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moonchild9350 · 5 months ago

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You Can Have Your Cake and Eat It Too

summary: your friends tell you about a brothel that resides in your city, a place to live out your deepest desires.

pairing: sex worker Jeongin x fab!reader

genre: smut-18+ MDNI

word count: 3.0k

warnings: takes place in a brothel so sex work, munch innie lol, overstimulation, edging, pussy job, protected (do) and unprotected sex (don't), removal of condom, creampie, squirting, soft dom reader, soft? sub innie, cum tasting, dirty talk, messy sex lol, brief mention of blood, vocal innie hehe

notes: Innie just looks so innocent in these pics idk just had to write something haha. i hope you like it! (lightly edited)

if you enjoyed, please reblog, comment, and like ♡

please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permissions. ©moonchild9350 (2025)

General Masterlist

It was the weekend, another exhausting week over and done with. You knew you wanted to unwind this weekend and after talking with your friend, you knew just the activity that would help you relax.

Your friend told you about a brothel in town, filled with men who are waiting to fulfill your every desire, no matter what it is. You were curious about the experience, never having been to one, so you decided to sign up right away.

You loved picking out your prey for the night, explaining what you wanted and how. As the time got closer to your reservation, you decided to get ready, as you bought the perfect outfit.

You slipped on your lingerie, the red a striking color on your skin tone, followed by your mini dress. It hung perfectly on your thighs, your curves accentuated and your breasts perched beautifully showing just enough cleavage. You slipped on your heels and eyed yourself in the mirror, more than satisfied with your look. Grabbing your bag, you made your way to the door, as your ride had just pulled up to your house.

The brothel offered its own transportation, allowing you to arrive in style, and who were you to deny the opportunity to be chauffeured. A sleek, black car awaited you, the driver waiting by the backdoor ready to escort you into the vehicle. You accepted his help and slid in. He closed the door and got back into the drivers seat, putting the car in drive and pulling away from your home.

The ride was short, as the brothel was just downtown, nestled in between two office buildings. To the ordinary passerby, they’d never guess what was going on between the walls of what seemed like another regular office building. You walked over to the receptionist, giving her your name.

Only a second more and her face lit up as she located your reservation.

“You are booked with Jeongin, correct?” She asked, her eyes scanning the computer screen before looking at you for confirmation.

“That’s correct,” you said, giving her a smile.

She nodded her head once and then went back to eyeing the computer screen, her nails click clacking occasionally on the keyboard as she finished checking you in.

After a few moments more she looked up and said, “you’re all set. Jeongin is waiting for you in room 143. I hope you have a great time and if you need anything please don’t hesitate to let us know.”

You followed where she gestured, your heels clicking on the hardwood floor as you made your way down a long hallway. There were doors on either side of the hall, a placard with the room number placed perfectly in the middle. Other than the soft music that played overhead, it was silent.

Arriving at your destination, you took a deep breath before knocking on the door three times. You listened carefully for a response, grasping the door knob and turning when you heard a faint “come in.”

You stepped into the room, your eyes instantly roaming over your surroundings. It was stylish but cozy and not too big. There was a window at the far end of the wall, with sheer curtains pulled across, blocking the outside world from looking in. A couch sat in the corner, fluffy pillows littering every section. Your eyes continued to roam, taking in a bathroom to your right, the lights off except for a mini nightlight in the wall. Finally, your eyes landed on the queen sized bed in the center of the room, outfitted with a white downy comforter, and piles of pillows.

A man got up from the bed, his eyes directed right at you.

“Y/n?” He asked, wanting to confirm the right person was in the room.

“That’s me,” you replied, “and you’re Jeongin?”

He nodded and smiled, little dimples popping up with the gesture. Jeongin was cute, his face chiseled but with a hint of babyish features. His hair was perfectly styled, the strands framing his face haphazardly. He was dressed in all white, his shirt unbuttoned half way to reveal a portion of his chest, the outline of his pecs poking through the gap.

Jeongin was outfitted just how you wanted him, innocent appearing and ready for you to ruin.

“I’m ready for you,” Jeongin replied as he sat on the bed and looked at you in a way that made your pussy clench.

You smirked at his eagerness and sauntered over to him, your heels click clacking on the tile floor.

“Yeah baby?” You cooed as you kneeled on the bed to get closer to him.

He merely nodded his head, his big brown eyes locked on yours. You maneuvered yourself so you were lying on your back, your dress riding up your thighs and teasing him for what was underneath. You spread your legs, displaying your panties that now was sporting a small wet patch to Jeongin.

He eagerly scrambled towards you, spreading your legs as he got comfortable in between them. You sighed as he began to press soft kisses up your thighs, edging closer and closer to your core. Right when he got to the place you needed him most, he switched legs, kissing the flesh there as he stroked your other thigh.

Once he was satisfied, he dragged his lips on your skin until he reached your pelvis, his nose brushing the fabric of your panties. He breathed in your scent, his pupils dilating and cock twitching at your scent. Jeongin pressed his plush lips against your pussy again and again before spitting on the fabric and pressing his tongue flat against your covered entrance before licking up towards your clit.

You let out a low moan as he repeated the motion again and again, teasing you until you were writhing under his grasp.

“Take em off baby,” you cooed.

Jeongin let out a whine before disconnecting his mouth from your pussy. He reached up to grasp the waistband of your panties and dragged them down your legs before tossing them away. He immediately attached himself back to your pussy, his tongue darting out to play with your clit.

You laid there completely relaxed as Jeongin ate you out, as he lazily played with your clit, edging you to the point of tears. His mouth felt so good, your slick continually leaking out of your entrance and onto his face.

As he sucked your clit into his mouth, he shoved two fingers within your warmth and instantly curled them upwards, stimulating your sweet spot and causing you to see stars. You gripped his hair and tugged, moaning at the vibrations his mouth was giving you as he groaned.

His fingers were steadily moving in and out of your pussy, the pressure against your sweet spot causing pleasure to spread throughout your core as his tongue batted at your clit. You were close so you began to thrust your hips in tune with how he was fingering you.

“Ahh gonna come baby!” You squealed as he picked up the pace.

You felt the warmth increase and the coil tighten within your belly, your orgasm threatening to hit at any moment. You took a breath and Jeongin bit at your clit and you let go with a loud moan as he continued to slide his fingers in and out of you while sucking gently at your clit.

You arched your back as he continued to suck, your legs attempting to close at the overstimulation, but finding it difficult to do so as Jeongin held your legs open. He pressed himself further to your pussy, licking up your slick, making sure not to waste a single drop.

“Mmm too much,” you whined as you tugged on his hair attempting to lift his head up, but it was no use as he buried his face even more so he could continue to give attention to your clit.

Without warning, your orgasm hit you once more, lighter this time around but still powerful nonetheless. You whimpered as you let the feeling take over, staring up at the ceiling as stars danced across your vision.

Finally, Jeongin leaned back as he licked his lips, his face shining with your slick. He grinned as he took in your pussy, his eyes landing on your folds soaked with his spit and your cum, to your puffy, swollen clit that was peaking out so perfectly.

You slowly sat up, your hair a mess, and the straps of your dress hanging haphazardly on your shoulders and smirked at Jeongin.

“Lay down for me,” you said shifting so Jeongin could take your spot.

Once he was comfortable, you slid your dress off and crawled towards your lover for the night. Your hands slid up his legs, running gently over the fabric of his pants before reaching his bulge. You gripped him through his pants, smirking as he let out a whine at the pressure you were applying.

“Take it out please, please,” Jeongin whimpered as he pouted at you.

“Should I take out your cock? Do you deserve it though?” You teased back.

Jeongin quickly shook his head, strands of hair falling in his face. “Please?” He asked once more.

You were satisfied with his plea, so you gripped his waistband and dragged his pants down his legs watching as his cock sprung from its confines and nestled against his belly, nice and hard.

Tossing his pants elsewhere, you straddled his legs and nestled your pussy over his length. You began to rock your hips, his cock slotting perfectly between your folds, the tip catching at your clit with each thrust.

The feel of your pussy dragging against his cock was too much, the pleasure he was receiving causing him to let out a groan that rumbled deep within his chest. Jeongin’s eyes went straight to your pussy and his hands on your hips as he helped guide you over his length.

You were wet, your slick coated his cock and aiding in the glide as you fucked yourself over his length. His cock felt good, the vein that ran along his length hitting the right spots as you thrusted your hips.

Jeognin let out a mewl as he bit his lips his eyes snapping to yours. “Gonna come, shit…don’t stop. Please, please, please,” he mumbled, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“Yeah? Gonna come? So good for me,” you said breathlessly, as your orgasm was steadily building.

You looked down briefly at where your pussy was gliding effortlessly against his cock and what you saw nearly made you come right there. It was messy, your cream coating his length and the head of his cock was an angry red, drops of precum leaking from the slit. You looked back up at Jeongin, taking in his fucked out state, as his bit his lips so hard, he drew blood, the red droplets smeared across his bottom lip.

With a yelp, you watched as he let go, his cum spurting out onto his belly and your pussy, the white substance adding to the mess that was already present. His release triggered yours, your high hitting you for the third time that night. You continued to thrust against his length, riding out your high as the pleasure slowly simmered away.

You slowed down until you came to a stop as you tried to catch your breath. Jeongin was in no better state, his body glistening with sweat, his pupils dilated and full of lust. You barely registered that he was getting up until you were flat on your back. You stared up at the man above you with wide eyes, surprised at his bust of confidence.

He was still hard and you could tell it was bothering Jeongin as he was desperate to be inside you. You watched as he rolled a condom down his length as it was the rules of the brothel before he brought the head to your entrance and pushed in.

You let out a moan at the stretch, trying to even out your breathing as he continued to sheath himself inside you. Once he bottomed out, he didn’t give you a chance to adjust but instead began to draw his cock in and out of your pussy at a rapid pace.

You were turned on even more as he whined and whimpered, his voice high pitched and strained as he fucked you with force. His eyes trained on your breasts, watching as they bounced up and down with each thrust. He groaned as his hands reached out and gripped them, messaging the flesh and pinching your nipples. You clenched around him as he flicked at the nubs, the sensation of pleasure traveling down to your core.

“Fuck! This pussy oh my god!” Jeongin moaned as his hips slammed into yours.

“Fuck me harder baby,” you moaned as he adjusted himself so he could drive himself deeper within you, so much so you could feel his cock kiss your cervix.

“I’m. Trying.” He said as he punctuated each word with a thrust.

He brought your legs up over his shoulders and leaned down over you. You could feel yourself get even more wet, the evidence present with the sound your pussy made with each drag of his cock within your walls. You were close, the feeling spreading within your belly. You felt your breath increase with each thrust of his hips, as a different sensation started to build. You have only felt this way a few times, most men not able to get you there, but apparently this would be one of those times.

You relaxed further into the pillow as you looked Jeongin in the eyes. His pace increased ever so slightly and you could tell he was close, his groans increasing as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Na uh baby, don’t you dare come until I do,” you warned, smirking as his eyes snapped open and stared down at you.

“But, I don’t think I can hold it,” he whined as a pained moan left his lips.

“Too bad, make me come and then you can okay?”

Jeongin took a breath and nodded his head in resignation. You smiled up at him and gripped his arms as he fucked you. He angled himself differently one last time, this time his cock dragging against your sweet spot, causing you to mewl out at the sensation.

You felt your orgasm build more steadily, the feeling building until it was right there, slowly spilling, your pussy fluttering around his cock. Jeongin grinned before pressing down on your lower belly, the added pressure causing you to squirt, your fluids threatening to push his cock out of your pussy. However, he just shoved his length harder within you, reveling in your pleasure as you thrashed around beneath him.

Jeongin had made you come and he couldn’t hold off any longer. He withdrew his length causing you to whimper at the sudden loss, before he gripped the condom and pulled it off of his cock. It was against the rules, but rules be damned. He wanted to feel you fully as he filled you up to the brim with his cum.

You gasped as he sheathed himself back within you and fucked you at an inhuman pace, the sound of skin slapping skin filling up the room. You let out whimpers, the overstimulation now to much, however, you just laid there and took his cock, as you slowly found yourself slipping away and succumbing to the pleasure.

“Shh,” Jeongin cooed as he pushed your hair from your sweaty face. “This will be between you and me yeah?”

You nodded in consent, understanding that this would be your little secret. At your admission, Jeongin snapped his hips into yours one last time before stilling, his orgasm hitting him hard as he came deep inside you.

He took a few moments to catch his breath before withdrawing his cock, his cum leaking out of your entrance and down your ass. Jeongin quickly dragged a finger through the fluids before bringing it to his lips, moaning as he tasted the mixture of your arousals.

You laid there exhausted and spent, your body sore and aching from the abuse it had just received. You both were silent as you came back to reality, the only sound was the loud, rapid beating of your heart in your ears.

Finally, you sat up and faced Jeongin who was sitting next to you.

“That was amazing,” you said, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from his eyes.

“Yeah? I’m glad,” he said as he grinned, his cheeks turning a ruddy color at the praise.

“Aww you’re so cute!” You teased as you tried to pinch his cheeks just for him to chuckle and try to evade your advances.

After a while, you both found yourselves lying side by side, your bodies sticky from the mixture of your cum and his and dried sweat. Your mind drifted off to how his mouth felt on your pussy and how he took care of your body like no one else before. You may have to visit him more often. But, you had one night with him now and you weren’t going to waste it.

Getting up, you straddled his body and scooted up to his head.

“Ready for dessert?” You asked as you began to lower your pussy over his mouth.

Jeongin just licked his lips and gripped your hips bringing your core to his tongue.

“Oh!” You squealed as he dug in.

