#i will not take any arguments on this one

[emphistic]

MEDDLE ABOUT

SYN. Being co-stars with your ex-boyfriend of three months is basically hell; or at least, that's what you think. AKA: Sukuna wants you back, whether he's acting or not.

TAGS. actor AU, fem!Reader, mean!Sukuna, exes to lovers, forced proximity, sharing a cigarette, smoking, arguing, eventual smut, Sukuna likes to shut you up with his dick, cockwarming, answering the phone during séx, orgasm denial, dacryphilia, porn w/o plot, use of pet names: baby, sweetheart, pretty girl, my dear (mockingly)

WC. 5.4k (please read anyway 😞)

AN. requested by anon (you didn't specify any genre, so i just freestyled 🤷‍♀️), animated dividers by @/cafekitsune; i'm a sucker for actor AUs; available on ao3; MDNI

“I know you wanna kiss me,” you smiled, leaning closer to Sukuna’s face. Your noses were barely apart, and you couldn’t tell where his breath ended, and where yours started. To be honest, this was far more intimate than any other kiss scene you ever had to film.

“Yeah?” Sukuna grinned, getting equally as close. “And what’re you going to do about that, pretty girl?”

“. . .Fucking slap you, that’s what.” 

“CUT!” The director yelled, groaning in exasperation. “C’mon, people. I know it’s been a long day, but put your differences aside for the sake of one movie, will ya? When you receive your paycheck, you’ll regret all of this ‘huffing and puffing’ you two are both doing right now.”

You exhaled, pulling away from Sukuna. It’s not that you couldn’t remember your correct lines, it’s just. . . You couldn’t take it anymore. Being in the same room as him, breathing in the same air as him, starring in the same movie with him. Fuck, you hated this.

You and Sukuna had broken up exactly three months ago despite having what seemed like a pretty healthy relationship. Seemed is the key word.

Of course, you two had your ups and downs, like an ordinary couple, but what differentiated you two from a normal couple was the fact that you guys both juggled busy careers as an actor and actress. Being booked with interviews, PR stunts, and in general, movies, you and Sukuna didn’t have the ability to spend much time together. And, as if that wasn’t enough, there was constantly a multitude of women on his arm during movie premieres. Yeah, you knew those were all for PR, but still, it hurt to see your boyfriend standing with a woman that wasn’t you every day.

At first, you thought you could take it. Being an actress yourself, you had your fair share of rumors and made up scandals. But it came to a point where you couldn’t take it anymore. You and Sukuna broke up, consequently, and fans immediately voiced their opinions and concerns, bombarding Twitter with trending tags, and posting videos on several apps. The internet had been obsessed with you guys as a couple since the first movie you two co-starred in—which was years ago—so their complaints definitely weren’t for naught.

Originally, you thought that your relationship with Sukuna would end on good terms, but boy, oh boy, were you wrong. Sukuna, just mere days after your breakup, was spotted by paparazzi walking around the city with his arm around a girl you definitely did not recognize as one of his current co-stars. And to make matters worse, he had the audacity to hit you up and ask if he could come over to your penthouse right after.

Men, am I right?

You two may or may not have slept together as exes a few times after your inevitable argument about him and that new girl, but rest assured, you did eventually break things off permanently. Well, you thought you did. As if by fate, you and Sukuna were casted as co-stars in an up-and-coming romance movie that had your fans just dying in anticipation of finally being able to see their favorite (broken up) couple together on screen again.

To be frank, you were originally going to pass up the role as the female lead—seeing as your luck had landed you as co-stars with Sukuna—but your manager apparently really, really wanted you to work on the film, saying things like Think of how elated your fans will be and It’s an adaptation from a book that made millions and Just imagine all of the PR and promoting you could do. It took a while of convincing—and coercing—to get you to finally agree to the role since, after all, PR was the main reason for your and Sukuna’s breakup. But, honestly, you would be lying if you said there weren’t any feelings left for your ex-boyfriend, Sukuna.

“I think we should all take a breather,” Sukuna began, jeering, “before someone gets all hot and bothered by just being on the same set as me. Wouldn’t you agree?” Sukuna turned to you, an expression on his face that just made you want to punch him in the nose.

“‘Hot and bothered’, seriously? Don’t make me laugh.” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest.

Sukuna tilted his head to the side, grinning. “Do you think I’m joking? I could feel the way your heart was racing earlier, when we had to shoot that hugging in the rain scene. Just admit it, this isn’t acting for you.”

He was definitely self-projecting, you scowled just by the thought of it.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, sweetheart. We all know how you really feel,” Sukuna teased, leaning down to your eye-level. His breath fanned your reddening ear as he whispered, “You want me so bad it makes you look fucking stupid.”

And when he pulled away, Sukuna added one last remark, “I know it’s been a long three months for you. Say, how’s that blondie treating you, hm? I bet his dick is as small as his future in acting.”

