t believe I didn’t get it

They really did manifest that vulnerable bed kill on Bdubs. Literally killed him in his sleep.

GEM GOT CUT OFF AT THE PERFECT TIME LOOOOOOOL. Her power being more of a curse as she’s continued to be bothered by ghosts LOL.

The way Tango knows EXACTLY what Etho’s up to. Drift compatible indeed

That was a NICE escape!! But what will he do once he’s out of enderpearls? Wait did Grian copy a soundbite of Bdubs? Because it really sounded like Bdubs’ voice then. Also he copied Ren just to get Tango. Incredible. The entire server trying to kill Tango but he’s just too fast. He’s so annoying to them too HAHAHA. Really giving some Gem vibes with how he keeps taunting and encouraging their attempts. THAT WAS SUCH A COOL AND BUTT CLENCHING ESCAPE!! HE USED HIS LAST PEARL AND EVERYTHING!!! IT WAS SO CLOSE OMG. THAT CLUTCH U-TURN!!! Impulse’s complaints fading away: “You know it’s harder than it looks when the guy has superspeed" WHAT IS THIS KILL BOX LOL. He survived so many attempts honestly it’s amazing. AND THEN THE DUMB CREEPER AHAHA

Tango villain arc and redemption of his pathetic status continues!!!!This POV is so good; I'm actually rewatching it! So many classic Tango noises and Tango-isms!

What was that flustered stutter when Etho accusse you of slut shaming hypocrisy, huh?? IS BDUBS SUPERPOWER JUST SLEEPING LOOOL oh he slows time down. He doesn’t even have the clock skin on!!! How dare!!! Everyone is so happy for him though.

Feminist Bdubs defending girly war cries. It was so high pitched it went into breath.

Bdubs: “Me handsome? That was your line??” LOL COMING FROM THE “Looks like the hammer just found a nail” GUY

He really did walk into that end crystal; what was he expecting. Same with the bed too.

His tower is never safe just like Joel's car.

That was such a good view of Scar and Joel working together to get Tango.

Bdubs is doing the Scott thing of just being nice and agreeable with everyone.

Not a single legitimate kill from the 3 of them. Meeting expectations!

Gem: “He’s like our side-widow” LOL. And she’s so aware of the fandom and its tropes She gets spectator mode and she HATES Freecam LOL. And at the perfect moment to see Scar fail his MLG bucket. Mumbo and Skizz were perfectly placed so that she could find out that she could talk to them!!! MUMBO BEING YELLED AT FOR BEING BAD AT HIS ONE JOB BOTH IN LIFE, ZOMBIE, AND GHOST LIFE! By Grian, Cleo, and Gem HAHAHA. Gem, unimpressed with Mumbo’s excuses: “Truly I understand why you’re out of the series.” Gem successfully negotiating for the Zombie Union with Cleo who hates her, both fully aware that she’s giving away information about her ability. Gem: “He’s really pathetic but he’s a great teammate… he’s our idiot!” Grian concocting this complex multi layer plan LOL and Gem having the same idea first! Gem’s so happy to finally kill!! Joel’s just goofing around killing horses. She just no sells that trap; didn’t even do a heart, and the camel only lost half a heart. Of course she’s going to pillar to that chest!! It was so obvious!!! And the final line of “I wasn’t even thinking about you guys” HAHAAH

Gem, completely unimpressed with Ren and BigB: “I don’t believe you. You just rolled a -1 on intimidation” finally someone competent omg

Grian, disraught: “My zombie! He just walked right in front of me!” Gem, faux sympathetic: “Oh, are you reliving your trauma?”

Gem yelling at Mumbo and Skizz at their incompetence never gets old.

They were literally hiding behind trees trying to ambush her LOL They trapped her, 3v1ed her, she still got out and made BigB scared!!! What a player. Took 5 people 4 attempts to get her and even then it took Scott cheating to do so. She’s so happy that she gets to kill now. And the complete ignoring of Pearl? Chef’s kiss.

Mumbo never learns his lesson. The berating of Mumbo of the completely unsuccessful trap and then Gem punching him to die by Joel… that’s just bullying. Mumbo even made distressed prey noises

Her longing to be on red is increasingly evident. Her surprise at people trying to kill her is also a bit dense though. And she’s actually using her x-ray vision frequently to check for traps and stuff. Very good.

Her winged goggles are so cool; I cannot wait for the fanart. The 4Gs going to a testing field like every single fanfiction ever. Wait when did BigB join?? All the cool powers and Scott’s just resigned to a lame one.

The panic with Impulse when they realize that Gem’s going to figure out the unfinished trap and also when she accidentally breaks her mace on a joke punch on Ren.

Her not even realizing that she can elytra glide

They just finished the trap and Gem and Joel are there. And even then it failed miserably. And then she broke the calibrated sculk sensor LOL.

The creaking ambush really would have been a cool way to kill Gem. And of course Pearl gets poisoned and can’t join in the fun.

Look at her chasing down Scar for answers for killing her teammate.

The way Cleo manifested scary Gem into the group. Her elation at being feared is adorable.

They finally got Tango!! And all it took was listening to Pearl. And they did the same thing to Joel rip.

Joel’s just accepted that he can’t actually do anything nor deny anything to Lizzie or else it’s the couch or the literal dogbed.

Joel’s triple jumping matches his obsession with speedbridging and parkour. It’s so wholesome to see him giving Scar a wild ride.