As they say dessert is sometimes the best part of the meal and Jeongin would definitely have to agree.

taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @velvetmoonlght @possum-playground @katsukis1wife @my-neurodivergent-world @hanniebaeee @hwanghyunjinismybae @channiesrightasscheek

divider by @cafekitsune

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463 notes · View notes

scarletwinterxx · 8 months ago

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god bless your dad's genetics - choi seungcheol imagine

do you ever think daddy when you see Cheol or are you normal... hahahaha no but seriously this man this man he is THE MAN. my playlist of all Seungcheol coded songs are getting longer and longer🤣 and you already know Juno by Sabrina Carpenter is there THAT IS SO HIS SONG

anywayssss hope you like it!

if anyone want to be mutuals on X, i'm using the same un there😊

for my other svt fics, check them here

if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

"See you next dinner! Hopefully you got the baby carrier next time!"

"Okay, auntie bye!"

Your smile fades the moment the front door closes, Seungcheol chuckling at your expression. You feel him give your hand a squeeze, leading you down the road to where he parked his car

"Remind me again why I let you talk me into this" you grumble as you walk beside him

"Because they're family, it was nice to see your mom" he tells you, trying to simmer your irritation. He knows it's not meant for him but for the nosy relatives you try so hard to avoid.

It took a while before you introduced him to your extended family for this exact reason, every family reunion they would pester you about finding a boyfriend or a husband and you just always reply with a smile. When you did finally get a boyfriend you didn't even think about taking him to your chaotic family dinners.

But Seungcheol, god bless his heart, just wanted to be the best boyfriend so when your mom asked if he wanted to come of course he couldn't say no.

He already knew your mom so when you got to her place, she welcomes the two of you then goes around dragging Seungcheol by the arm to introduce him to the rest of the family.

It's cute to see your mom boasting your boyfriend, you would too.

The entire night went on like the usual then when it was time to say goodbye of course some of your aunties will make sure to say something.

You're glad it's over though. It really drained all your energy, thankful you now have someone with you. The two of you get in the car, he waits before you're buckled in before he starts driving back to the city.

"It was, but god the rest of them are nosy" you say

He laughs at your words, nodding his head "Your mom showed me all the baby pictures" he tells you

"Is that where you disappeared to? Oh god please tell me she didn't show everything"

"She showed me everything" he beams, if not for his big smile you would've been more annoyed but seeing Seungcheol happy makes you happy. If it's at the expense of your embarrassing baby pics then so be it.

"You were so cute, what are you worrying for" he asks, his hand finding your thigh like it always does whenever you're sitting on his passenger seat

"I'm very well aware I was a cute baby, you know when I see those pics I can't help but wish my daughter would look just like me"

Seungcheol looks over at you quickly, seeing you looking out the window. He can't help but smile at that, his mind already imagining a little in his arms with your nose and eyes and cheeks.

"Me too" he mumbles "One of you is cute but two though..." he trails off

That makes you look over at him, the two of you have talked about the future but not much about the details. You don't see a future without him and so does he.

He's very sure the two of you would end up on the aisle saying vows to each other, no matter how far that is down the road.

"You want kids?"

"Yea, in the future when we're ready. How ever many you want" he answers so casually but in reality his heart is hammering against his chest. He's a tough guy, he likes to think. But when it comes to you, even the little things you do can get him down on his knees.

"Really?" he can hear the smile on your voice, he gives your thigh a squeeze before taking your hand to give the back of it a kiss

"Really really, a little girl who looks just like you? I would love that more than anything. Have you seen you, babe? I bet you'll look good pregnant" he smirks, earning a light hit on his arm from you

You blush at his words, your mind and heart racing at the thought of having his babies.

"Fuck around and you'll find out" you say

"Oh don't worry, I'm planning to"

You laugh outloud but you just know there's truth to his words. Having Seungcheol as your lover will never leave you unsatisfied in all ways. He knows just how to treat your right.

"But how about you, do you think I'll be a good dad?" he asks, giving you a quick look

"What are you talking about? You'll be on fight mode everyday if we have a daughter and I'll love you even more for it. I just know she'll be in good hands" you say

"You're so daddy material" you jokingly add

"Okay back up, let's not go there yet. I'm driving" he chuckles

He was quiet for a few moments, thinking about a few things he wanted to ask "Did you have a hard time? going back between your mom and dad?"

"No, they were very good parents. I was always the first priority and I knew that. You know my dad told me it's easy to find a husband but it's hard to find a father for your kids. Him and my mom might not have been a good couple but they are great parents"

"I can see that" he says with a quiet voice. He knew about your parent's separation when you were a kid. How you spent your holidays in two households, how you celebrate everything twice.

'It's double the love' you once told him.

He can see that even though you were raised in an unconventional household, it didn't stop you from having a positive outlook on love and having a family of your own. And for that, he's thankful.

When the two of you arrive at his place where you now mostly stay, he gets out first and opens the door for you. The two of you walk hand in hand towards his front door but he stops you midway

"I'm glad to hear you're happy. I promise that even if it might not be like that everyday, I'll never walk away when it isn't"

You look up at him, committing this moment to your memory "Me too"

"And I'll work even harder to be a good father"

Walking towards him, you throw your arms around his neck so now you're face to face

"I know you will be"

"I love you" he tells you because there's so much to say but that's all he can think of right now. Looking right into your eyes then down your lips then to your eyes again, he swears he's falling in love all over again. He swears he can hear his heart beating because fuck he's so so so in love with you.

It's taking every bit of his self control not to kneel down on one knee and ask for your hand in marriage right now.

You lean towards him, everything in his mind goes quiet and all he heard before you kiss him were the words "I love you, too"

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thewinter-eden · 5 months ago

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Don't Look At Me Like That

images are mine (except middle HH pic that I got from pinterest). please do not use without permission. ATE pcs are my inspo for this series.

part 4 of the skz crack!horror series (this concludes the Hyung Line).

pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x fem!reader rating: mature, dark themes summary: hitman!Hyunjin’s next target is you, the child of a foreign diplomat. But when he shows up to do the job and finds you ambivalent to the threat upon your life, he can’t help but ask what the hell is wrong with you.

warnings: Terminal illness, smoking, asshole family, political family, angst, unrealistic trust fund, drugs, implications of overdose, implications of involuntary overdose, assault, discussion of surgery, depictions of cysts/tumors, USD instead of Korean Won, Gossip Girl reference, some language, kidnapping.

word count: 6k

Comment a request to be tagged.

series info PART 2 INFO

The first igniting drags of your cigarette feel like a second glass of wine. For a second, you’re lighter than air and the world tips on its axis.

Your family hates your penchant for cigarettes. They call you disgusting; unhygienic; stupid.

Although, In a way, your literal toxic trait has actually strengthened your personal hygiene—a rigorous unskippable skincare routine, to fight the weathering of your face, expensive and regular dental care to prevent the yellowing of teeth, your hands under a constant layer of hand sanitizer and scented perfume to combat the clinging stench of smoke, every surface of your bedroom cleaned daily and your laundry crisply pressed and regularly washed—just because you’re a shameless human chimney doesn’t mean you intend to wear the grime of cigarette smoke as an accessory.

Not that any of that matters anymore.

You take another drag and feel your body settle into the familiar rhythm. In front of you, on the other side of your glass cage (read: bedroom window) the city stretches out in front of you, lights poking holes in the blanket of darkness that covers it.

The clock reads 6 PM.

Lifting one hand, tapping a black-polished nail against the glass, watching your arm tremble, you give a resigned sigh and blow a puff of smoke through the opening. The plume rises and disperses into the atmosphere, vanishing before your eyes.

You finish your cigarette and crush the filter into your ash tray, yanking the curtains closed. The next few minutes are muscle memory—shrugging out of your robe, spritzing it with vodka to remove the smoke smell, exfoliating your hands and arms with a sugar scrub, brushing and whitening your teeth, covering yourself head to toe in moisturizer.

All for the sake of appearances.

When you close yourself into the bathroom to change half an hour later, all you smell is coffee from the sugar scrub and the sickly sweet aroma of your flowery lotion.

“You’re coming, right?” Your best friend Lisa’s voice booms through the phone, the sound of pounding music and raucous laughter filling the background.

You’re already dressed, brushing excess highlighter and powder off your face as you stand before your mirror. “Of course I’m coming, I promised you I would. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” You take a second to check your watch.

Lisa had made plans with you to meet at the party at 8, but she always arrives early enough to be four or five drinks ahead by the time you show up. This inevitably leads to her finding someone to spend an hour in the closest lockable room with and you calling your dad’s driver to take you home.

It’s not that you don’t ever want a hook up or a boyfriend or anything, it’s just that you’re the seventeen-year-old daughter of a politician and you have rules.

You can’t be out after 11, you can’t be seen with mile-deep cleavage or thigh-high hems, and you certainly can’t be drunk in public—especially as a minor. So you smooth the fabric of the just barely appropriate outfit you’ve chosen and check your reflection one last time.

It takes a second to convince yourself that the heaviness of your eyes isn’t because of your dark liner, that the dullness in your expression isn’t obvious.

“Well hurry on over. I’ve found someone you just have to meet.”

When you arrive, you’re wading through a house that’s teeming with high schoolers, the walls reverberating with pounding music. You find Lisa near the kitchen, one arm slung around the neck of one of her friends, the other hand clutching a plastic cup.

When her eyes land on you, she all but screeches your name over the clamor and reaches for you. The girl that she was just leaning on takes the opportunity to pull away and stretch her arms upward, trying to correct the awkward hunch that Lisa had put her in. She shoots you a grateful smile and disappears into the crowd, looking for her boyfriend.

Lisa’s in your face in the next second, her breath already reeking. She catches you in a tight, sloppy hug, the contents of her cup splashing your shoulder as she trips. “I’m so glad you’re here,” She says, and if her body language says drunk, her voice certainly doesn’t. Her lipstick is smeared and she’s staggering a little but her voice is crisp and sharp. “I was worried you’d change your mind again.”

She runs a hand up the back of your neck and playfully squeezes the knot of your hair that you’ve taken the time to elegantly pin.

It’s a ritual at this point.

You have the worst habits—smoking and drinking and slipping your curfew after everyone’s asleep—but you don’t go anywhere without a Princess Grace-like appearance. Because it doesn’t matter what you do as long as you’re not shitfaced on the front page the next morning. Even if you’ve snuck out at night to meet a boyfriend, when the cameras catch you on the streets you’re perfectly coiffed and sleekly styled.

Even now, you don’t look like you’re dressed for a high school party so much as a cocktail one, but Lisa tells you it makes you look more like Blair Waldorf than the homeschooler you’re always worried you emulate.

You push her hand out of your hair and check to make sure the pins haven’t come out. “Did you get me one of those?” You nod towards the cup in her hand and her eyes light up.

She nods towards the kitchen. “I got you, babe, come with me.”

You follow her, one hand reaching for her hip to steady her when she falls off one of her high heels, and then you’re in the kitchen and the noise of the party is muffled behind the heavy swinging door.

There’s one other person in the room with you, a tall, slender guy near the sink, shoulders hunched slightly as he gazes out the window. You’re still trailing after Lisa, but your eyes are taking in the long black hair that the guy has pulled back in a half pony, the slim-cut jacket with the sleeves pushed up past his elbows, the ripped jeans that cinch at his small waist and hang loosely around his legs.

When the two of you enter, his head turns, and you see the sharpness of his jaw, the definition of his features. There’s a flutter in your chest when his dark eyes land on you, and you whip your head away, crowding yourself behind Lisa.

She’s crushing something with a spoon, dumping it in the cup she’s just poured for you. Then she spins on one heel—surprisingly stable as she does—and passes it to you. “Here.”

You stare at the powder floating on top, and then back at her. “What did you put in this?”

“Nothing heavy.” She assures you, and knocks back a couple of the tablets herself. “Just something to take the edge off. Go ahead.”

It doesn’t matter anyway.

You drink, sucking in the yeasty beer with fervor, trying your hardest not to taste it as it goes down. Before you can finish the cup, Lisa catches your arm and turns you towards the man at the window. She introduces you without giving you a chance to question her, and tells you his name is Hyunjin—the guy she wanted you to meet.

He turns to you fully, eyes tracing you head to toe. There’s a gentle smile on his full lips as he notices the blush that rushes to your face. “Nice to meet you,” He says kindly. “I think I’ve seen you on TV.”

As the words reach your ears, you feel yourself growing more guarded despite the opposite effects of the alcohol. You’re used to being recognized, you’re used to being used for your dad’s fame and fortune. You’ve been burned before, and you have no intention of using this time to be manipulated again.

So you pull yourself up into a respectful posture and prepare to treat him like the occasional politically-conscious “fan” who asks you to take a picture. It doesn’t happen often, but you do tend to be popular amongst the poli-sci students at the local college.

“He’s a senior.” Lisa says, and gives you a nudge towards him. “He’s going to study art.”

Your eyes widen just slightly, and you look over Hyunjin again. At second glance, he does look the type. He’s effortlessly fashionable, quiet, reserved—at least on first impression. You extend your hand politely. “Pleasure to meet you. Are you a practitioner or a history buff?”

At your strictly professional tone, Hyunjin laughs under his breath and steps in to take your hand, enveloping it in the warmth of his own. “A little of both, I suppose. I sketch and paint. Lisa tells me you’re quite the watercolorist?”

You blush a little at the recognition of your most intimate hobby. “I play around with it a little, but it’s just for fun.” When you notice he’s still grasping your palm, you gently pull your hand back.

Lisa grips your arm again, and leans in so close that you can smell the cologne of the last boy she had her hands on. “Why don’t you two hang out a little? You’re both the same about parties, so I figured you’d get along. Cool? I’m going to go find Mingyu.”

There’s nothing you can say to make her stay, even if you could think of the words to try. So you just watch her disappear, the noise of the party warbling strangely as the door swings back and forth behind her.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Your eyes snap back to Hyunjin. “What?”

“When I said I’d seen you on TV.”