“Ryomen, just stop.” You shook your head. “It’s not like that with him, and you know that. Just leave me alone.”

You shoved at his chest as you walked off set, your assistants following you promptly with water bottles and towels.

In all honesty, you remembered it like it happened yesterday. Before you and Sukuna became boyfriend and girlfriend, your first meeting was in a movie that you both starred in as the female and male lead. It was a romance movie, of course, that was about a couple meeting on an island while both on individual vacations. You two spent most of your days on set in swimsuits and bikinis, consuming fake alcoholic beverages, and, consequently, sleeping together—after the tension just grew unbearable.

On and off camera, Sukuna had been growing an attraction towards you. I mean, who could blame him? You two had to be near each other while being basically half-naked. And, if your pretty face wasn’t enough to beguile Sukuna, your ass definitely was. From the moment he shook hands with you at your first meeting as co-stars, he knew he had to have you—acting or not.

That movie was the start of the skyrocketing of both your and Sukuna’s career in acting. Fans quickly noted how much chemistry the two of you had together, and how well you two could act out emotions and intimate scenes. What the audience didn’t know, though, was that you and Sukuna had started seeing each other a few weeks after shooting together.

Sukuna had invited over the whole cast and team for drinks after a successful movie premiere, and you two ended up talking and conversing in his kitchen whilst a little under the influence. You two hit it off, and learned that being an aspiring actor wasn’t the only thing you two had in common. One glass turned into two, and two turned into stumbling into Sukuna’s bedroom after everyone had responsibly ordered a cab home.

Waking up the morning after, and deciding it wasn’t just going to be a one night stand, you and Sukuna thus began your new relationship. At first, you two avoided being spotted in public together, but it came to a point where your relationship just couldn’t be hidden anymore and you both decided to go public. The internet responded almost immediately with cheers, enthusiasm, and occasionally, expressions showing how un-surprised they were. I mean, you two had been shipped together almost constantly; making it official was almost expected. 

Years passed, the honeymoon stage was over, your careers were more demanding and busy than they had ever been, and, well, you know the rest.

—

“Fancy seeing you here.” 

A grimace immediately made its way onto your face at the sound of Sukuna’s voice calling out to you from behind. 

“Hilarious,” you deadpanned, turning to face Sukuna as he sat down beside you and slung an arm around the back of the couch, “I was hoping the next time I saw you would be at your funeral.”

“A little harsh, don’t you think?” chided Sukuna, as he brought out a cigarette and lit it.

You crossed your arms over your chest, leaning back against the couch. “What do you want?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Sukuna leaned his face closer to yours, his eyes running down your face and naturally drifting to your lips.

“Unless you’re being your usual asshole-self, and here to annoy me in my dressing room, I’m afraid not.”

After you stormed off set, the director decided it was best to just call it a day and continue filming tomorrow. You went outside for a bit to get some fresh air, before deciding to return to your dressing room and get unready. Stripping down and putting on nothing but your robe, you had sat yourself down on the couch and picked up a magazine, planning on spending a few minutes relaxing before making your way home. Sukuna barging in, despite being off the clock, was something you definitely weren’t expecting. He wasn’t supposed to be here, and if someone found out. . .

“You’ll be in a lot of trouble if my makeup artist comes in here and sees you,” you commented. “Go smoke somewhere else.”

At this, Sukuna’s eyes flickered up to your own, and he removed the cigarette from his lips before blowing out the smoke right in front of your face. Your nose scrunched up, as if on instinct, and Sukuna booped your nose with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“I swear,” you began, snatching the cigarette out of Sukuna’s hands, “if I don’t kill you, I hope these will.” Now was your turn to put the cigarette between your lips. You inhaled, and took a deep breath. But, only moments after, the cigarette was out of your hands and abruptly stubbed on a nearby ashtray.

Sukuna looked at you with an intent look on his face. “As much as I find that hot, I’d rather I be the one damaging my lungs. Not you.”

“Looking out for little old me? How cute,” you smiled, your tone sarcastic. “I see you’re not over us, yet, hm? Did that new girl change your mind?”

You leaned closer to Sukuna, your shoulders brushing ever so slightly.

As soon as you mentioned that other chick, Sukuna rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. It was nothing, we didn’t even hold hands. C’mon, all we did was sit next to each other at a party, and now you’re on my ass about her?”

You shrugged, picking up the magazine you had previously discarded and flipping through the pages with faux interest. “Oh, really? Didn’t look that way to me. You two sure seemed buddy-buddy.”

“Like hell we did. Fuck, do you want me to bring up that twig you were with last week? Kid’s got no meat on his arms. Can’t even call him a man. Is that seriously how low you’re willing to go, babe?” Sukuna scoffed at your lack of attention to him. “Shit’s even worse than a downgrade.”