And again with the soft voice tone when talking to Lizzie or Jimmy

Joel: “Grian you muppet”

Also Joel: “We’re the 3 best friend that ANYONE can have~”

The way Joel barely needs any encouragement to kill. He just one-shots them from above. And then sings silly songs about his AFK friends while guarding them (Limited Life much) and yelps when Tango pops up. So cute. Joel’s so happy to keep killing Mumbo and Skizz so that they remain ghosts and thus on Grian and Gem’s side LOL. Looks like he was pretty successful on that front. Doesn’t need a reason honestly since Skizz blew up his car.

Joel making weird thinking mouth noises and Gem loyally in the background: “How dare you embarrass him”

She’s so resentful that she can’t kill Lizzie because otherwise Joel’s sleeping on the couch.

Joel being mad and violent content never fails to entertain.

Everyone desperately trying to get him with his own trap WHICH WONT WORK BECAUSE HE DOESNT TAKE FALL DAMAGE LOL. What an op ability. Even all the way to the end, no one remembers this.

“I’m the last green woooo!” *Lizzie tries to kill him* *gets teleported to the kill box and dies*

The elation when the zombies are back so that he can kill them. Ah I see he was keeping an eye on who’s coming up the tower and wisely got out of Scar’s way just in time. And all the confusion on who’s who especially when Martyn died but it was actually Ren is HILARIOUS.

What a beautiful kill on Pearl and Scott. He’s really redeemed himself this season. And fulfilled his promise of going after Pearl once he’s on yellow. Poetically blowing up both her and Scott. Grian and Jimmy's triumphant screeches were also reminiscent of Limited Life.

NO FUN ALLOWED; ONLY PVP AND ANGST. Oh Grian can copy. Of course. Martyn, Jimmy, Gem, and then Scott just spying on each other. And then Martyn and Grian calling each other like sending off their man to the war LOL. Look at him being all teacher-ly in showing them their powers. Kinda :/ that he’s revealing Gem’s abilities like that but whatever.

Did he just call Scar a “passenger princess?” They’re definitely having fun pandering to the fandom with that sunset ride but it’s so good! The cutesy voice as he blows out the candles. And why does Scar even need thorns I call FAVORITISM!!! Also hilarious irony that Grian awkwardly escapes Scar only to fall from the time limit LOL.

Grian really can’t resist being his friends back into the series as the undead huh? First with Jimmy in Secret Life and now this.

MUMBO WALKED IN FRONT OF HIS ARROW LOOOOOOOL. CLASSIC!! Same wail of grief again. That high speed chase of Tango!!!

HE WAS A FULL HEALTH AND HE DIED TO MUMBO!!! Mumbo lured him in and stabbed him while he was down with 0 food. That was nuts!!! Physical and emotional wounds, Cleo-style.

Grian’s like a vengeful widow on a killing spree!! Jimmy’s power really is OP. Although we all saw that miss on SKIZZ

Grian, growling: “You filthy TRAITOR! *Impulse swaps* NO WHY DID YOU TAKE MUMBO AWAY FROM ME?!” THE TIMING!!! This season has all been about ironic comedic timing and it DELIVERED!!!! Mumbo’s squeaky prey noises are back!! And Grian’s despairing laugh. Hunted him down and even pre-gapped. Lore-ing it up!!

Hell hath no fury like a widow scorned.

All the mimicking, swapping, and body doubles gives off among us vibes.

Oh wait so Bdubs WAS right that Grian was the one who slowed down time to trap Tango.

All the Tango traps omg!!! So many things were happening it was so COOL!!!

The outrage that Mumbo wasn’t like this when he was alive and allied with him. The half hearted attempt to stop Joel from dying. I mean he could have swapped out with him but that would mean dying and being out of the series.

Mumbo: am I back in the series- *Grian murders him*

Jimmy’s perfect timing when Lizzie got swapped into the Kill Box!!

Grian taking every opportunity to kill Mumbo LOL. Him being confused by Ren looking like Martyn even though he made the powers and could clearly hear Ren’s voice really shows how underutilized the body double ability is. Hilarious though.

That stealing of Cleo’s power, getting Martyn back and killing Ren!! What an amazing way to end the episode. “End of the session for you!” he rumbles. Perfection no notes.

Grian really did have a different voice for narration / just talking and being angry / necromancer. More growly and deeper and commanding.

Scar got his knockback punch he’s been talking about since the start. And is the riding thing a wheelchair joke? It’s a tragedy that he didn’t get to ride a ravager. And of course he falls down Grian’s trap after successfully avoiding BigB’s hole. He’s having too much fun having a knockback punch and riding everything.

The circus music as he fails to mace people on Joel’s head is such vibes honestly.

Can’t believe he actually went for Cleo because of Grian and he successfully 1v2ed Mumbo and Skizz. That was pretty decent PVP.

Murdering all the wildlife thinking it’s Scott LOL. I noticed that he goes after whoever directs him to do so if they had recently done him a favor. And everyone is willing to give Scar a ride.

He finally got Martyn! And Scott!!!

What WAS that with Jimmy and Tango. And Scar walking into a moment again.

The soft “no Grian” as he walks into lava right next to him. Frantically looking through his inventory for a water bucket. Once again too late to save Grian from fire. I don’t think Grian planned on Scar helping, but it’s funny that Scar keeps thwarting and failing all assassination plans. Scar playing creeper golf is fantastic.

Omg he took Martyn out of the series. With straight PVP and better armor. He really does go for whoever gives him a reason to in the moment. It just so happens that Pearl and Grian are the typical revenge reasons. Everyone makes fun of Scar but he always comes in clutch because of how they underestimate him.

Wait Martyn’s intro was so extra omg. THE TITLE CARDS?!?!? Of course Martyn’s a listener. That perfect timing of that call with Grian.

The way he casually uses the distraction of Skizz dying to avoid facing being caught out in his lie LOL. AND TRIVIABOT!!! OMG.