“Oh.” You pull another long sip from your drink and wince. “I’m not uncomfortable.”

“You’re standing like you’re at a press conference.” His eyes are alive with mirth as he watches you subtly try to shuffle your posture, brows lowering.

You’re coming back to yourself, your body acclimatizing to the atmosphere and whatever it was that Lisa put in your drink, your nerves no longer responding to every little glance that Hyunjin gives you. So you just shrug a shoulder and search the kitchen for your drink of choice. “I’m not uncomfortable as long as you’re not interested in some kind of fifteen minutes of fame bullshit.”

There it is.

You drain your beer as Hyunjin chuckles behind you and rinse your cup of the vile liquid, instead filling it with about four ounces of whiskey from a glass cabinet.

Hyunjin watches your movements with an eyebrow cocked. “I’m pretty sure that wasn’t meant to be a party favor.”

You nurse the drink slowly, settling into the comfort of the initial burn. “You gonna tell on me?”

He examines you again, shaking his head. “Not if you pour me one.”

You do, and then settle back against the counter. “Why come to a party if you’re going to hide in the kitchen?”

“I could ask you the same thing. Kinda surprised your dad lets you come to something like this.”

You used to be, too. Now you just huff. “As long as I’m not a scandalous headline tomorrow, he doesn’t care where I go or what I do. And I don’t usually hide in the kitchen.” It’s true, you don’t. There’s a handful of people out there that you like to talk to, a couple of them you even like to dance with if the occasion calls for it, but right now you’re not itching to leave where you’re at.

Hyunjin’s eyebrows raise as he looks at you, and he glances towards the door. “Then why—”

“Because I’m talking to you.” The confidence comes with the whiskey. The taste of it in the back of your throat distracts you from the blush you would ordinarily be fighting if you had said those words soberly to someone as attractive as Hyunjin, and right now you’re just enjoying the way his eyes crinkle and the sweet smile explodes across his face.

It’s cute.

He’s cute.

He shuffles his feet beneath him for a second, the air between you comfortable as he lets the effects of your statement fade. When the flustered state is mostly gone from his face, he glances up at you again, almost shyly. “You’re really pretty.” And then, feeling the weight of his own words as they drop off his tongue, his eyes widen and he hastens to soften their impact. “I like your earrings.”

But you just smile, watching the pink in his cheeks as he swallows a regrettably large gulp of whiskey.

“You’re really pretty, too.” You say, and his head snaps around to you.

For a long second, he just stares at you.

It’s not often that you find yourself talking to someone you want to open yourself up to, someone you like to see so flustered, but he’s so completely enchanting that you can’t take your eyes off him and you don’t want to stop saying things that make him look at you like that.

There are only so many things that you can enjoy in a life like yours, and you want to enjoy this.

Hyunjin pours you both another drink.

You’re grateful, especially because there’s a nagging part of you telling you to go outside and smoke a cigarette, so instead you bring your cup to your lips and sip. You move to reach for a bottle of lemon juice and it puts you right next to him, feeling the radiating warmth of his side as you mix your drink into a whiskey sour.

He doesn’t move away.

Out of the corner of your eyes you catch the faintest tremble of his hand, and a smirk curves your lips.

His eyes are on you as you pinch a sprinkle of sugar into the drink and then suck the granules off your thumb.

You turn slightly, so close that you don’t even have to reach to offer him your drink. “Want to try?”

His eyes flick from yours, to the drink, and back to your face. Hyunjin’s tongue appears to swipe across his lower lip, and then he nods, taking the cup from you.

You thoroughly enjoy the swirling in your stomach when his fingers brush yours.

He drinks from your cup, face scrunching slightly as he takes in the taste of it.

At the crumpling of his eyebrows, you frown, suddenly interrupted from the sense of control you feel. “You don’t like it?”

Hyunjin lowers the cup from his lips with a look of surprise, shaking his head. “I love it.” He holds it out to you. “Would you show me how you made it?”

It’s not a complicated drink, the whiskey sour.

You find yourself smirking again, and push the cup back towards him. “Keep it. I’ll make myself another one.” And you take his whiskey from him, turning to fix yourself another drink. When he just stands there, mentally processing how he somehow ended up trading drinks with you, you know you have him.

So when he edges closer, the heat of his body flooding into your skin, you’re not surprised. You keep your hands moving, your eyes on your drink, pretending you don’t notice the way he’s suddenly leaning into your side.

“You smell good,” He says lowly, and your heart does a flip.

But you play it off casually, focused on getting the lid off the lemon juice bottle. “You like it? I’m not so sure yet.”

It’s gotta be the oldest trick in the book, but he takes the opportunity like it’s a written permission slip and then his face is at the junction of your neck and shoulder, the whisper of his breath on your skin.

“I like it,” He murmurs.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him place his cup on the counter next to you, and then both of his hands settle on your arms. His touch is light, gentle, his thumbs smoothing questioning strokes against your sleeves, asking permission.

When you tilt your head to the side, exposing more of your neck to him, it’s a yes.

His lips are on your shoulder then, his fingers wrapping firmly around your arms.

Your entire body heats up.

He’s leaning into you, trailing his mouth from your shoulder to your neck, then slowly up your throat until your head is edging back, leaning against his shoulder, giving him access. Hyunjin’s hand slides up one arm, cupping the curve of your neck as he litters wet kisses across your jaw, and his other hand reaches around to cover both of yours where you realize that at some point you abandoned your efforts to make a drink.

He turns you around and you let him, throwing your head back as his mouth leaves a glistening trail across your collarbones and up your throat, moving up to suck gently at the point of your jaw beneath your ear. “I really do like your earrings.” He whispers, and you feel him flick the dangling gemstone with his tongue.

You’re trembling under his hands, and you wish you could say it’s from his highly effective ministrations, but you know it’s not. You peel your eyes open, all but panting as his arm circles your waist, pulling you closer. His forehead drops against yours, and you watch his tongue dart out to lick his lips.

“Can we move this somewhere more private?” He whispers, and then he’s sucking at your jaw on the other side, his fingers gripping the flesh at your hips.

You can’t help a laugh. “More private than the closed kitchen where it’s just us?”

“Please?” He whimpers against your throat.

You have absolutely no reason to protest. You’re nodding, aching, allowing him to push you towards the kitchen door, because this could be it. This could be your last. He’s every fantasy you’ve ever had, the absolute embodiment of beauty and seduction, and even one night with him could be everything.

What do you have to lose?

You stand to lose more by turning him down at this point.

So when his hands guide you through the living room, your ears barraged by music and laughter, your eyes assaulted by the flashes of too much skin and way too much pda, you just lean into his touch around your waist and let him find a room to duck into.

That’s how you find yourself pushed onto your back on someone’s bed, your heart in your ears as Hyunjin straddles you, his face returning to its spot against your throat, kissing his way towards your collar.

You feel his hands trail up your sides, his thumbs sweeping at the swell of your breasts, and for a second, you panic.

You’re not sure what he’ll think of you, how he’ll react to you when he finally gets his hands on you, but you can’t even worry about it for long because he’s nipping at your throat, his hands dragging your arms above your head.

Breathing in gasps, heart hammering as he laces the fingers of one hand through both of yours, trapping your hands above your head, you arch yourself into him as his free hand comes back towards his hip.

“You really are very pretty,” Hyunjin breathes into your ear, and then he presses a surprisingly chaste kiss to your cheek. “I just want you to know that.” Still holding your hands, he settles his weight back on your hips and pulls something out of his pocket.

You frown at him, chest heaving with breathlessness, confused. “What do you mean?”

Hyunjin brings his free hand back into view, now holding something cylindrical. Bringing the end of it to his mouth, prying off a plastic cap with his teeth, you can see the object as it catches the light.

A hypodermic needle, filled with something.

He spits the cap out of his mouth, eyebrows pinched in concentration. “Don’t move, angel, this doesn’t have to hurt.”

But you’re not moving, you’re just staring at the needle, trying desperately to make sense of the complete shift in atmosphere. You’re no longer trapped in a lovers’ embrace, you’re trapped. He has your hands immobilized, your lower body caught beneath his own, completely vulnerable.

He arches his body, reaching to slip the needle into a vein in your arm, and you understand.

You understand.

A deep sigh rushes out of your lungs.

You thought you’d have more time, but at this point, what does it matter?

Just before the needle pricks your flesh, Hyunjin seems to realize that you’re not fighting him at all. His eyes flick down to you, and he finds you blinking solemnly at his shoulder, not a single emotion on your face.

He pauses.

You close your eyes, suck in a deep breath, and let it out.

There’s no fear, no more surprise, no apprehension.

Just exhaustion; resignation.

It doesn’t matter. He leans in towards your arm again, angling the needle to prod your vein. You don’t even flinch as it pricks your skin, sliding into your flesh. His thumb hovers over the plunger, but doesn’t press.

He’s never had a mark just lay there.

They’ve never just…accepted it.

He glances at your face again. “Angel…do you know what’s happening right now?” You had only had a few drinks, and the flush of your face could be from the drugs or the drink or his lips on your throat, but surely you should be a little concerned by the sheer volume of what he’s about to push into your bloodstream.

“I know,” You respond flatly. “He shouldn’t have bothered, honestly, but it’s not like he knew.”

Hyunjin’s brain stutters with confusion. “He?”

“My father,” You say, and your eyes meet his. “He wasted his money, hiring you to kill me.”

Huh.

That’s not at all how he expected this to go.

“I guess he’s paying Lisa, too, since she started with the pills.” It stings, knowing your best friend would accept cash to kill you, but you also know that your father wouldn’t have offered an insignificant sum.

Whatever he’s paying Lisa will set her up for life.

“So they’ll find me, tonight or tomorrow, just another stupid teenager who tried to have too much fun, and the two of you are just the dumb high school friends to corroborate that it was just an accident. Right?”

You don’t cry, you don’t fight, you don’t yell.

He stares at you, shocked. “You don’t sound surprised.”

“You don’t seem apprehensive about killing a girl for money.”

Hyunjin’s jaw tightens. “It’s my job.”

“So you don’t go to this high school, then.” You mutter sarcastically.

He rolls his eyes. “I don’t go to any high school.” Then he catches your gaze again. “But it really is my job. It’s not like it’s personal.”

You take a second, absorbing the reality of what’s happening to you. It’s over.

It’s over.

This is it.

Forget three months.

It’s over now.

You weren’t prepared for this timeframe, but you are prepared. You have coped.

It’s not a new idea.

So you just nod. “Okay.”

It’s like he starts to lean to finish the job, and then pulls himself back. “Why did you say he shouldn’t have bothered?”

You laugh then, a loud, inelegant burst of laughter, almost directly into his chest.

He’s startled, eyes wide, leaning back on your hips to stare down at you. “Angel, I’m literally about to kill you, why the hell are you laughing? There’s no way you’re that drunk.”

And you’re not.

The sheer adrenaline of his lips on your skin burned through that alcohol what seems like hours ago, and now you’re just sinking into oblivion, still laughing.

Finally, tears of irony in your eyes, you wheeze up at him. “Go ahead and finish it, Hyunjin, or whoever you are. It doesn’t make a difference anyway. I’m alright. Finish it.” You nod upwards, towards the direction of your joined hands, and wish that the scent of his skin wasn’t still making your head swim.

It’s really not the time to be attracted to the assassin whom your father hired to murder you.

But he’s stuck, indecisive.

Because you’re laying underneath him, sniffling past a rush of humor—of all things—completely unconcerned and telling him that you’re alright with him killing you. That you’re alright with him subjecting you to a drug overdose that’s going to be painful and terrifying and the end of your life.

At this point, you seem to be more alright with it than he is.

And then you’re smiling at him. “Thanks for being nice about it.”

His heart lurches. “What the hell.” He yanks the needle out of your skin, releases your hands, and sits back on your hips again, eyes wide and unbelieving. “I mean—what the hell? What is wrong with you?”

You roll your eyes. “He must not be paying you much if you’re willing to back out just because I’m pitiful.”

Which isn’t true, he’s supposed to be paid quite a lot for this job, but he just can’t comprehend how you’re reacting.

“Why shouldn’t he have bothered?”

You’re no longer trapped except for the way he’s straddling your hips, so now you’re just laying against an uncomfortable pair of pillows, feeling the pins of your updo poking into your neck. If he’s supposed to kill you, why won’t he just do it? You search his eyes, finding only confusion and concern.

Sighing, you reach for his hand—the empty one that used to be holding both of yours against the headboard.

Oh, how you expected a very different outcome from this situation.

He flinches as he suddenly finds you bringing his hand towards your chest, jerking it back when you lay his palm over your breast.

It’s almost comical the way his face heats up.

Clearly, his earlier show of attraction towards you had been aided by a hurriedly consumed volume of alcohol and a professionally put-on flustered attitude, but now, when you made him touch you, he seems genuinely awkward.

And, for your side of things, you were going to let him feel you up anyway, so what’s the difference now?

You quirk an eyebrow. “I’m not asking you for anything, just give me your hand.”

He doesn’t protest when you catch his hand again, his cheeks flushed pink, until you drag his fingers across the slope of your breast and they trip over a lump of flesh that’s hard as a rock. The flustered color drains from his face, and then he’s frowning, leaning in, moving of his own accord to swipe his fingers over the place once more, as though he wasn’t sure he felt it the first time.

You let him.

When he pulls his hand back into his lap and stares at you, you just smile. “Did you know, in the early days of breast cancer surgery, a woman went in to have a lump removed, and when she came out of anesthesia, she was missing an entire breast, some ribs, and like half of the muscle wall of her chest? And the fuckass doctors were like “we got it!” Like, you don’t burn down the house in order to kill a spider and then say, “Don’t worry, we got it!””

Hyunjin blinks at you, mentally parsing your unexpected rambling. “They’ve, uh…come a long way in terms of cancer surgeries, I think.”