“You can think that all you want. But I definitely disagree.” You struggled to stifle a giggle.

Sukuna, furrowing his brows, narrowed his eyes at you. “The fuck do you mean by that? Don’t tell me you’ve seen his dick.”

“I dunno, have I?” You turned to Sukuna, meeting his gaze with an equal amount of irritation.

“Must’ve been pretty small, though, if you can’t even remember it,” Sukuna pressed, leaning closer to you, your noses touching, before pulling away. “Whatever, this is boring. Say, how about we get back to where we left off, and practice that kissing scene, hm? I think it’s a great idea.”

“Ryomen, let’s not. You know we’re done. Been done. We’re through.”

“You don’t really mean that.”

“Oh, is it not obvious? I think it was pretty obvious when you had the nerve to get with a new girl just days after we broke up. And then you have the balls to call me right after the paparazzi catches you two. Really, Sukuna? I don’t mind the idea of us ending on neutral terms, but . . . 48 hours? Two days after we broke up, and you’re already fucking some girl? Way to go, Sukuna.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself there, baby. We didn’t even kiss, did you see any pictures of us kissing? No. And, besides, it’s called provocation. Honestly, you should be praising me, because it worked in the end, didn’t it? I came ‘crawling back’ like one of your little bitch boys, and what happened? Oh, I remember; you let me right the fuck in to your apartment.”

As much as you hated to admit it, you couldn’t deny Sukuna. He was right. And, just the mere thought of what you two did after he hit you up brought heat to your cheeks.

The very same night after pictures of Sukuna and that new girl started circulating around the internet, Sukuna decided to text you:

hey pretty girl,

you up?

You were drying yourself off with a towel when you received two notifications on your phone, and when you saw the contact name, you frowned and turned off your phone without giving a response. Minutes after, there was a ring on your doorbell, and when you checked the camera, lo and behold, stood none other than the last pink-haired man you wanted to see that evening.

When you opened the door, wearing nothing other than a towel around your still dripping body, Sukuna couldn’t help but shamelessly check you out, deciding then and there that this definitely wasn’t going to be the end of your relationship. Of course, an argument ensued soon after, because that’s what life was like dating a dick like Sukuna. Luckily for you, however, Sukuna’s bulge in his pants was bigger than his ego, and so it made up for all of the playful bullying and teasing remarks that he frequently gave.

Sukuna—because he wasn’t born yesterday—knew his looks and charms fairly well, and often used them as a weapon or bargaining chip. That’s why, after you spent a minute or two berating and yelling at Sukuna near your front door, it only took the man one look into your eyes and one sultry comment to have you both stumbling into the . . . bedroom? No, you two had been apart for two days too long, and just decided to utilize your expensive kitchen counters for purposes completely unrelated to cooking.

The next morning, you two woke up—after getting just half an hour of sleep—and didn’t untangle from each other’s limbs until your manager called you nearly a hundred times, and forced you to get up and attend some interview or something. That, however, was not your last night with Sukuna. You two met up—intentionally or not—within the same week, whether it be at interviews or just random outings, and meddled with the other until one of you would fold (usually Sukuna) and consequently do something you would end up not fully regretting the next morning.

This affair continued until you finally came to your senses and blocked Sukuna out from your life in all ways possible. But, due to his bank account, Sukuna did end up purchasing multiple different phones just to be able to contact you. You may or may not have given in a few times, but in the end, you did end up leaving Sukuna for good.

“Reminiscing, are you? It’s okay, I’ve been doing that every night since you left the penthouse,” Sukuna laughed, noticing the way you went silent. You hated the way he referred to his place as The penthouse, and not, simply, his penthouse because, to be frank, for the years you both spent as a couple, you practically lived together despite having individual residences.

“What the hell, Sukuna. Just—Why are you even—?”

Sukuna cut you off, rolling his eyes. “I find it pretty hard to believe that not a single part of you misses me. Don’t lie; lying is a sin, y’know.”

“Sukuna—Excuse me? Don’t give me that shit. ‘Lying is a sin’ my ass. You must have to ask for God’s forgiveness pretty often, then. I can’t believe you want to call me a sinner, I mean, just—just look at you! You’re no saint, either, and you know that damn well.”

Sukuna raised his hands in defense, humoring you. “Woah, looks like I’ve been caught,” he laughed, before getting a little more serious. “But, don’t try to avoid the fact that you’re not innocent. Okay, we broke up due to not being able to make time for each other, and because of how much women I had to be around. Yeah, I get that. But it’s not like I was the only one taking up PR stunts. You did the same, too, didn’t you? So don’t try and paint me out to be the bad guy, when, at the end of the day, we did the same fucking thing.”