WHAT WAS THAT AD LOOOOOL?!? So much for the snail pin. He’s definitely getting style points for sure.

That kill box on Gem! And his nosy listening all over the place.

Would love to have a Tango and Martyn team up just to have that witty blonde solidarity.

Martyn’s traps are NOT working this season. Everyone’s too aware.

PHILZER IM CRYING OMG

The shade thrown at Mumbo and Jimmy’s lack of awareness. That was a pretty cool entrance. And despite fumbling at the beginning, he absolutely was the clutch of that trap on Tango. Put down the cobwebs and the pearl to place the creeper right in his path; even had the flint and steel to set it off immediately if the windcharge from Ren didn’t launch it at the worst possible time. All the battle plans getting in each other’s way. Also that was an AMAZING POV to see Tango’s u-turn from.

Asking Gem for permission to get Joel. Her lust for chaos and violence is just too strong.

Bro the sound design is so good!! The MHA cards and art!!!!

That staredown between Grian and Martyn as Martyn’s listening activates. And then chaos. RIP TANGO LOL. Tango has got his wits about him until he doesn’t LOL.

Why weren’t you eating??? And why would you put a creeper down at below half health with a guy with better armor and a knockback sword? What a chaotic death TO HIS OWN CREEPER HAHA. and the nothing card for Jimmy is good.

That voice acting as Imp #3 was so good LOL. And the final cut as Gem killed him!!! Also for a moment I thought it was going to be “Blessed be those who subscribe” LOL. It would have been fun to see him as a Zombie for longer.

Definitely winning on editing and style points.

Cleo as the Zombie Queen with her two bumbling henchmen!!! I love her video title. The warden noise, darkness, and lightning strike effect is SO COOL. THE G STANDS FOR GOONS LOOOOOL.

Cleo: “Could you maybe stay alive for more than 5” *Grian just casually one shots Mumbo while passing through* … *Joel just drops in from nowhere and one-shots Skizz* They haven’t even got orders or left the bridge yet!! LOL

Cleo: you guys are uh… difficult to keep alive *Joel comes bouncing in and one shots both of them AGAIN* IMPECCABLE TIMING IM CRYING

Well at least Grian apologized for killing her zombies right after she geared them up. She’s so done with them.

How is this like the 5th time someone is a cheater / traitor in this season. And then Skizz asking for more resources aka “standard working conditions” LOL

Tango: “It’s so hard getting good zombie help these days”

Forever exasperated at her mom role to two fools, wow can’t imagine how she’s somehow used to it *looks at Bdubs*, complaining during the one time that they were competent and did their job of killing Grian HAHA.

Tango: “We don’t need zombies with lip here; just do as you’re told, corpse!”

Instantly summoned and instantly died to Scar LOL.

“Go kill Jimmy!” *runs around swinging at nothing* LOL. No complicated plan with them ever works.

Cleo absolutely done with Skizz and having Mumbo as her favorite, because he’s actually not useless. Very minion-y because he’s on mute LOL. Mumbo gets the job done while Skizz is still begging for food from Cleo HA.

Mumbo: “Ugh gosh Gem’s getting real boring. She’s saying how much better she is than you.”

Cleo: “well I mean you know…. she’s not wrong”

Mumbo: “As your zombie, I have to agree with you.”

That slo-mod mid air turn with his bow fully drawn was very cool of Grian.

Omg they broke his chest plate that’s how Tango died in the killbox.

MUMBO’S INTRO I CANT. “How good do you think AI is, Impulse?” Skizz and Mumbo rolling up just to insult Grian HAAHA. HE DIED TO A CREAKING??? HAHA

The shade at Skizz’s skill issue. The perfect timing on Gem astral projecting. They had 0 idea who it was! The way they just dug their hole deeper when Gem discovered them. The complete failure to tell Gem about Skizz blowing up the car when he volunteered to watch is peak Mumbo.

Seeing Joel come bouncing in to kill Skizz and Mumbo is so good!!

Mumbo really did just lure and backstab Grian like that. Cleo didn’t order him to lie; he did that all by himself. Him laughing “I lied! I’m sorry!” as he kills Grian was tragicomedy at its finest. I mean he’s right; it’s a bit embarrassing that Mumbo didn’t die in one hit by Grian or Gem. Truly the best moment of his life. Wished he could have had that when he was alive.

What an accidental save by Impulse.

Give him an end crystal and he’s got it. He really has all the good ideas and initiative and ability to see it through. It pained him to have to do bad redstone and punch stone with his fist.

That was excellent editing. “Gem was getting real boring” *gets blown up by Gem*

Wonderful kills on Tango and Joel. “Am I back in the series yet guys- *slain by Grian* -oh.”

Omg he wasn’t even aware which one was Ren. Just by paying attention to Grian’s info, he causally knocks Ren to his death. Truly a killing machine once you remove his limitations.

“I got removed by my own friend” OOOF.

Wait Mumbo brought down the final greens? 6 kills? Nice! Truly living up to Kills A Lot. Only took both of them like 12 deaths to get the ball rolling. No wonder everyone targets Mumbo and doesn’t respect him; he’s so distressed prey coded. Even has the high pitches noises like a squeaky chew toy too. Yelps like a kicked puppy.

Of course Skizz starts talking about unions and working conditions. Mumbo actually went and killed Grian while Skizz was just giving Scar a ride. And disobeyed orders to taunt BigB for no reason whatsoever. Now Skizz joined Mumbo in SOMEHOW blowing himself up. And also he died by falling via Etho.

Skizz’s POV showed how many times Impulse failed to get someone in his trap. And the failed attempt to get Ren with BigB.

Joel and Grian really do just flounce in to kill Skizz and Mumbo whenever they resurrect.