A puff of breath escapes your lips, another sardonic laugh. “It’s too late for that. It’s in my bones, my lymphatic, everywhere. I got to it too late.” You roll your eyes and press a palm to your forehead. “So, yeah, he shouldn’t have bothered. Three months and I would have been out of his hair for free.”

A few seconds pass as you process the words you haven’t yet admitted out loud to anyone, as he processes what you’re telling him.

He’s trying to kill a girl who’s already dying.

No wonder she didn’t care.

“So, how much is he paying you?” You question lightly, eyes searching for the syringe. You assume he’ll finish the job—everybody has to pay the rent, and it’s not like you’ve got your life ahead of you anyway.

Hyunjin scrubs a hand over his face and sighs. “Three million.”

You outright scoff at that, shocking him once again. “He’s ripping you off, dude. Did he tell you why he hired you?”

“I don’t ask. I am a professional, you know.” He brings his hand to his chest like he’s offended, and allows the slightest smile to twist his lips when you roll your eyes again.

You wedge your hands under you. “Can I sit up? I need to smoke and you’re killing my back.” You wiggle your hips and try to scoot yourself back. As he lifts his own hips off of you, you raise an eyebrow. “Not that I mind.”

At that, he flushes again.

Laughing softly, you pull yourself up to sit against the headboard, dragging your knees to your chest, and watch as he sits himself in front of you, cross-legged. For the time that it takes you to slide a cigarette from your purse and light it between your lips, he’s silent, watching you.

The syringe is at his side, laying between the wrinkles in the blanket, forgotten.

“My trust fund defaults back to him if I die before I hit eighteen.” You inform him. “And it’s 25 million dollars.”

His mouth falls open. “Why the hell is your trust fund so much money?”

“When my mom was dying, my father promised her he would help her allot her estate into a trust fund for me, plus a hefty sum from his own assets as a romantic gesture. For all his faults, he’s never loved anyone the way he loved her.” You scoff, sucking in a comforting drag of smoke. You’re careful to blow it away from him, to knock your ashes into the ring tray on the bedside table instead of allowing them to fall into the carpet. “But that was fifteen years ago, and I guess he forgot that he loved her once.”

“So he wants your trust fund.” Hyunjin says, leaning forward to rest his chin on his palm. “Because he forgot he loves you too?”

Your lips pinch. “I’m just a reminder of when he used to be a better man.”

Silence ticks between you, and the smell of your cigarette permeates the air. You can’t care enough to apologize to him for your filthy habit, because if it’s the last cigarette you’re ever going to have, you might as well enjoy it.

But he doesn’t seem put off by it, instead wrapping his hands around your ankles and pulling your feet into the criss-cross of his legs so he can scoot closer to you, resting his hands on your thighs.

You’re surprised, but not displeased with the gentle embrace of your legs.

“I don’t want to kill you, angel,” He says, and rests his chin on your knees.

It’s too much, the doe-eyed boy staring at you through the dim light, holding you close to him and running his hands up and down your thighs, fingers sweeping low enough to run across your hips.

You can’t look at him.

Turning your eyes away, you knock the ash off the end of your cigarette and laugh. “That’s so kind, thanks.” You drop the rest of the butt into the tray and brush your hands together. “Alright. I’m ready. Let’s get you paid.” You scoop up the syringe and hold it out to him, eyes wide and inviting.

He takes it from you, but he doesn’t take your arm again.

In the quiet of his indecision, you can’t help yourself. Your fingers find the soft swoop of his hair falling over his forehead, letting a few strands slide through your fingers before you pull yourself together and extend your arm to him. “Do it, Hyunjin.” You say softly, ignoring the way your movements made him look at you. “If you don’t do it, he’ll hire someone else. His campaign isn’t doing well, he’s facing asset forfeiture—he needs the money. If you don’t kill me, someone else will.”

Hyunjin’s hand finds yours, his fingertips smoothing up the underside of your forearm towards that vein that he found earlier. A drop of blood has gathered where he pricked you, the trail where it dripped dry and crusted.

You’re not scared, you’re not worried.

You’re a little relieved, actually, that you don’t have to pretend anymore. Because you’ve known for months that your time is running out. You’ve known for months that no one would care even if you told them.

The pounding of the music outside the door fills the space, reminding you that you were supposed to come in here to have the night of your life, and now, instead, the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen is going to inject poison into your bloodstream and leave you to die on a stranger’s bed.

That does dishearten you a little bit.

He presses his thumb against the vein. His eyes flick up to yours. “When is your birthday?”

You cock your head curiously, wondering. “Next month.”

Hyunjin lets the vein go and sets the syringe down near his hip. “I’ll make you a deal.” He takes your other hand, too, peering into your face with sincerity. “If I keep you alive until your birthday, we split the trust fund, 70-30. Then at least you don’t let your dad win, and maybe you can see if there’s some super expensive doctor who can help you. Or something. What do you think?”

You blink. “You’re going to trade being an assassin for being a bodyguard just for eight million dollars?”

He smirks, a flash of teeth in the dark. “Seven and a half, actually. And it’s a better gig than killing a dying seventeen-year-old just so her asshole father can take her trust fund. So, what do you say?”

You’re almost a hundred percent sure there’s no doctor or surgeon in the world who can fix your cancer at this point. All the ones you’ve spoken to so far won’t even recommend radiation or chemo, because there’s no point. They keep saying things like “quality of life” and “keep you comfortable,” not, “if only you had more money.”

But it’s interesting, this deal he’s put forward.

Die tonight or spend a month with a gorgeous young assassin?

Is it even a choice?

“We split it 50-50.” You say. “All I want to do with my half is give it to cancer research.”

He’s surprised again, his mind now struggling to grasp an influx of almost thirteen million dollars, and he nods slowly. “Okay. So we have a deal?”

He’s already holding your hands, so you can’t exactly shake on it, but you nod with a shrug. “Deal.”

You’ve never seen a smile as sweet as the one he gives you after that. “Good. Get your coat, angel—you’re coming home with me.”

Eyebrows skyrocketing, you follow his movements as he bounds off the bed and scoops up your purse. “So you’re going to kidnap me instead of murdering me?”

He holds out a hand and waits for you to take it. “Are you arguing?”

You let him haul you off the bed and find yourself laughing as his arm circles your waist and he hurries you out of the room. “Not in the slightest.”

Comment a request to be tagged! Han's is next :)

PART 2 INFO

Let me know what you think!!

tag list: @wandamaxoff @thecutiepieme @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @estella-novella @babyphotos0325 @softfor-svtptg @furfoxsake22 @tubelightanyaa @kayleefriedchicken @rockstarkkami @sp1derst0rrr @eastjonowhere @its-stayville-forever @allenajade-ite @naraportokala @jinniejjam @blackberryrains @feetoffthemalfoy @highandalive @scarlet789 @ramadiiiisme

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loomsims · 9 months ago

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Introducing...✧Starlit Glow!✧

I have reached yet ANOTHER milestone on this blog and I am so gagged rn you really don't get it 😅🫶🏽 Thank you guyths so much! 🥰 Here's a reshade preset for taking some pretty screenshots in TS3! I've downloaded so many different presets over the years, but I've always ended up editing them to the point of being unrecognizable, so I just decided to make my own. My goal was to make my shots bright and glowy with a soft and dreamy sort of feeling! :) This is my newest, and probably my favorite rendition of my preset! Comparison shots and details below!

: ̗̀➛ Details! ⋆·˚ ༘ *

This preset was created using Reshade 5.2.2!

This preset is NOT gameplay friendly and I made it purely for taking pretty screenshots.

I'm using the chaitones.fx from this collection of multi_luts created by the talented @erasabledinosaur! you need this for the preset to look right. I will include instructions on how to put it your game in the zip file! :)

I've made some effects toggable as they can get a bit overwhelming in certain lighting!

Ambient Light- shift+A

Hex Lens Flare- shift+M

Tonemap- shift+T

Cinematic DOF- shift+D

ts3 in fullscreen mode has a screen brightening effect which changes the way your screenshots may look, so your game must be in windowed mode for your pics to look like they do in this post!

Here's some more comparison screenies!

That's basically it! All I ask is that you don't claim this to be yours and don't try to modify it and re-upload it in anyway without my permission! If you use this in your game PLEASE tag me @loomsims I would love to see :-D Also if you run into any issues let me know as this is another first time for me!

➤ DOWNLOAD HERE 🤍

#ts3 #ts3 download #ts3 simblr #ts3 reshade #ts3 follower gift #the sims 3 #pleek tag me if you use this <3

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pendragaryen · 1 month ago

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It was rare, I was there I remember it all too well Wind in my hair, you were there You remember it all Down the stairs, you were there You remember it all It was rare, I was there I remember it all too well...

Pics by @merlination and me. Please don't use without my permission. In memoriam September 2012, shooting of Merlin BBC's last season in France, Chateau de Pierrefonds. Forever and always grateful that we had the chance to witness it, to be there.

It was rare... indeed. So much love. Always.

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pandora-writes-one-piece · 11 days ago

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The Meet-Cute - Kid's Story - 11

Source for pic

Imperfect 11 🔞

Word Count: 6867

Tags and Summary can be found here.

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Notes: This is a longer chapter! I would apologize for it, but I won't, because it was really necessary! Please don't hate me at the end of this chapter... It's futile! It will only get worse from here on out...

Here's a Spotify Playlist I created for this story if you want to check it out!

Masterlist

Divider by @cafekitsune

Kid went back to sleep. Or perhaps he never fully crawled out of the dregs of it when he uttered those words: “I ain't goin’ nowhere.”

With slow, calculated movements, you crawl out of his embrace and off the bed. The closest clothes you find are your top and panties, so you throw those on before you pitter-patter your way into the bathroom. You only turn on the softest light inside, knowing the brightness will spill into the bedroom. You empty your bladder and splash cold water on your face. Brushing your teeth comes after, and then your hair, except you can't find your hairbrush anywhere. It’s probably still somewhere inside your duffel bag.

So you run your fingers through the tangled knots of your hair, wincing when they get stuck on a particularly stubborn tangle, and stare at your reflection in the mirror.

The light in the bathroom may be dim, but it's unforgiving in its harshness. It gives life to the darkened bruises marking your body. Small ones shaped like fingertips around your hips and thighs; larger ones on your breasts and neck from Kid's bites. You're still sore in your core as well, from the harsh thrusts he used as a way to exorcise his demons.

You'd do it all over again without missing a beat.

He needed something or someone to bring him back from the dark place he was in, and you’ve proven before that he can't scare you away, that you'll always be there, no matter how hard and how far he pushes you.

And he said he wasn't going anywhere.

A brighter light turns on, and you squint before turning towards the door to find a shirtless Kid staring at you. He's frowning. His jaw ticks incessantly as his eyes rake across your body. Not in appraisal, but in deep inspection. He, too, can see what his late-night terror did to you.

Something akin to guilt or shame darkens his gaze, and you cower behind crossed arms as if they're armor, but he quickly paces forward, shaking his head and grumbling beneath his breath a litany of curses.

“Let me see,” Kid’s voice scratches like gravel. The only reason you’re reluctant to open your arms and yourself to him is because you know he’ll soak up every blemish, every bruise, every imperfection, and drown in guilt.

He reaches down and pries your arms open anyway, his frown deepening at the bite marks on your neck. “Kid, this is nothing. I bruise easily. You didn’t hurt me.” It’s true, he didn’t hurt you at all.

He lowers his hands to the hem of your top and looks into your eyes, waiting for you to nod before lifting it over your head and discarding it to the side. It's the first time he's asked for permission to do that, and that alone confirms what you already know: he's regretting what happened.

Kid's whole face scrunches up when he takes in the bruises on your breasts, a throaty sound of disbelief leaving his lips, as if he can't believe he did that himself.

“Fuck. I never meant to mark ye like this. I didn't…” Kid swallows his words and lowers his eyes to hide them from you.

“Do you regret it?” You fail to hide the hurt in your voice and use your arms as a shield again, covering your breasts, hiding your bleeding heart.

“Aye!” There it is. He didn't run, he stayed. But maybe this is even worse.

With gritted teeth, you turn your back on him, hiding your weakness from sight, because at this moment, you're not strong enough to fight back. Not after what happened.

“Fuck, not like that. I don't regret what happened, I regret how it happened.” Kid brushes the tip of his fingers over your bare back, running them over your spine almost reverently. “I regret takin’ instead of askin’. I regret not takin’ my time with ye. I regret hurtin’ ye like that.”

You look over your shoulder at him, at the hint of vulnerability he's showing you, being as transparent as the walls of this bathroom. Then you smile softly, and he huffs a breath of relief.

“You didn't take anything I wasn't willing to offer. I wanted to give myself to you, to bring you back. You were far away, Kid. Hurting. I'm glad I helped.”

He slumps his shoulders forward, head bowing down as well, almost as if the shadows of that nightmare still hang on the fringes of his mind. And maybe they do. Maybe he never really manages to completely shake off the terrors.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you ask, your heart thumping fast. Kid raises one eyebrow at you, and you sigh. “The nightmare?”

He shakes his head, shadows covering his eyes, and for a minute there, he's far away again.

“Got nothin’ to talk about. I've seen some shit durin’ my army days. War, death, terror… Nothin’ new, Sparkles.” The nonchalant way he's talking about it is a clear sign that what troubled him is far deeper than what he's trying to tell you. But by now, you already know Kid. It's much better to just give him space to process things. He'll surely speak to you whenever he's ready.

“It looked like you were hurting. But in more ways than just physical pain.” He grunts in agreement, and you show him a soft smile. “I'll drag you out of there anytime, Kid. You have my word.”

His eyes find the marks he left on you again, and he averts his gaze. “I'll make sure to be more careful next time…”

You step closer to him, placing one hand on his chest, over his heart. “It’s fine, Kid. Really.” He’s still avoiding your gaze, and you’re grateful for that when you make the next confession. “I’m just happy you didn’t run off or push me away.”