THE NEGATIVE SCORES ON TABLIST!!! Was the final count like -15?? I think -19 for Mumbo, -1 for Martyn, and -16 for Skizz

Everyone’s so excited to kill the zombies and take their anger out on them. And complain about why couldn’t they have been like this when they were alive. Skizz and Mumbo are the same in life death and unlife: sassy and incompetent. Their cheerful “yay”s everytime they get resurrected is so cute.

Two of the BAMboozlers having invisibility powers is SO COOL. I cannot believe it took me reading the comments to realize that Lizzie’s powers are literally just “Shadow Lady”. Now that I think about it; Jimmy’s and Lizzie’s are really powerful because visibility are such a key factor with all the other OP powers.

The way Jimmy immediately gives up the secret just to make an entrance and make fun of Skizz and Mumbo.

Huh he’s on top of it this season. Making the correct deductions every time!

The tension between him and Scott and then immediately the same one but angstier with Grian.

Wow this team actually respond to team codes in the chat.

Jimmy: “Lizzie can we bam your husband?” Lizzie, with 0 hesitation: “Yeah sure why not”

He failed to trap Gem even as she’s out of her body LOL.

He’s just happy to be here. And at least he popped Impulse’s totem.

Scot poetically can shift into any Minecraft mob; especially the one that always dies for the benefit of the player. But the reveal was HILARIOUS. And seeing him in the background of other’s POVs is like movie Easter eggs. Scott: “BigB wasn’t finishing up” LOL The way Scott and Jimmy were silently trying to punch each other LOL. He’s doing the same inflections and phrases to Gem as Pearl to try to get her to like him LOL. Excellent acting.

Impulse: “Well it wouldn’t be a session without Skizz falling to his death” LOL

They finally got Gem and even then he was so mad that she got out of the box LOL.

His swapping powers, even when it’s goes wrong, is so great. Not him using pearls when he could use a trapdoor or just you know teleport in. Not Impulse crouching and squinting into the distance from the top of the tower lol. You had the enderpearls AND YOUR SUPERPOWER…. Rip the totem. He’s so salty! HE USED THE WRONG FOOT FOR THE HOTKEY LOOOOL. Wait he gets refillable enderpearls??? WHY.

BIGB IS A CREAKING OMG. He be creaking all over the place. And his stare doesn’t affect them and they don’t go after him!! Very cool. I felt like one even gave a twirl and nod of acknowledgement. The way Scott had to run away from the creaking after he mimicked a creaking is the funniest thing omg

Ren has to fart everytime he use his power and he fails so many times LOL. Especially in the windowless basement. Ren my guy what was that.

So many spies this session. No convo is safe from eavesdropping. Each POV we find out that actually Scott or Gem or Martyn or whatever was listening in LOL. Definitely got me to watch every POV. HGZ fans going WILD. Grian is absolutely pandering to the fandom right now and we love it!!!!! Wonder how the fandom will incorporate these powers into the lore.

[fallininlust]

( I ) DECEMBER SECOND

♱ — SUNSHINE ON MY LIFE [ PT. ONE ] !

pair. nick x m!reader genre. fluff w a bit of nostalgia

word count : [ 2k ]

description : snowflakes / fingerless gloves / flickering lampposts / crescent moon / tall snow / lingering children on the streets / snow angels / pink, sniffling noses / white clouds overhead / long walks / snow clinging to eyelashes / melancholic nostalgia / childish wonder / saddening memories / and frost bite

Your presence will be sun in winter.

Alfred Lord Tennyson, To The Rev F.D. Maurice !

Winter was always your favorite season.

It reminded you so deeply of your childhood, of the innocence you once carried when the white would fall and the cold would tint your nose a shade pinker with its bite of frost. The melancholic nostalgia that followed the snow was a resonating one, felt by everyone it touched.

And you were one of those people.

You were quick to stuff your gloved hands in your pockets after adjusting your camouflage beanie. You sniffled every now and then, kicking flakes of snow with the toe of your Timberland boots. Your AirPods were sitting comfortably in your ears, softly listening to Seasons by 6lack and Khalid, and letting your mind wander to all the memories you held with snow — with the cold. All the glimpses you got of your little self running around all bundled up for the freezing season, a time where you were constantly happy with little to no care in the world.

It was funny how things changed and time flew.

How years seem to fly by and, before you know it, the things you loved become things you cannot stand and vice versa. How blissful ignorance became anxiety over every little thing that crossed your mind. Time was an interesting thing.

But the more interesting idea was how someone never knew what they’d lost until it was gone. How you wouldn’t understand how difficult life would be until you’ve reached that point of growing up and wished upon every star that you could go back to when you hadn’t cared for anything and nothing genuinely mattered.

So deeply lost in the thought of life, you hadn’t noticed your boyfriend peeking out from his childhood home’s living room window or how your steps were slowing because of how deeply you were thinking. You completely forgot about your boyfriend’s impatient nature, and you didn’t notice how he came barreling toward you — capturing you in a tight hug. Your first instinct was to tense and push the person away from you, but the familiar scent of your love allowed you to lean into his touch, melting into his warmth.

With the heat that radiated off of him, it was easy to forget just how harshly the cold was biting at the exposed skin of your face. Your hands left your pockets with haste, wrapping your arms around his waist, and pulling him closer to you. You wanted to be as close to him as inhumanly possible. His arms were locked around the back of your neck, burying his head in the juncture between your shoulder and your neck, nuzzling as closely as he could. His breathing was steady but blowing directly on your skin, sending a shudder down your spine due to the difference of his breathing and the air outside with the pair of you.

Nick pulled back slowly, a slow and soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he stared fondly at your frostbitten nose. “Hi, baby.” He greeted you officially, a wider grin enveloping his features when you tugged him closer again. “Ya’ cold, huh?”

“I was freezing,” you retorted with the smallest attitude that lost any of its bite with your next words, “then you hugged me, and I forgot what season it was.”

His cheeks flushed, tinting brighter than that of the tip of your nose and it was all because of your words. He slapped your shoulder, albeit playfully. “You can’t jus’ say things like that!”

Your lips quirked up in an amused smirk at his faux outrage. “Why not?”

“Because!” He huffed out, but left the playful disagreement alone after that. “Now, get ya’ ass inside the house before we both get hypothermia from this.”

“Yes, sir.” You murmured quietly, feeling sick with all the love and warmth he gave to you with a few touches and his hold. You pressed a soft and lingering kiss to his forehead, chuckling when his ears burned the same color as his face.

When he continued to complain about your overly sweet gestures, you shook your head in amusement. He thought his words would stop you from expressing your love for him.

He was very wrong.

One of your hands that’d been resting on his hip bone reached up to grasp his jaw tenderly. He was quieted by your lips slotting with his smoothly. Your eyes had fluttered shut, feeling the warmth of his body overtake your body temperature. The kiss was soft and tentative, slow with every move of your lips and slip of your tongues.

You reluctantly pulled away from his lips first, looking at him softly. His lips were still parted and his eyes were still fluttered shut.

“Shut me up like that forever,” he mumbled breathlessly, “please.”

“Whatever you want.” You knew the gentle smile on your face was audible with every word that left you. You waited for his eyes to open back up, falling in love with the color of his eyes all over again. “I’ll never get over how pretty you are.”

His eyes immediately darted away from your intense gaze. “Stop it.”

Your hand that remained on his jaw slowly moved upward. Your fingers carefully tracing every slope and plane of skin along his cheekbone, running the back of your knuckles along the growing stubble of his jaw. “What if I don’t wanna’?”

“Ya’ too sweet t’me.”

“I think I’m the perfect amount of sweet t’ya’, angel.”

His breath came out shaky. “Nuh-uh,” he tried to argue against the feeling of your tentative fingers on his face, “too … too sweet.”

Your lips pulled back into a smirk, removing your hand away from where it had cradled his face to cup his waist again, pulling him closer into your body. “Think I’ll have to spoil you a lil’ more today if that’s what ya’ really think, sweetheart.”

“Please?” His eyes had rounded, pupils expanding the tiniest bit.

“Whatever you want.”

♱

The difference between the outside chilled, frost biting air and the warmth of the heater in the house was felt immediately.

Your body was being tugged along by Nick, who’s grip on your hand was tight and he was pulling you along quite quickly — much to your ever growing amusement.

You stopped his relentless tugging when the pair of you had reached the living room of his childhood family home. He whined under his breath, nearly stomping one of his feet when he turned to see what you were doing. You raised an eyebrow, smiling at his needy nature.

To make him all the more impatient, you purposefully took off your fingerless gloves at the slowest pace possible. You toed out of your Timberlands, shedding the layered hoodie (of which made your shirt underneath rise the slightest bit to expose your hip bones, making Nick eye you eagerly) and jacket you adorned — followed by the removal of your beanie. You were left in a white T-Shirt, gray sweatpants, and black socks. You took out your AirPods to put them in the case you kept in your pocket.

He grabbed ahold of your hand again, pulling you with him despite your chuckles. When you passed the kitchen, you saw his family sitting together around the kitchen’s island. You stopped following Nick, planting your feet against their floors. He huffed at your lack of need. You sent him a wink, freeing yourself from his tight grip and wandering over to greet his family in the polite manner you’d been taught once upon a time.

“Hey, fam’, how are we?” You grinned when all eyes turned to you.

Everyone cheered your name with an amount of joy that made your heart swell, they all stood from their stools and approached you.

Mary-Lou was the first to, wrapping her arms around your middle, and squeezing tightly when your arms embraced her shoulders. “How are you, sweet boy?”

Your smile softened at her tone, she was so maternal it made your chest ache. “I’m doin’ alright, Mama Mary. How’ve you been?”

“Even better now that my home has the entire family in it.” She beamed up at you when she pulled back from the hug, reaching up to cradle your face between her soft hands. “You have to come around more often, you hear me?”

Your eyes had to have been twinkling with the amount of happiness that surrounded you. “Yes, ma’am.” You nodded, leaning into her hands. Your eyes crinkled with the strength of your smile when she pulled your head down to plant a kiss your forehead.

The second she backed away, Jimmy placed a firm hand on your shoulder, pulling you into his strong embrace. Your arm closest to his body reached up to wrap around his shoulders, chuckling when he shook you playfully. “It’s good to see you, kiddo.” He smiled at you, squeezing your shoulder for reassurance.

“You, too, Jimmy.” You grinned at him brightly, nearly eye-to-eye with the tall man.

Justin was next in line when Jimmy stepped away. He stared at you blankly, making your eyebrow arch expectantly. He burst out laughing at the silence he’d caused, wrapping his arms around you quickly. “Nice to see ya’, man.”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded before pushing him off you to punch his shoulder playfully, “better be nice to see me.” He grinned at your cheeky nature, bumping his arm with yours as he walked to sit next to his mother.

That was when the other two thirds of the triplets approached you warmly, dapping you up individually and pulling you into one-armed hugs in sequence.

“We missed ya’, man.” Matt greeted you, still a little shy and quiet, but more welcoming than he had been the previous times.

“Yeah, kid, you gotta come ‘round more often.” Chris agreed with his brother, a grin stretching across his face that only grew when he noticed Nick behind everyone.