He hums in agreement, and you feel the rumble in his chest before he covers your hand with his. “I told ye. Ye are special.” Your eyes finally lock, and you can’t hold back a warm smile when he dips his head to kiss you.

He’s being very respectful, keeping the kiss chaste and innocent, but you force your way inside the seam of his lips, entering his mouth and claiming his tongue with yours. You deepen the kiss, aiming to make it as disrespectful as possible.

Kid’s hands drop to your waist, and he pulls you flush against him, your bodies touching, finding heat and comfort in the contact.

You break the kiss, panting, fingers threading through Kid’s hair. “Wanna shower with me?”

“Woman, why is that even a fuckin’ question?” he answers roughly, voice scratching with heat and desire. You can barely keep your hands off one another as he removes his prosthetic, you take off your underwear, and hop into the shower stall between kisses and fevered touches.

Warm water is spraying over your bodies when Kid suddenly drops to his knees. You eye him quizzically for a second before he presses you against the glass wall and places one of your legs over his shoulder.

“Wha—” you start, already breathless from guessing where this is going.

“I wanna do things right this time,” Kid murmurs, already trailing his lips along the wet skin of your calf. “Treat ye right.” A lick on the inside of your thigh. “Make sure I’m worthy of ye.”

When his mouth hovers over your entrance and he teasingly kisses your throbbing nub, you release a muffled moan and lean your back against the glass. Oh, God! He groans into your heat, inhaling and muttering something about you being ‘freakin’ addictive’ before latching his mouth onto your pussy, kissing you as fervently as he was moments ago on your lips.

You gasp, fingers slipping on the condensed glass as you try to find purchase. You have nowhere to hold on to, and your legs are about to give out.

“Oh my God, Kid!” you cry out when his fingers dip inside you, immediately curving against the spongy spot that makes you see stars.

“Aye, I’m yer fuckin’ god,” he teases, his low chuckle sending a new wave of heat up your spine and pooling low in your belly. “Yer gonna come in my mouth?”

“Hmm, hmm!” You can barely think, let alone utter any words. What he’s doing with his tongue should be illegal. He keeps rolling your clit between his teeth, sending little jolts of pain, and then he sucks hard, twisting pain into pleasure in a heartbeat. All while he pumps his fingers in and out of you relentlessly.

You grip his shoulders first, and then his hair. You try to hold on to your sanity too, while you're at it, but fail miserably as the first wave of pleasure crashes and washes you away. Moans and gasps of Kid’s name fall helplessly from your parted lips; your back arched so far that only your head is touching the glass wall. You’re thankful for the hand Kid moved to steady your hip, or you would’ve collapsed into a boneless mass as soon as the last wave cooled down.

Kid gets up, wiping his glistening chin with the back of his hand and pulling you against his body to hold you as you collect yourself.

“Kid… that was… God!”

He grins smugly, and you’re sure he’s been praised on this particular set of skills before. You try not to dwell on it so as not to ruin the moment and, instead, trail your hand down his chest, over his stomach, until you grip his hard cock between your fingers.

Kid grunts, the smug grin vanishing as you pump and squeeze his length. “I want you inside me,” you whisper sultrily, feeling his cock twitch in your hand. But before he can do or say anything, his watch beeps; an annoying alarm of sorts.

“Fuck me,” he curses, taking a deep exhale. “We need to be at the exhibit in twenty.” He groans, running a hand over his face. “We gotta hurry.”

“What?” A quick glance at the numbers displayed on his watch confirms his claim, and you both groan at the same time. “We'd better continue this later…” you mumble, reluctantly letting go of him.

“Ye can bet on that, Sparkles.”

-*-

The shower took longer than it should have because you kept touching each other under the excuse of helping with the routine. Thank heavens you both packed light. It was just a matter of throwing your toothbrushes and used clothes inside the duffel, and you were out the door with five minutes to spare.

“I’m going to miss that bathroom,” you tease, sticking your tongue out at Kid. “Maybe you should use this idea for the shower stall you have in the garage.”

“Aye! Turn it into a peep show and earn a buck or two?”

“Keen eye for business. I like it.”

The banter carries on the whole way to the show, and you can’t stop smiling. You and Kid are in a very good spot in your relationship right now. Sure, you haven’t made anything official, but you don’t even think labels are important at this point. After all, you were someone’s fiancé once, and look how well that turned out.

Kid still hasn’t fully opened up to you either, but you’re sure that in time he will. He may be rough around the edges, temperamental, explosive, even angry, like your father claims. But volatile and dangerous?

You’re dead set on letting Shanks know how wrong he is about Kid.

Kid doesn’t rest until he does a full sweep of Victoria to check her condition. Yesterday, you almost had to pry him away from the car because he wanted to sleep in it, afraid someone might do something while he was away. But the park closed after midnight, and there were even security guards stationed at the entrance. He had nothing to worry about.

“She’s good?” you ask with a hint of a smile.

“Aye.”

“See? Told you it was fine.” With a big stretch, you take a look around. The judges will start their rounds again in about an hour and a half, and the show opens to the public in thirty minutes. Like yesterday, most of the crowd will probably gather in the afternoon, but the day promises excitement.

The judges seemed to dote on Victoria yesterday, so if Kid keeps his cool today, when they question him on all the technical aspects of the restoration, she’s got a good shot at taking home the prize.

“I’m going to grab us some coffee while you set her up, ‘kay?”

Kid grumbles in agreement, already polishing off an invisible smudge only he seems to notice on the driver’s door. Shaking your head, you turn with a smile.

There’s a stall selling good coffee just three cars down, and that’s where you’re headed. You fueled up there yesterday, and the roast was pretty tasty. When your stomach rumbles, you glance over the pastries on display as you approach, considering grabbing some to bring back, since the only food you’re carrying is the snacks Kid salvaged from the vending machines last night.

The croissants look flaky and delicious, but one pastry with oozy cream steals your attention. You’re still deciding when the barista approaches, leaning on the counter until his face is practically next to yours.

“Morning, sunshine. I was hoping you’d show up today too.”

You look up with an awkward smile. He seems like the same barista from yesterday, but you’re not quite sure.

“Oh, hi. Yeah. Can I get two black coffees to go, please?”

He nods but doesn’t move. “Two? Tell me it’s for a friend and not a boyfriend…”

Christ, he’s flirting. Kid’s not your boyfriend. But he’s definitely more than a friend.

“I’m kind of in a hurry…” you try, discarding the pastries altogether. You’ll grab some donuts from the next stall or just starve until lunch. No biggie.

He chuckles dryly and finally moves to prepare your order. After a few minutes, he places one cup on the counter and grabs the other, pen in hand.

“What name should I write?”

You quirk an eyebrow, taking a look around. There’s no line, you’re the only one here. Why does he need to write your name on the cup?

You let out a frustrated sigh and a strained smile. “Write ‘not interested’.” You slide a bill over the counter, making sure it covers the cost of both coffees, and grab the cup, waiting for him to hand over the other.

“Ouch. I deserved that,” he chuckles. “See you soon.” He finally releases the cup, and you turn on your heel, making a mental note to find a different stall next time you need a caffeine fix.

Kid’s on his knees with a microfiber cloth in hand, scrubbing away invisible grime from the hubcaps. You bite your lower lip to stifle a snort. He’s adorable when he’s nervous.

“Gotta say, you on your knees is quickly becoming my favourite position to see you in,” you tease, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

Kid grins and rises with a final inspection of the pristine hubcaps.

“Happy to oblige whenever ye want, sweetheart. Just say the word.”

Now. Now would be the perfect time.

“Soon,” you say with a wink. “Here, power up for the onslaught of questions coming your way.”

Kid grabs the coffee cup and rolls his eyes. “Aye, bunch of idiots, thinkin’ they know shit about cars. Gotta let ‘em—” He cuts himself off, eyes locked on the sleeve of the coffee cup. “The fuck?” He arches a brow and turns the cup towards you, pointing his prosthetic finger at the handwriting scrawled on the sleeve. “Who the fuck’s Steve?”

You snort and cough, trying not to choke on the sip of coffee you just took. On Kid’s cup sleeve, the name ‘Steve’ stands out in proud, messy letters, followed by a phone number and a heart. You hadn’t even realised the barista had done that.

“The barista, apparently,” you say, amused.

“He flirt with ya?” Kid eyes the scribbled heart like it personally insulted him and his ancestors, then looks back at you.

“He tried. I told him I wasn’t interested. Are you jealous, Eustass Kid?” you ask, cocking your head to the side as you try to hide your amusement.

“Didn’t think I’d need to bust some teeth this early in the day, but fuck it. What stall was it?” Kid sets his coffee down and cracks his neck. You’re not entirely sure whether he’s joking.

“That’s cute,” you say, stepping closer to him and resting a hand against his chest. “But that’s not happening. Just drink your coffee, big man. No need to be jealous.”

Kid’s hand slips onto your waist as he pulls you close, his gaze still sweeping the stalls, trying to locate the offensive ‘Steve’ and weighing if he’s worth the trouble.

“I ain’t jealous,” he lies. “It’s just fucked up, that’s all. Fucker should know better than to flirt with someone who’s clearly taken.” His ears redden, and he glances at you, then the floor, then back again. “I mean… or will be. Soon. Maybe. Possibly?”

Your heart thrums wildly against your ribcage, and you can’t suppress the small laugh that escapes. He is adorable when he’s nervous.

“Certainly,” you say, ending his misery with a kiss. “So… what does that make us, then? What am I?”

Kid grunts, his hand sliding up your nape to curl into your hair. “Mine,” he claims before kissing you deeply.

Later, when you spot the coffee cup sleeve crumpled in the trash can, you let out the most unladylike snort imaginable. Jealous Kid is also adorable.

And you’re his.

-*-

Some of the judges have already made their rounds. Kid handled all the technical details in perfect Kid fashion: gruff, but effective. One of the judges is only supposed to come by after lunch, as he was delayed by personal affairs in the morning, so you’re both waiting for him to arrive. Some more nervous than others…

“Don’t be touchin’ Victoria with yer grubby potato chip hands, aye?” Kid’s getting grumpier by the minute.

“I’m literally five feet away from the car.” You open your eyes in exasperation, shoving another chip into your mouth.

“Still too close, woman.”

You shove the bag of chips into his hands with a growl and grab your purse. “I’m going to buy you something with chocolate to see if I can sweeten you up. Or else I may end up punching you in the nose,” you mutter with a menacing stare and try to leave with the last word.

One strong arm wrapped around your waist tells you that leaving is an impossible task.

“Ye ain’t leavin’ without givin’ me a kiss, are ye?”

You weakly try to protest and get away from him, but even if he let you, you wouldn’t want to. So you kiss him, hard and long, aiming to calm his nerves as well as get your fill of Kid.

When you disentangle from him, you set out to fulfill your original task and score some chocolate-covered donuts. Then you pass by a stall with ‘his and hers’ keychains and buy a set with hands doing the metal symbol, because you think Kid will appreciate it.

With a quick glance at the time, you curse and hurry back to Kid and Victoria, because the judge should be almost there, and you don’t want to miss what he has to say.

Just as you’re approaching, you see a tall man with long, straight blond hair dressed in a business suit, in front of a very flustered Kid. You can’t see the man’s face, nor anything that identifies him as a judge, but you do take notice of two bulky men with sunglasses and earpieces standing near him: bodyguards. He’s someone important.

“Ye fuckin’ deaf? I said no!”

And Kid’s yelling at him. Shit.

You bypass one of the bodyguards, swallowing hard when you realise he’s coiled tight, ready to spring into action if necessary, while closely watching the interaction between his employer and Kid. Reaching Kid, you set down the bag of donuts and place one hand on his chest, trying to bring him back to you without restraining him.

“Easy, Kid,” you lean closer, eyes piercing his. “He’s got bodyguards. Don’t do anything rash,” you urge.

Kid grunts and lowers his clenched fist, setting his eyes back on the man. “I said she ain’t for sale!”

You turn, taking the man in. He can’t be a judge, he has no identification on him. His face is stoic, with narrowed eyes and an angular jaw. He was watching Victoria with regard when you arrived, but now his piercing red eyes are pinned on you.

“Such a shame,” he drawls, and you immediately detect the haughtiness in his tone that can only be associated with wealth. His gaze lands back on Kid. “Money can buy anything. And I’m certain you could use some.”

Kid growls and takes a step forward, dragging you with him, fist clenched again. “Ye can shove yer bills up yer arse. Victoria ain’t for sale, I already told ye!”

“Kid, please,” you urge, pressing closer to him.

“Oh… interesting,” the man says with a tip of his head, eyes back on you. His gaze travels your body from head to toe in appraisal. Then he looks at Kid again, and his stoic features shift into confusion, as if he’s judging what you’re doing with Kid. “How… quaint.”

This only manages to fuel Kid’s fire. He grips your waist possessively and clenches his teeth. The closest bodyguard takes another step towards you. This could escalate quickly, Kid needs to calm down.

The man bows his head slightly. “Basil Hawkins. Entrepreneur. Investor. Billionaire.” He uses the words as titles, like he’s a king or an emperor. You know his kind all too well.

He eyes Kid again and sighs in discontent. “It’s hardly fair, you know. Not only do you have the most impressive car in this show, but you also have the most beautiful girl.” Kid huffs through his nose, and Hawkins smirks. “I’m sure that, for the right price, we can come to an arrangement.” He pauses, eyes piercing yours. “For either possession.”

Kid can’t seem to ignore the insult this time. He’s practically fuming at the ears. Nostrils flared, chest puffed, fists clenched, ready to pounce and tear. The bodyguard steps closer, and the one further away watches with interest.

You need to defuse this situation. Kid is running away with his anger, and men like Hawkins need to be brought down with ice, not fire.