Nick had his arms crossed, a pout of sorts on his lips, but his eyes were incredibly soft as he looked at everyone in his family interacting warmly with his boyfriend. The look in his eyes was quick to change when gazes turned to him. He started looking around at everyone expectantly, tapping his sock-clad foot silently against the flooring.

“Can I have my boyfriend back now?” He sassed them, pressing his lips together to stop himself from laughing along with everyone else that had started snickering at his clinginess. You, on the other hand, were looking at him lovingly.

“Don’t stay up there too long, boys.” Mary-Lou looked between them sternly. “I want to have dinner with everyone here.”

“Of course, mom.” Nick agreed with her quickly to get back to his task, reaching out to grab your hand again, and pulling you toward the stairs that would lead you to his room.

Before leaving entirely, you saw the mischievous look in Chris’ eyes — a gaze he shared with Justin as he smirked. “Don’t forget to use protection!” He called out to the pair of you.

“Oh, my god!” Nick froze at the call out, groaning in complete embarrassment. “Stop talkin’ forever, Chris. Jesus Christ.” He picked up the pace, dragging your figure that was shaking with laughter from Chris’ comment. “Ignore him, please!” He begged his family loudly before slamming the door shut as soon as you were both in his room.

Your eyebrows were raised as you looked at him silently, knowingly.

He groaned again. “Don’t start!”

Your hands shot up, demonstrating your alleged innocence in the situation. But the smirk on your lips gave your intentions away.

You approached him slowly then, your hands lowering to rest at his hips in hopes of getting him to calm down. You moved the fabric of the sweater he was wearing, rubbing small circles on the skin overtop his bones.

He sighed silently, relaxing into your touch, and wrapping his arms around your neck.

“What was that I said about spoilin’ you?” You murmured against his mouth, your breath caressing his lips quietly. The pair of you were close enough to kiss, but you kept yourself just out of reach to tease him.

“Oh, please?”

icarus inquires . . .

since i didn’t do a kinktober / flufftober, figured i’d do something for december. so welcome to my twelve days of christmas where i post a fic every other day until ( my ) christmas ( dec. 24 ) !

tags . . .

@mattsfavoritestar / @peiivnao / @joopsworlx

[slytherin-princess-x]

First day of slytherinmas:

Pretty girl -- Lorenzo x reader

Tw: mention of sex, Enzo kissing readers neck

Summary: sometimes enzo can be quite hot and cold…. (Fluff)

YOUR POV:

I love Enzo, I really do but this boy sure knows how to drive me up the wall whether it’s on purpose or not. He’s either all over me, too close still isn’t close enough; or, he’s the most quiet person ever who would rather sit in silence. Today was that kind of day. Pansy had taken me out earlier this Saturday to Hogsmead for new clothes because we can never have enough outfits, or whatever she said, but, when I got back something was up with enz. I mean he just appeared in my dorm and was lounging on my bed reading a book. Paying no attention to me. At. All. I remember the conversation I had with pansy earlier:

EARLIER:

“Well if he isn’t paying attention to you, just make him”

“And how do you suppose I do that, pansy” I said while shimmying into a sleek, black dress which had a cut up the side to my thigh.

“Make him compliment you, or make him jealous, tell him you’re going out with……Cedric or something, I dunno” she stepped into my changing room “that dress would make me stop ignoring you, damn girl” I laugh at her.

“Thank you but I can’t do that to enzo I’d feel so bad” taking Pansy’s hand she spun me around with a small laugh

“Look, y/n you’re hot. Use that to your advantage” she stands behind me in the mirror fixing my hair and zips up the back of my dress

“What do you mean, pans?”

“Your innocence kills me. Slowly. And painfully. I mean, you could always force his attention away, that’s what I’d do to blaise”

“I really don’t need to hear about yours and blaise’s sexual…..activities” I say scrunching my nose up in fake disgust which she laughed off

“All im saying is mess around with him. Tease him, suck him off, edge him till he’s begging, literally whatever you want but don’t just wait for him to notice how damn good you look in that dress….or out of it”

BACK TO NOW:

Maybe she’s right. I look at the dress hung over the back of my chair, quickly taking it in my arms I walk into the bathroom slipping it on.

LORENZO’S POV:

Damn, I hate it when she’s right, i mean she basically always is right but still. Ugh, this book is good, I mean I can’t believe Jo just like denied Laurie and didn’t marry him and then he married Amy instead like wow….plot…fucking…..twist. I look up from my book to tell y/n that the book is bad because she can’t know I like it and she’s gone, odd.

YOUR POV:

I walk out the bathroom to stand infront of my bedroom mirror once again and see Lorenzo now lying on his back holding the book up. I sigh slightly thinking I’m going to have to resort to one of Pansy’s plans

“I look so ugly, why did I buy this dress” I huff at myself lacing my voice with some lever of sadness

“What?! Who told you that? Did someone say that to you?” His voice came out panicked and full of concern, that I felt bad for doing this.

“No one did, I just look bad” he scrambled off the bed and stood behind me, his hands on my hips rubbing small circles with his thumbs. I try and stress the smirk that’s forcing its way onto my face before he could catch on.

“Your gorgeous y/n, breathtaking” his hand runs up my body to my neck tilting my head up. Sparks fly up and down my spine when he moves my hair away from my neck. I loose track of what he’s saying as my body relaxes against his and his warm breath tickles my neck. “What are you smirking about huh?” He places a kiss to my neck. “Did you just want some attention pretty girl?” He turns me to face him while I mumble a “maybe” while heat rushes up my neck to my face. He wraps a hand around my neck making me look up at him

“You jealous of a book sweetheart? Just want me to yourself, baby?” I hum a yes, closing my eyes slightly feeling the vibrations between my neck and his hand. “How bout I show you how pretty you are? I’ll give you all my attention, yeah?” he took his hand from my neck grabbing the back of my thighs, lifting me up wrapping my legs round his waist. He kneads the skin under my hiked up dress walking me over to me bed and laying me down, hovering over me.

“My pretty girl”

[honeycombclaire]

Making a playlist centered on Dick Grayson. Here are some of my thoughts through the process:

(here’s the link if you’d like to listen)

I Want You To Want Me by Cheap Trick but instead of a fun little song about wanting to date someone, it’s Dick desperately needing everyone to want him and need him because all he knows is using his body for entertainment and his entire self has formed around approval and demand for him.

Afraid by The Neighbourhood is Dick throughout the process of Jason and Tim (respectively) becoming Robin, and when he’s older hanging off a skyscraper in Blüdhaven as he looks out at Gotham across the bay and knows that Gotham will never not have a Robin (Dick will be replaced time and time again).

exile by Taylor Swift is Dick when Bruce fired him from being Robin

Sharp Dressed Man by ZZ Top is 100% Dick falling into the role of pretty firstborn of Bruce Wayne at a Wayne Gala. Dick walks in with a perfectly cut suit while adjusting his cuffs and not one eye leaves him the entire night.

I can’t explain it. Be by Hozier. Dick is talking. I’ve got nothing else.

god save me, don’t let me down by YUNGBLUD is Dick bearing the weight of coming back after Spyral and trying to find his sense of identity and place in the world again.

Higher by The Vamps is Dick coming to Blüdhaven after being fired as Robin and grappling with the idea of losing yet another father figure in his life, the understanding that he’s truly alone for the first time in his life.

Alive by The Scarlet Opera is Dick flying. Learning how to fly as a Flying Grayson, learning how to find his footing on the ground in Gotham, learning to fly again as Robin, learning to fly as Nightwing, and everything in between.

Inertia by AJR (Acoustic, for extra feels) is Dick immediately after his parents die, stuck on the ground for the first time in his life. Dick over the years: becoming Robin, getting fired, moving, becoming Nightwing, becoming a leader, a spy, losing his father and becoming a father figure himself, losing his brothers, losing his son when his father returns, and righting his footing in the end, slotting himself back into place.

He struts to Lady Marmalade while on patrol, primarily when he’s with his family because he knows it annoys them.

[annaphoenix1994]

No Russian - 1

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

»»-------¤-------««

"Are you sure, love? I don't want to leave you here on your own-" 

"I'm sure, babe. You need time with your friends," She assured him after they had arrived back to their hotel room, Simon unbuckling the straps to her heels, impressed that she wore them the entire night. "I'll be fine. I'll make some popcorn and watch a movie until I fall asleep." 

"What if you need me? What if you fall or-"

She cut him off by reaching up to cup his cheek, knowing he was unsure about meeting Soap, Gaz, and Price at the pub for a last get-together before going their separate ways again. "I'll be fine, Simon. I won't fall or put myself into danger the entire three hours you'll be gone." She teased. 

"Are you sure?"

"Babe, I'm not a delicate wilting flower. I'll be fine. I'll be asleep by the time you get back. Unless you give me a reason to coincidentally decide to meet you at the pub if you have a lady friend waiting on you." She arched her brow playfully.

"You know that's not true, love," He huffed, hating how the first thought that came to her mind was that he was lying to meet with another woman. "They invited me for some drinks before we fly home tomorrow."

"I know, Simon. Alice told me before we left the ball," She giggled. "Have a good time with your friends. You need it." 

"I don't know about needing it, but I do enjoy spending time with them." He admitted. 

She hummed, "And to think you always had a cold heart." 

"It's cold, but I do have one," He chuckled, watching her twirl her hair into a loose bun after changing out of her dress, finding himself approaching her from behind, pressing a kiss behind her ear before she rested her head on his shoulder before turning around to face him, her arms around his neck while his hands made their way to her waist. "You always make it so hard to say goodbye to you." 

"I don't mean to," She giggled, placing a tender kiss to his chin - a small gesture and act of love that he cherished within his being. "You won't be too far away and I won't be going anywhere." 

"I hope not," He shook his head, placing a kiss to her forehead while he reached for his jacket. "I love you." 

"I love you too." 

"I'll call you when I'm on my way back." 

"I might be asleep, but I'll keep my ears open."

"I won't be out long." 

"Stay out as long as you need, Simon."

He flashed a weak smile, truly not wanting to leave her behind, feeling selfish for accepting the invitation of a final get-together without her, but he tried to understand as he'd want the same for her - to spend time with her friends without feeling like he was suffocating her with his presence. He knew he could be suffocating and didn't know how Kiera was so embracive of his behavior. 

Even though she enjoyed how "needy" he was. 

"I'll see you soon." 

"I'll be here." She smiled curtly at him.

»»-------¤-------««

Simon walked into the pub, seeing only a few couples before seeing his fellow comrades gathered at the bar, taking a seat next to Soap before ordering a well-desired glass of bourbon, savoring the burning sensation in his chest as it was well missed. Nearly a craving on most days. 

"All we need is Alejandro and Rudy." Soap chuckled, taking another sip of his drink, reminiscing about their first and last time together as a group at a local bar outside of Las Almas. 

"I didn't take the pleasure in knowing him, but I do know that he is fun at a bar." Price admitted, lighting his cigar and taking a long drag.

"That he is." Soap chuckled. 

"Was this before or after you went home with that mysterious lady of the night?" Simon poked at him before taking another drink. 