You press your hand harder into Kid’s chest and straighten your back, your face morphing into the haughty Vinsmoke glare you acquired while you were Ichiji’s partner. You used to think of it as a mask. But right now, it’s armor.

“Mr. Hawkins, is it?” He nods. “I understand you're accustomed to people bowing and fulfilling your needs when you wave the right amount of bills their way, but not everything can be bought.” Your tone is icy cold, clipped, controlled, and sharp.

Perfect.

You close your eyes before you flinch. Somehow, slipping back into this person is easier than you thought. And here you were, thinking you’d left this past behind, that it was no longer necessary to be impeccable at all times.

“Not everybody places a price tag on things they love,” you continue. “Usually, it’s just the ones who have never had to earn anything in life who think that everything can be bought.”

You feel Kid coil back under your palm, a huff escaping his lips, but you don’t turn to him, not yet. You’re still poised to strike, like a coiling snake waiting for the prey to come closer.

Yet Hawkins doesn’t even blink. His interest sharpens, and the corner of his lips twitches upwards.

“So you’re not just looks…” Kid growls by your side, and you realise he’s one word away from throwing a punch. “Here I thought you were arm candy, when in fact, you’re a diamond. You don’t belong here.” His eyes scan Kid with disdain, and this time, it’s you who has to bite back a fit of rage. “You belong wrapped in silks and adorned with jewelry.”

Flashes of another life pass through your eyes, and your perfect poise falters before you compose yourself.

“Like a perfect little doll, I presume?” Hawkins laughs. Kid snarls. “Not anymore, Mr. Hawkins. I am exactly where I belong, and I don’t intend to move. After all, how dull and drab are gilded ballrooms laced with classical music when compared to the thrill of engine growls and the scent of gasoline?”

This was all Vinsmoke. And shit, you hated every bit of it.

Hawkins sighs, recognising defeat, and takes a step back.

“Still a shame.” His eyes land back on Kid. “A woman with such bright polish dimming her light for…” He pauses, assessing. “Brute force and blunt manners.”

You gasp. This will surely set Kid on fire. He was so close to giving in to his anger just now, the only thing holding him back was your hand, your will to keep him from doing something reckless and proving everyone right: that he’s volatile. And now…

Your head turns slightly to gauge his reaction, but there is none. Kid stares at the floor, his fingers still tight against your waist. But he’s lost in thought.

What?

“If you ever change your mind…” Hawkins leaves the thought unfinished, tips his head, and signals to his bodyguards to follow him.

Kid lets go of you, avoiding your gaze altogether as he busies himself with another rag and another invisible smudge. You’re sure he’s mulling over the words Hawkins spoke. That you don’t belong with him, that you deserve silk and jewelry.

“Kid…” you try softly. He doesn’t answer. Instead, he rises, throws the rag inside the car, and turns away.

“I’m goin’ to take a piss.”

And just like that, his walls are back up.

-*-

Victoria won second place.

Hawkins turned out to be the investor behind this show, and you’re pretty damn sure he swindled the votes because you’d bet your pinky toe Victoria was the best car there.

This only worsened Kid’s mood. He hasn’t spoken a word about what happened and keeps flinching at your touch. You refuse to believe you lost him again. Not because of something so trivial.

“Spit it out already,” you mouth, pacing back and forth as Kid looks at the thinning crowd. Just another hour or so, and you can be on the road again.

“There’s nothin’ to say.”

“Oh, my God, Kid. Enough! Just tell me what you’re thinking. We’ll never get anywhere if we don’t discuss things,” exasperation laces your words.

His throat works as if he’s trying to say something, but then he just shakes his head and lets out a loud curse.

“I know you’re upset about Victoria, and I’m sorry if I made things worse,” you sigh heavily, already having considered whether it wouldn’t have been preferable to have kept your mouth shut and simply held Kid back from doing something reckless.

“It’s not that,” he finally says, rumpling the microfiber cloth and tossing it in the bag with the other cleaning products. “Of course I’m pissed about second fuckin’ place, but that ain’t the whole reason. Fuck, I only entered for fun. It’s…”

“Hawkins?” you finish for him. You know it’s about that interaction. A lot of the strain in your relationship with Kid stems from the fact that he doesn’t find himself worthy and that he doesn’t accept the fact that he can be happy. And Hawkins just pointed it out.

“He met ye for five fuckin’ minutes. And he knew. Fuck. He knew ye didn’t belong by my side.” Kid kicks up dust with his foot and snarls, his eyes never once meeting yours. “Who the fuck am I kiddin’? Even yer dad knows this ain’t gonna work. I should know better. Ye should know better! Fuckin’ hell.”

You swallow a lump down your throat and reach for Kid’s hand, your heart constricting painfully in your chest.

He doesn’t pull his hand away.

“We believe in us, Kid. I think that’s reason enough.”

“Didn’t ye hear him? Ye don’t belong in this world! Ye should have silks and pearls and fuckin’ champagne or caviar! Whatever the fuck rich people eat.”

“I don’t want any of that!” You stamp your foot, pulling on his hand so he looks at you. “I’ve had all of that, Kid! The silks, the jewels, everything!” You sigh in exasperation when his gaze lands back on you. He barely knows about Ichiji and your past, perhaps you should be more open, too. “I want you, Kid. I will not grow tired of saying it, but it pains me that I have to constantly repeat it for you to understand.”

He looks down, brows scrunched and jaw ticking, but he squeezes your hand back.

“But what if I’m not enough?”

You step closer, hands resting against his chest, eyes finding his gaze.

“You’re everything.”

You see the fight in his eyes. His head is feeding him ways this could all go wrong, his mind viciously telling him he’s not worthy.

He closes his eyes and his throat works to swallow whatever emotion he doesn’t want to express. Then he cups your nape, fingers entwining with your hair, and lowers his forehead against yours.

His eyes open first, and his mouth next, but he doesn’t say anything.

He stares. And then he nods.

You pull him down for a kiss and pray that his walls are down again. This is just another hurdle. You knew what you’d signed up for when you started falling for Eustass Kid.

-*-

The drive home is peaceful. Kid doesn’t seem to be in a foul mood, but he’s not very talkative either.

“Are you upset?” you start, eyes out the window, watching the stars twinkle in the dark sky. The road is empty and eerie, and the landscape will be nothing but barren land for many more miles.

“About?” Kid grumbles, one hand on the clutch and the other holding the wheel.

“About getting second place.” You turn your head to him to gauge his reaction.

Kid grins, his eyes flickering to yours for a beat. “Fuck no.” Then he places his hand on your thigh, and you nearly melt at the touch. “That asswipe made a pass at both my girls and came out with jack shit. Obviously he was salty enough to get revenge.” He snorts. “He said so himself, Victoria was the most impressive car in the show.”

You smirk and nod, your chest warm from the way he said you were his girl.

Kid’s hand squeezes your thigh, and you look at it first before locking eyes with him again. “And ye, the most beautiful girl.”

The warm feeling spreads, and so does your smile. Kid’s hand goes higher, and his pinky comes dangerously close to your center. “Wanna spend the night at mine?”

The warmth turns to fire and goes lower, settling into your belly and spreading tendrils of heat everywhere. “Yeah, I do.” This time, you’re the one who snorts. “Shanks is going to love that.”

“Maybe ye ain’t gotta tell him? Just say we had to stay an extra night.”

“Making me lie to my dad, Kid? You’re such a bad influence…” You open your legs a bit, allowing space for his hand to roam freely.

Kid chuckles low, his chest rumbling with the sound. “Sweetheart,” he starts, fingers sliding higher, as smoothly as Victoria glides along the road. “Ye didn’t fall for me ‘cause I play nice.”

His finger grazes your center through your clothes, and you hiss, trapping your lower lip between your teeth. “Fall for you? You’re so cocksure, Kid.” But your words carry little weight as they come out breathless.

Kid groans and removes his hand from your leg, eliciting a small whine from your lips. “Hate to cut this short,” he huffs. “But Victoria needs a drink, and there’s a gas station up ahead. We ain’t finished, though,” he promises with a wink, and you sigh.

Damn timing.

Kid gives you a sultry look before he steps outside to pump Victoria. After a while, you hear him grumble something about ‘fuckin’ ancient gas stations’ along a string of colorful words. Then he opens the door and leans down.

“This shite ain’t workin’. I need to go inside to pay. Want anythin’?”

You shake your head, and he heads inside the dingy building, grumbling all the way. You get out of the car both to stretch your legs and to get some cool air, trying to calm your racing heart and aching core.

Stretching your arms, you smile, taking another look at the twinkling stars. You think about the endearing things Kid told you: about you being his girl, beautiful, taken… he’s not running away from you this time. And sure, there are some obstacles here and there, but nothing you can’t seem to handle.

One day at a time, like always. Nothing can ruin this.

Just as you’re about to return to your seat, you feel a grimy hand covering your mouth while an arm envelops your torso, trapping your arms from any movement. The person pulls you against them, and you’re hit by a foul smell of smoke, urine, and booze.

“Shh, shh, shh… calm down, pretty thing. I’m not gonna harm you. Shh, shh.” Your heart pounds relentlessly against your chest. You look inside the building but can’t even see Kid. The man keeps dragging you to the shadows, and you can’t even scream. Wiggling your legs, trying to find momentum to push back, doesn’t seem to be working either.

“I said, calm down. I just want your wallet and your phone. Nothing else, princess.” The man presses his cheek against your hair and then licks your face, leaving a wet, disgusting strip of spit on your skin. You whimper, tears already forming in the corners of your eyes. “Not that I wouldn’t mind a taste… but I’m in a hurry.”

He starts to pat your pockets, trying to find your phone, but it’s back in the car, so all he’s doing is copping a feel. However, he relaxes his grip for a second, and you use that moment to step on his foot with all the strength you possess. He screams and pulls his hand away from your mouth.

“KID!” you screech, scrambling to move forward, but the man grabs your waist and pulls you back, rotating you and slamming your back against the wall.

“You fucking bitch!”

He doesn’t have time to say or do anything else, because in the next moment, Kid’s grabbing him by the scruff of his neck and punching his nose hard enough to knock him out cold.

Relief floods your system. Wave upon wave of it, turning your legs to jelly and finally releasing the pesky tears you were holding back. Kid’s here. He heard you. He’s here to save you.

But then Kid doesn’t stop.

He’s holding the man up by his shirt, hitting him repeatedly. Punch after punch, blood spurting and painting his knuckles red. His teeth are bared, grunts tearing from his throat like a wild animal. The man crumples in his hands like a ragdoll, unconscious, and yet, Kid keeps going.

Dangerous. Angry. Volatile.

“Kid, stop! He’s unconscious!” you shout, your throat constricting as you watch him tear a man into pieces for you.

But he doesn’t hear you. His eyes are locked on your assailant, tunnel vision activated, and he’s unleashing hell. The sickening crunch of bones mixes with Kid’s grunts, and fear descends upon you. You need to stop him.

“Please! Kid! You’ll kill him!”

You step closer, grabbing his arm and pulling, trying to stop the onslaught of fists. But Kid doesn’t even acknowledge that it’s you.

He shoves you. Hard.

You stumble back with a gasp, your feet tripping over one another as your ribs slam against the corner of the metal payphone. A sharp pain jolts through you, travelling from your torso and expanding, stealing the air from your lungs.

You yelp in pain. And that does it.

Kid freezes mid-punch and raises his face, his eyes find you doubled over in pain, and he drops the man on the floor, rushing towards you.

“Shit! Fuck!” Your name spills from his lips like a prayer as his hands hover over you, not touching, just trembling. All the color drains from his face as his widened eyes take in your form. “I didn’t mean to— I didn’t— fuck! Are ye okay?”

“Yes!” you groan, pushing back the tears so as not to upset him anymore. “Let’s just go, please!” Your voice nearly cracks, and Kid winces. Then he nods, working to swallow the guilt past his throat, and leads you to the car.

You trap another groan against your teeth when he helps you into your seat, but he still hears it. When he sits in the driver’s seat and starts Victoria’s engine, you swallow another bout of tears. Not from pain this time. But from the knowledge that this is yet another obstacle for you to overcome, as if life itself is testing your resolve.

-*-

Dangerous. Angry. Volatile.

Your father’s words keep resounding in your head, over and over again. You’d never witnessed Kid lose his temper like he did this time. He is dangerous and volatile. But not to you. He didn’t hurt you on purpose. And by the way he refused to speak to you once after the incident, you know you’ll need to remind him of that fact.

“Kid…” you try for what feels like the hundredth time. You’re almost home, you won’t be getting another chance. “Please, let’s talk. It wasn’t your fault. That man was robbing me, you did what you had to!”

Kid’s grip on the steering wheel is so tight that his knuckles are white. He doesn’t answer.

Despair claws its way up your throat, and you touch his arm. He flinches but doesn’t pull away.��

“Say something… please!”

He doesn’t. And with one last turn on the road, you realise he’s taking you home and not back to the garage, to his home like he’d promised earlier.

You’re losing him again. And you’re not sure your heart can take much more.

Victoria comes to a halt in front of your porch, and you say a silent prayer that the light is off, which means Shanks is probably at Beckman’s or the bar. You don’t want to deal with him now. Kid cuts the engine, and silence surrounds you like a thick fog.

You open your mouth, ready to plead again, but he beats you to it. When he starts talking, his eyes are still fixed forward.

“It was a mistake to think I could change. I should’ve just stayed the hell away from ye from the start.”

“Kid—” you start again, and this time he looks at you. Your breath hitches, and whatever you were about to say gets trapped in your throat. His eyes are distant and guilt-ridden. Cold, like he’s already given up.

“I shoved ye. I hurt ye.” Kid’s voice cracks, and he clears his throat. “I didn’t even realise it was ye. I just… reacted.”

“It was an accident! You were protecting me, Kid, and—”

“But that’s the problem, innit? I don’t know how to protect without fuckin’ destroyin’!” Kid hits the wheel with his open palm, a frustrated growl escaping his lips. Then he sighs, running a hand down his face to calm himself. “Ye deserve better.”

A sob claws up your throat, and you fight back the tears. You’re already shaking your head, your trembling lip a testament to how your heart is shattering inside your chest.

“Kid, don’t… please don’t do this.”

You see his throat bob up and down as he takes in your features, memorizing you. Then he leans forward and places a chaste kiss on your forehead. His lips linger, and you claw at his shirt, pulling him to you.

“Don’t—” you try.

“I ain’t gonna be the one to snuff out yer light, Sparkles.”

Then he retreats, opening the door and stepping out. You barely register as he retrieves your duffel bag and opens your door, helping you out. You don’t know what to do. You don’t know what to say. How can you make him see it was an accident? That you need him? That you can only shine your brightest when he’s around?

“I—”

“Take care, alright?” Kid says, his voice heavy with guilt and regret. You garble some unintelligible words, but he’s already inside Victoria; already turning the car around; already leaving you.

You lost him.

And this time, the pain may be too great to bear.

Liked this story? Like my writing? Consider buying me a Ko-Fi, please!

Taglist: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @elysian-asphodel @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks @thegalaxysedge22 @kyllium @keiva1000 @chibinasuu @my-name-is-heartache @laidenbreecatchall @moldychefboyardeecan @dazzlingstarlight23 @bearg-bia @babyboofangirl @praline357 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @traffys-heart @cherileecore @violetmatcha @theloserqueen @mapachito @shamblespirate @ibuch7

|Chapter 12|

#eustass kid x reader #eustass kid #eustass captain kidd #eustass x reader #eustass kid #reader insert #the meet-cute #modern day world au #one piece #one piece x reader #kid x you #you x kid #reader x kid #kid x reader

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raspberrywhimss · 7 months ago

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[Pose Pack #18] - It's Go Time!

Hi everyone! I'm excited to announce that I'll be participating in @theserenadeofshadows' TS4 Family Member Collab! Melissa was so kind to organise this to fill the gap for family-related poses after the recent events in the community. Different creators will be releasing poses throughout Nov and Dec, and I'm kicking off my pose sharing with these ones where a pregnant Sim realises she's in labour. I'll release more in this "series" soon as I know many of us do generational gameplay and babies are a huge part of our stories/Sims' lives :)

Included / notes:

5 couple poses as labelled in the preview pics

Pregnant sims are vastly different, so some clipping or floating WILL occur (I tried to give more allowance for the hands, but you can angle your camera differently if your Sim has a smaller bump)

Made with height differences and M/F rigs

Place 2x teleporters anywhere

My poses will always be free, so any support is always appreciated ❤️

You will need:

Andrews Pose Player

Teleport Any Sim

TOU:

Please don't claim as your own

Please don't reupload without my permission / put behind any paywalls

Please don’t edit without my permission

Do tag me on Instagram (@raspberrywhimss | @raspberryextrass) if you use them. I'd love to see and nothing makes me happier as a creator :D

Let me know if there are any issues as well. Thank you and enjoy xx

DOWNLOAD (FREE): Patreon

@ts4-poses

#raspberrywhimss #my cc #the sims 4 #ts4 #sims 4 poses #ts4 poses #sims 4 cc

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someonehasgiventheratsapen · 11 months ago

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Nikolai doing some circus tricks!!

So, I've been taking circus classes for about seven years now. The aerial apparatus shown is called a lyra, basically a big hoop attached at the top with one or two spansets (I prefer two). The reference images are taken from a performance I did a couple months ago to the song Bernadette by IAMX, and I wanted to draw nikolai doing some of my favorite tricks from it.

Please don't use the reference pics without my permission. Also, lmk if I should do more of these :>

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iaminsideyourwalls · 1 year ago

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I'm opening commissions, so get 'em while they're hot! 3 slots open at a time, check my ko-fi or bio for openings.

ko-fi.com/wallsartcommissions

Terms below the cut, read before buying

Please let me know the kind of style, composition, and content you want in your piece! Reference images are greatly appreciated, and are required if you want me to draw your OC.

What I won't draw:

anything NSFW: explicit nudity, porn, or fetish art (nothing against these types of commissions, I just can't accept money for them when I can't verify ages online)

anime anything

NFTs

If you're not sure if I'll draw something, ask first. I accept direct messages on ko-fi and tumblr!

Yes, I will draw your OCs. Send a full body reference of your character. If you want a colored piece, please send a colored reference. OC commissions may take longer because I am working from a new reference.

The process: 1) Once you buy a commission from my listings and describe the commission you want, I will give you an estimate of how long you can expect the commission to take. Depending on how large and complex the piece, wait times may vary. 2) I will send you process images for your approval. If you want major edits, I may need to change the price. Once I get your approval for the final piece, I will not make any further edits. If I do not get any responses from you, I may cancel the commission without refund. 3) I will send you a png of the finished piece.

Payment: - I need payment in full up front through ko-fi - I don’t negotiate my listed prices, but I can work with you to price something not listed. - Prices are in USD. I don't accept crypto.

Refund policy: - I don't refund finished pieces. - For WIPs I can only refund the total cost minus the cost of the work I have already done.

Rights: - You own the finished piece for personal use, including profile pics on personal accounts. If you use/post it on your social media I require artist credit. - You do NOT own it for commercial use (you can't make money off of it in any way, make ad revenue off of it, use it to promote your products or brand, use it in a youtube thumbnail, use it as an NFT, sell it, sell it on a product, etc). I do not grant permission to use my artwork in any AI programs. - I may post your commission on my tumblr.

#art commissions

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sgiandubh · 10 months ago

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What do you think of the theme “we’re all adults here” starz is using

Dear Theme Anon,

That is a beautiful question and I think this is your lucky day: with a tropical night ahead (35C/ 95F - nope, that is not a bra size 😱🤣), we simply live at night, like Superman. So, while I am slowly cooking my famed (but tedious) Circassian chicken recipe for tomorrow night's semiformal dinner, it is with great pleasure that I am answering it.

Please excuse the length. I know what I am able to do when I really like a question and yours got me immediately interested. Thank you for that.

Funnily enough, I was just having a very enriching conversation this afternoon, with a very, very good friend, who is way more intelligent than I, so she has no desire to write any blogs on Tumblr. On the very same topic you raised, Anon. With her permission, I am going to sum up the gist of it (et merci encore à toi 😘😘).

Let's look at that pic again:

The Craigh Na Dun Fateful Dance of Love and Death is one of the most moving pivotal moments of the entire series. Tens of thousands of women have shamelessly cried all around the world, while watching this (haven't you? I know I have and did it with no grace whatsoever, but pinky promise: don't tell anyone else, please). And then watched and rewatched and rewatched to oblivion, with or without that Kleenex box and that Ben and Jerry icecream at the ready.

You know, it's exactly like Shakespeare writes in Romeo and Juliet's Prologue ( I hope I still remember it...): ' A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life'. Love and Death blended together is one of the most powerful narrative tropes that ever existed. So much so, that a guy named Denis de Rougemont even famously noticed that in French, a single letter separates l'Amour (Love) and la Mort (Death), with seminal implications for our Western World mentality, ever since the Middle Ages. For some mysterious reason, we seem to always be caught completely unguarded when exposed to such ultimate injustice.

Tragic magic. This is exactly what also made OL a cult series, irrespective of its (many) unjustified lengths, its (many) moments of uneven acting and its (many, way too many) bullshit pills thrown at an increasingly jaded and bitterly divided fandom. Life imitating Art was just an unexpected blessing and a curse, that much we shippers know, and I am not planning to dwell on it.

But how long can you continue to sell this product almost exclusively to women, all around the world, especially when you are faced with the prospect of a dragging/delayed merger & acquisition (never a good sign) and an increasingly dwindling number of subscribers (never a good sign, either)? I'd think not for too long, really, even if OL still is one of ***'s biggest success stories ever. How long can you pretend to sell a high-end content to 'premium women viewers', when you know very well that you chose to discard that famed 'female gaze', which turned the series' first season into an instant media phenomenon?

Riddle me that: how to sell this product for a profit and expand that fan base while, at the same time, trying not to lose your loyal hardcore viewership?

This is ***'s first answer - I bet this will be followed by some more things, but let's see what it might mean.

On that poster, the focus is still on The Mythical Couple. Selling that good old famed, surreal chemistry - remind those old fans of that moment they felt all those feels (awww....). At the same time, try and create a need out of thin air - 'you need more'. More of what? Sex? Violence? Sexual Violence? Intrigue? Politics? Political intrigue? Ethics? Dilemmas? Ethical dilemmas? All of the above? None of the above? Stupid poster won't tell, but hey: buy me and I'll speak. Buy. Subscribe. We'll think of a way to keep you hooked - at least for the next season and a half. After all, Season Eight is a study in freestyle. After all, we conveniently leaked the info that 'Erself wrote the finale's script (why risk GoT's epic #shitshow?), so all is fine and dandy.

On par with our Mythical Couple, we have that sword. Oversized. Symmetrically featured. Action, with an intelligent twist - that is a finely wrought blade, after all. Uh-oh: that spells a new, more inclusive target. Male audience. 25 to 75, to be more exact , because the only promise the poster makes is a sobering one: 'more than fairy tales'- color me surprised.

After all, 'we're all adults, here'. Key operating words: 'all' (more inclusivity) and 'adults' (not like in X-rated, but more like in 'serious shite').

Well, then. That would require narrative chutzpah and bold choices. That would require a faster paced script, less of those never-ending side stories and borderline neurodiverse focus on irrelevant details (I am still not done with that Fiery Cross and not even ashamed of it, at this point in time) that do plague The Books. And throw rotten tomatoes at me if you wish (I don't care), that would require the end of that horribly robotic directing - we all know what the hell that means.

Will they be able to keep that high-maintenance standard? One thing I am sure of: when you treat your fandom like shite and drag along endless spells of Droughtlander without as little as a bone thrown in for diversion for months in a row, you'd better hone that blade, darlings and go for a kill. Bring it on. Bring that addictive spice back, stat.

It is my humble understanding *** wishes to create an OL universe. Wanna bet the farm that somewhere in their cartons they do entertain the possibility of (at least) a second season of BOMB? S and C cameos could be a breeze to arrange, after all ( we consider this in theory - I happen to think it could be more complicated than that). The story could be duplicated to oblivion - is it way too outlandish to imagine a season devoted to Mandy and Jem's story through several timelines?

#anon #fandom #shitshow #10 years of ol #business #marketing

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sakssims · 1 year ago

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FLAP BAG COLLECTION👛

Hey everyone, I'm very excited to present the Flap Bag Collection: An iconic handbag coming to the Sims 4 with both classic colors, as well as a rare collector's edition with 50 swatches in total! I hope you'll enjoy these bags as much as I do!🌟

Special thanks go to @dovewalker for creating these amazing showcase photos as well as the gif clip!

FLAP BAG CLASSIC EDITION

30 Swatches (100% New Mesh)

Decor / CAS

FLAP BAG COLLECTOR'S EDITION

20 Swatches (100% New Mesh)

Decor / CAS

3d Model Credits: aimadbro

DOWNLOAD HERE

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

IMPORTANT: Please use the decor / blender version for rendering and DON'T place blender files in your mods folder!

Looking forward to seeing my content in your pics so make sure to tag!

Do NOT re-upload, include the Mesh or claim as your own!

Do NOT recolor or convert without my permission!

Enjoy!🙏🏼

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just-here-with-my-thoughts · 1 year ago

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Day 19: "Please Don't" / Adrenaline Crash

@febuwhump prompt: "Please Don't" @badthingshappenbingo prompt: Adrenaline Crash

Fandom: The Bad Batch Characters: Hunter, Omega, Wrecker, Tech, Echo (Did you read Day 5: Rope Burns / Bound & Gagged and Day 12: Semi-Conscious / Over-the-Shoulder Carry? This is a continuation! Follow the links above to catch up on the story so far) Word Count: ~3005 Click here to read on AO3 Also available in Russian (with thanks to @tech-o-mania for the amazing translation!)

Synopsis: Hunter loses control as he hunts down the mercenaries who captured and injured Omega.

Art by the awesome @collophora of my gorgeous Feral Hunter! Thank you so much for this beautiful pic and letting me post it with my fic, everyone go view collophora's original post HERE and tell them how great they are! <3

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Omega swings her legs as she sits on the edge of the table, watching as Tech methodically extracts embedded strands of hessian from the wound on her left wrist. Her right is already swathed in bandages, the bacta gel bringing a soothing numbness that dulls the pulsing pain to a background throb.

She draws her breath in as a hiss though her teeth at a particularly painful pull, and Tech glances at her to check she is okay. He doesn’t continue until she nods to give him permission to do so.

The com at the engineer’s wrist crackles to life. “Come in, Tech.” It is Wrecker’s voice, low and urgent.

Tech pauses his ministrations to answer the com. “What is it, Wrecker?”

“I need backup.”

The big clone’s voice over the com is deadly serious, none of his usual joviality.

“What is your status?” asks Tech, his voice taking on a more clipped edge.

“It’s Hunter.”

Tech quickly looks up at Echo, and Omega doesn’t miss the alarmed look that passes between them.

“Will you and Omega be alright by yourselves?” Tech asks, putting the tweezers back in the medkit and standing.

Echo nods, resting a hand on Omega’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about us. Go help Wrecker.”

“Help Wrecker with what?” asks Omega, getting to her feet and looking first at Tech, then Echo. “Are they in trouble?”

“You are still in need of treatment,” says Echo firmly, trying for a smile which comes out too tense to be reassuring. “I’m sure Tech will manage without us.” He gestures back to the table. “Sit back up, and I’ll finish your wrists.”