"Enough about the backdoor babe," Soap scoffed, rolling his eyes. The men chuckled amongst themselves. "You can't let it go." 

"Should've never come back gloating about it, mate." 

"What're we talking about?" Gaz furrowed his brows. 

"Nothing." 

"A dirty secret he shouldn't have asked us advice about." Simon commented. 

"Keeping secrets, Sergeant?" Price rose a brow. 

"Fucking Christ," Soap grumbled, ignoring the snicker both Simon and Gaz let loose through their lips. "See what you got him started about?" 

"I didn't start him on anything. Poor bloke just heard something he wanted to ask you about." Simon shrugged. 

"Don't you have a pregnant fiancé to tend to?" 

"I like the sound of that," He huffed, a smirk curling onto his lips. "Although she insisted on me going out tonight-"

"Sounds like you can't tend to her good enough, then." Soap snickered, attempting to prod at him for his poking jokes about his time with the woman he met at the bar in Mexico. 

Simon scoffed, "I lack no effort in pleasing her, I can assure you. However, I at least know she's a woman." He retorted, sending Soap's face falling back to a frown at his recoil. 

"Always poking the bear at each other, huh boys?" A familiar female voice sounded, a bottle of imported beer in her hand. 

Fucking hell, Simon grumbled to himself, knowing that the sight of Laswell entering the bar wasn't for a simple get-together. 

Something was about to happen.

And whatever it was, he knew Kiera didn't need to be a part of it.

"Laswell? You were the last person I would've thought to make a surprise visit." Gaz chuckled at her, watching her sit next to Price. 

"C.I.A shit, remember?" She arched her brow. 

He chuckled, tracing the rim of his glass of bourbon, "That's right."

"More like... creative writing."

"I'll never tell," Price chuckled. "Have you met up with Kiera since you've been here?" 

"No, I haven't," Laswell sighed. "Because she'll know I'm not here for a friendly face."

Simon's chest rose and fell in anxiety. 

He knew he wasn't going home anytime soon. 

And he didn't know how he was going to tell Kiera - or how he could tell Price that he wasn't willing to leave Kiera in a sensitive and vulnerable state of her pregnancy.

"What do you mean?"

Laswell sighed as she took a sip of her beer, licking her lips before she rested her elbows on the bar, "I wasn't willing to put thoughts into her head."

"You're making me nervous, Kate." Price sighed. 

"AQ, Iran, cartels..." Laswell began listing off. 

"Russians." Price added. 

"She was there for it all. Frankly, one of the best Case Officers to ever be in my command. I'd be lying if I said I could do it all on my own. Because now, we've got bigger fish..."

Price looked at her with a concerned gaze. 

"I did some digging on the Russians."

"Well, that's a dirty job."

"Ultra-nationalists ambushed that convoy Graves led, John."

"Kate, this is over." Price sighed, desperate to make an attempt to keep he and his team from deploying on another long-term project, knowing Kate's words were searing into Simon's mind, knowing that the hardest battle would be within his own mind - fighting to keep his focus on not just his work, but Kiera. 

"No, it's not. They're working with someone new. There's talk about nuclear warfare between Russia and the United States after we sent tanks to Ukraine to aid with the war. With not only this threat, there's an ultra-nationalist behind the lines pulling the strings."

"Who?"

Kate sighed, removing a polaroid photo from her jacket pocket, setting it face-down on the bar before sliding it over to him, looking away from him as he looked at the photo. "We don't know his name."

"Kate, he's-he's not new." 

He slid the photo next to him, Gaz looking at it next, nodding his head before sliding it to Soap, he too taking a quick glance of a new enemy before sliding it towards Simon, he being the only one to look at the photo for a moment, his gaze dark and full of the desire of revenge. Fucking hell. 

"Who is he?" 

"Makarov."

[serioussideblog]

Keep your pets safe! Some other potential hazards not listed here but that are definitely things you need to be aware of this time of year:

- Many holiday foods, such as stölen, fruit cake, some cookies, some candy, some Cole slaw and other salad, etc. has grapes or raisins in it. These can and will poison your dog or cat if they eat them. Keep your pets away from them.

- Candy and other sweets with xylitol are also highly toxic to non-humans. There are many peanut butters being made with xylitol now, too. Read ingredients, and if you’re not sure, keep it well away from your pets.

- If your pet sneaks out of the house this time of year, or you’re walking them, they do risk things such as frostbite, hypothermia, and slipping on ice. You should still walk dogs if possible, but watch doors carefully, and never, ever intentionally leave an animal out in the cold alone for prolonged periods of time. Sure, some breeds of dog are better suited to cold weather, but they should still be supervised to ensure their safety as they frolic in the snow.

- Traffic is a hazard for animals any time of year, but this time of year, there’s more of it, and visibility is often limited due to weather. Keep your dog on a leash outside, avoid roads where possible, and use a reflective harness in an easy-to-see color. Be especially mindful of smaller dogs and dogs with white or light-colored fur. And again, no animal should be allowed outside without supervision. And as for drivers, be extra cautious this time of year. Watch for animals. Don’t speed, don’t drink and drive, don’t drive high, don’t text and drive, and pay attention to the weather before you head out.

- If you have fish and young relatives coming over, keep all fish supplies out of reach from the little ones. Young children don’t usually understand that fish don’t eat as much as we do. They usually don’t understand anything else about fish, either.

- Some people like to celebrate with fireworks this time of year. Fireworks can be hazardous to pets in many ways. The noise can scare them, leading them to try to run away. The heat can burn them, flying pieces can cause injuries. Try to keep your pets away from fireworks. Give them a calm, safe space and have someone watch them.

Source + larger version

[mashmouths]

post limit was created to silence women