Tech is gathering his equipment, and Omega leans past Echo to see him set his pistol to stun.

“I want to go with Tech,” she protests softly. “I want to check that Hunter and Wrecker are okay.”

Echo and Tech exchange another look. Omega is getting pretty tired of the unspoken conversations they share with their eyes.

“Finish attending to Omega’s wounds,” says Tech eventually. “Then you may follow… carefully.”

Hunter’s pistol is in his left hand, balanced on his forearm which is crossed in front of his body, vibroknife held blade outwards. The hum of adrenaline is in his veins, pulse pounding, slowly building to a tense knot of pain at the base of his skull which will surely become a migraine later.

Two more mercenaries up ahead, just out of sight. He can hear them.

Hunter doesn’t have to think about softening his footfalls. The predator’s stealth comes naturally to him.

In moments he is around the corner and the two men are ten paces ahead, weapons out as they scout the corridor.

They don’t know that death shadows their movements.

In his ear, the com pings. Hunter shakes his head, shutting it off irritably. Not now. Whatever his brothers want, it can wait.

He rolls to his toes, picking up speed. Closes the gap in a sprint.

One shot with his pistol. The laser-burn eats through the first man’s skull. The second turns but Hunter is on him, and the vibroknife tears out his throat before he can cry for help.

Hunter pauses for a moment, surveys his work. That makes four of them he has eliminated now. Four of them who harmed his Omega. Four of them who will never threaten her again.

A high-pitched whine, like tinnitus, sets up in his head. He pulls his helmet off, rubbing his ears, trying to chase away the source of the sound.

His helmet is dropped to the floor, forgotten, as he sets off to find the rest of his quarries.

Tech tilts his datapad towards Wrecker. “I have picked up the bounty hunters’ com channel. They seem concerned that they cannot raise a number of their companions.”

Wrecker looks up from fitting binders to the two mercenaries he has captured. “Hunter won’t waste any time,” he says gruffly.

“He may have deactivated his com, but I can still track his locator beacon,” says Tech. “Leave these two here. We must catch up to Hunter as soon as we can.”

Hunter crouches on the narrow gangway, watching the knot of mercenaries in the hangar below. Five left. Their conversation drifts to him but it is just noise. He can’t make his head understand the words.

It doesn’t matter what they are saying. Hunter will be among them soon, and their words will give way to screams and then they will be dead. He plans to make sure of that.

The migraine closes its vice-like grip on his consciousness and Hunter pulls his bandana off, trying to ease the pressure at his temples. A faint aurora halos his vision, sparkling in the periphery. His back teeth ache.

He creeps along the perforated metal walkway, feeling it sway a little from the suspension cables that keep it aloft. He holsters the pistol, curling the fingers of that hand around the rail instead. His right hand continues to clutch the vibroknife like it is an extension of himself.

Almost directly above them. From here he can drop onto the group, break his fall with one of their bodies, before wreaking his vengeance.

Hunter climbs silently to the railing. Leans over the edge, gravity pulling at his body, braced now on the outside of the walkway.

Ready to drop.

Echo spots the pair of bodies before Omega does. He stops her with a hand on her shoulder and ventures forwards cautiously, already knowing what he will find.

He is surprised to see the half-skull of Hunter’s helmet staring up at him from between the fallen mercenaries. He scoops it up and checks the wiring. The com is undamaged. It has been deliberately disabled.

Behind him he hears Omega.

“Tech, come in. Did you find Wrecker and Hunter?”

She has her bandaged hands pressed to her com, trying to raise her brothers. Echo hurries back to her, Hunter’s helmet in hand. Omega’s eyes go wide as she sees it.

“Is Hunter okay?” she asks in a fearful whisper, reaching out to brush the side of the helmet. The fresh bandages across her palms come away stained red.

“Don’t worry,” mutters Echo, “it’s not his blood.”

There is a moment of confusion before the meaning of his words dawns on Omega. She leans past him to peer down the corridor. Two bounty hunters. Not unconscious. Dead.

“Oh,” she says in a small voice. Then, looking up at him with a determined frown, “We need to find Hunter.”

Wrecker and Tech press tightly to the door-frame, one on either side of the corridor that has brought them to this hangar. Tech’s datapad says this is where Hunter should be, but all they can see are the clustered mercenaries.

Wrecker is the first one to look up. His hands move in a quick signal sequence, drawing Tech’s attention to their brother in his ambush position.

“Hunter,” breathes Tech. And as though it is a command, Hunter drops.

The chaos is immediate. Hunter is amongst the mercenaries, pistol forgotten, knife indiscriminately biting through cloth and armour into flesh. Panicked cries answer his sudden appearance. Blaster fire greets him.

Tech and Wrecker recognise Hunter’s grunt of pain like it is their own. They take a single moment to share a nod, and then they too join the fray.

Wrecker charges in, shoulder down, crashing into a mercenary and knocking him away from Hunter. Tech skirts the edge of the hanger, diving into a roll to evade a stray blaster bolt. He comes up with his pistol ready, gaze flitting over the knot of combatants before choosing his target. He knows this is the quickest way to end this.

Omega’s voice comes over the com but doesn’t answer. He needs all his considerable wits about him if he wants to take down his younger brother.

He steadies his aim.

He fires at Hunter.

Somewhere beyond the roaring in his ears Hunter is dimly aware that he is injured. There is a lingering trace of heat as the laser-burn crawls against his skin, softened from deadly to merely painful by the layer of his armour. It slows him, but he doesn’t let it stop him.

He ducks a wild haymaker meant to knock him to the ground and comes up inside the man’s guard. The mercenary yells as Hunter’s forehead connects with his nose, blood gouting from the broken cartilage, and Hunter winces at the shout pierces his already tender headache.

The migraine is stabbing behind his eyes now, his vision winking in and out in bright flashes. He has to finish this fight soon, or he won’t be able to.

The sudden jolt of a stun blast catches him in the back. He feels the sensation ripple forwards across his chest, electric, followed by numbness. The blast threatens to short out his enhanced senses.

With difficulty he fights the blackness that follows the stun bolt, dragging his awareness back to the fight. Two others still standing. To his surprise, he realises Wrecker is one of them.

Then Hunter feels an attacker leap onto his back. He howls in panic and anger; instinct directs him to dip his body, rolling the assailant over his shoulder. He grabs them and slams them into the floor, a blow designed to stun.

Recognises the helmet. The goggles.

“Tech?” he slurs in confusion.

And, “TECH!” The shout is echoed by Wrecker, scooping up their fallen brother.

The final mercenary takes advantage of the distraction. Two blaster bolts hit into Wrecker’s back, staggering him, and he clutches Tech to his chest protectively. Hunter watches as the bounty hunter retreats, fleeing for the bikes they came in on.

His prey's footsteps are still reverberating at the edge of Hunter’s enhanced hearing when others approach from behind him. He whirls, sees Echo and Omega.

“What happened?” demands Echo, crossing to Hunter. With one hand he pushes Omega behind him, making sure she doesn’t step round and see the Sergeant. Doesn’t see the feral gleam in his eyes, the sharp and dangerous expression of his open-mouthed panting.

“I’ll find him.” Hunter’s voice is a subhuman growl. “I’ll end it.”

Omega paces anxiously, glancing towards the farthest exit to the hanger. Tech is conscious but dazed, propped up against a storage crate as Echo checks his pupils. She worries for Hunter, but she has been told to stay put.

Wrecker finishes restraining the still-living mercenaries and rolls his shoulders, easing out the stiffness of the injuries he sustained. His own blaster is loose in his hands, still set to stun.

The bodies have been hidden to one side, smeared trails of red marking the route they had been pulled. So much for out of sight, out of mind. Omega curls up over her injured hands, rubbing at her wrists through the bandages. The rope burns itch under the healing bacta gel.

“Tech will be fine,” reports Echo, “but one of us should stay with him. Omega?”

“I’m going after Hunter,” she announces, before she can be asked to play medic. She turns and looks at Echo with her mouth set in an unhappy line.

Echo calmly meets her gaze. “Hunter won’t want you to see him like this,” he says softly.

“Hunter needs me.” She is the embodiment of stubbornness. “I know it.”

Wrecker’s big hand touches her shoulder gently.

“I’ll keep her safe, Echo,” he says, voice strained with an ache of worry. He pushes his helmet back down onto his head, the snarling skull hiding the concern in his eyes.

“Let’s go, kid.”

Hunter is exhausted, muscles trembling as he forces them to continue. He has to do this. The image of Omega’s injuries is burned behind his retinas, the scent of her fear cloying. He failed to protect her once. He won’t do so again.

One more mercenary, and the job was done. There would be no-one left to threaten her. And if this group didn’t return, perhaps whoever was hunting them would think twice before sending more agents to kidnap her.

Protect Omega. Blood pounds in his head. Every footstep is a hammer-fall on the anvil of his overwrought senses.

Protect Omega.

A blaster shot hits his right hand. The vibroknife is flung free of his grasp, spinning into the air and embedding in the wall above his head. Hunter startles, the pain in his hand almost enough to stop him from evading the follow-up shot aimed for his heart. He twists at the last moment, the blaster bolt grazing his chest-plate.

Then his feral instincts are back, taking over, shutting down the thoughts that are distracting him and driving him forwards into the fight.

Hunter lunges, closing the distance to his would-be ambusher in a burst of speed that belies his injured state. He doesn’t remember that he has a pistol. Instead he barrels into the man, tackling him to the floor. The two of them roll, fighting for dominance, and Hunter comes out on top. Slugs the man. Pain explodes in his knuckles but he doesn’t stop. Again. And again.

Under the onslaught the mercenary’s face is transforming to a swollen, bloody pulp. He writhes and bucks under Hunter, throwing the sergeant off and scrambling for escape. Hunter leaps after him and they are back to brawling, only it isn’t a brawl. The man is sobbing, arms over his head, trying to shield himself from Hunter’s incoming blows. Pleas dribble with bubbled blood from broken lips. The man weeps for mercy.

Hunter’s onslaught continues. One more mercenary, and the job is done.

Protect Omega. Protect her at all costs.

Omega and Wrecker round the corner and Wrecker pulls them up short. Hunter is locked in combat with the final mercenary, the sickening sound of fist hitting flesh and the crepitus of broken bone reaching them across the otherwise empty room.

Omega recoils, watching the scene with fascinated horror. The brutality makes her sick to her stomach, but she can’t look away.

Hunter’s hair is loose, missing the bandana that usually tames it, and hangs lank and sweaty about his face. Blood streaks his fists and spatters his armour. The air is punctuated by his soft grunts and laboured breath, and the moans and whimpers emanating from the figure that is huddled beneath his fury.

Wrecker lays his hand on Omega’s shoulder, trying to coax her away. “Omega,” he says, and his voice quavers. He crouches in front of her, interposing himself between her and the brutal scene, and pushes his helmet back on his head to lock gazes with her.

“What is he doing?” Omega whispers in horror, brown eyes wide as she searches Wrecker’s face for answers.

Wrecker merely shakes his head. “You should get outta here, kid. Head back to the Marauder, wait for the others.”

He stands and turns away from her, dropping the blaster and moving towards Hunter with his hands held up defensively. It is like he is approaching a wild animal, wary of attack.

“Hunter, stop it. Please, vod. He’s down, he surrendered. This isn’t right.”

If Hunter hears him he gives no sign. His punches keep flying, sluggish but solid. His victim lets out a single broken sob.

Omega’s com chirps.

“Omega, are you alright?” It is Tech, his voice weak-sounding as he recovers from concussion.

“We found Hunter,” she whispers, riveted on Wrecker’s careful advance.

Wrecker nears Hunter and his victim, one hand extended. “It’s me, Hunt,” he says, softening the brash edge of his voice. “Time to stop. Okay, vod?”

Hunter doesn’t hear him. Or ignores him. It is hard to tell.

“Is Wrecker able to handle the situation?” asks Tech.

Omega shakes her head. “No,” she says, voice trembling with determination. “But if Wrecker can’t make Hunter stop, I will.”

“Be careful, Omega,” Tech warns her, and she steels herself for what is to come.

She steps past Wrecker, ducks to evade his grasp as he tries to stop her. On shaky legs she closes the distance. Hunter, her Hunter, is a creature she does not recognise. Ruthless, bloodstained, no glimpse of gentleness or mercy.

Hunter leans back, winding up for a huge hit. Omega darts in front of him, catching hold of his fist, levelling her intense brown-eyed stare into the wildfire of his fury.

Omega positions herself directly in front of the exhausted sergeant. Hunter is on his knees, tattooed face glazed in sweat and blood that almost certainly does not belong to him. His shoulders heave as he gulps in great lungfuls of air.

“Don’t,” she says. A plea. A command. “Please don’t.”

For a moment Hunter’s eyes turn glassy and unfocused, pupils trembling with rapid dilations before he eventually blinks and manages to fix his gaze on the girl before him.

“Omega?” he croaks weakly, and staggers to his feet. He sways a little, then replants his feet and braces a hand against her shoulder to steady himself. “You’re meant to be with Tech.”

Unexpectedly, he retches. Omega takes a startled step back as Hunter heaves bile, his whole body trembling. When he is done he wipes his mouth slickly on the back of his hand, glancing round in confusion.

Wrecker steps forwards, caution still written in his posture. “Hey, Hunter,” he says softly, a greeting to his brother as he returns to his senses.

Hunter sags against Omega, his arms going round her in relief, and she can feel the uncontrolled quaking of his body as adrenaline fatigue truly sets in.

Quickly Wrecker steps in to support him, taking some of his weight from Omega. But Omega wraps her arms tightly round Hunter’s waist, pressing her face against his chest, ignoring the scent of blood and blaster-fire as she feels his trembling hand run through her hair.

“I forgive you, Hunter,” she whispers, fingers digging into the cracks of his armour as they both cling to each other with equal ferocity. “I forgive you.”

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