Irritated, you pinched the space between your brows. “I barely have any energy to say something to your stupid face right now. We broke up because of that, but also because of how much of a fucking dick you were and are. I knew you weren’t a total angel when we got together but—”

“Look. Do you want a nice guy?”

“. . .”

“Don’t feel pressured to answer, baby. We all know how you really feel.”

“Go. to. Hell. Sukuna. Seriously. This? Again? Do you even know how much of an ass you are? I should deserve an award for putting up with your shit for so long, God—”

“Yeahh, just keep talking,” said Sukuna in a teasing manner, as he leaned back against the couch, spreading his legs apart. You had never wanted to sit somewhere so bad.

“Are you fucking kidding me—mmph!”

You would’ve continued yelling and cursing Sukuna out for being such a dick had he not roughly pressed his lips against yours, immediately shutting you up. Because you still had some self-respect left, you fought back, throwing weak punches at his chest; but when Sukuna caught your wrists in his hands, you knew it was game over. Your muffled complaints soon turned to whimpers and sighs, as you shut your eyes and let your body do the talking.

Minute after minute, you gradually turned to putty in Sukuna’s hands. Fuck, as much as you hated to admit it, you had truly missed this. The feeling of his large, coarse hands roaming your body, tracing your curves, the feeling of his soft, but unruly hair under your fingertips, but most importantly, the feeling of his lips on yours.

At this point, you couldn’t even remember why the two of you broke up.

“Sukuna,” you murmured, pulling away for a moment to breathe. “We’re not together anymore. We shouldn’t—”

“Shouldn’t?” repeated Sukuna, eager to get back to where you left off. “Are you in a relationship with someone else? Am I in a relationship with someone else? No, and no. So enlighten me, my dear, why should we stop?”

“. . .” It was like he was challenging you, except, this time, it was a battle you could afford to lose. You wanted Sukuna, you really did. But admitting it was the hard part. You chewed on your bottom lip, contemplating every outcome, as Sukuna continued to stare at you with so much desire you could practically feel it.

“Are you hesitating because,” Sukuna paused, “—because you fucked someone else while I was gone?”

You sighed, swallowing the lump in your throat; you had never been more conflicted in your life. Placing your hands on Sukuna’s shoulders, you pushed back until Sukuna was sitting on the couch, and you were sitting on top of him—seated on his lap. As if on instinct, his hands made their way from your hips to the curve of your ass.

Sukuna gripped the globes of fat and muscle with a purpose, and let out an exaggerated groan at the missed feeling of you practically sitting on his dick. You were wearing nothing but a dainty, silky robe, and you clearly didn’t cross it over your chest too well, as Sukuna could see almost everything he had been missing out on during the past few months.

“Don’t even think about lying to me. I can feel you throbbing on my thigh, y’know.”

“. . .And?” You raised a brow; whispering in Sukuna’s ear, “What about it?”

Biting your lip, you let your hands wander up and down Sukuna’s neck, the spot you knew he liked you touching. When you broke things off with Sukuna, you didn’t know you could miss being able to trace his tattoos as bad as you did.

“Oh?” asked Sukuna. But when his fingers wandered up your robe, there was a sudden change in Sukuna’s demeanor, and he sucked in a breath.

“Adorable,” you laughed. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Shit, baby,” Sukuna groaned, “I bet you were expecting me to come and visit your little dressing room, huh. Even planned ahead and gave me a little surprise. Cheeky thing.”

Just seconds earlier, Sukuna’s fingers had been teasingly ghosting where you wanted him most, but when he noticed the lack of underwear you had on, he nearly lost it. You clearly weren’t making it easy for Sukuna to stay composed, he was sure of that much. Despite all of his belittling and teasing remarks, he definitely wasn’t as unaffected as he let himself seem to be.

“We’ve just been apart for so, so long.” You looked into Sukuna’s eyes, a faux pout on your lips as you looped your arms around his neck and pressed your tits up against his chest. “Can you blame me?”

“Fuck, girl,” Sukuna kissed his teeth. “You’re dripping wet. All for me?”

“Who the fuck else?”

Sukuna’s fingers danced around your entrance, collecting your slick as you pressed your thighs together, trapping his hand between your legs (not like he was complaining, though; that was probably the closest to Heaven Sukuna would ever get in his lifetime). “Mmm, that’s what I like to hear.”

It wasn’t a surprise when you pressed your lips against Sukuna’s, bringing him in for another zealous kiss. In an effort to get impossibly closer, your body curved into his, like you were puzzle pieces molded and created just for each other. You two moved in sync, as if you had both rehearsed this before; but, in truth, you two had just made out too many times to count, so kissing Sukuna was basically like breathing air. You needed it to survive, and, it was light work. What more could you say?

The tension and lust between you two grew, and your dressing room soon filled with the sound of sensual desire, moans and quiet gasps, and the creaking of the framework of your unfortunate couch, which had the misfortune of being beneath the two of you.

From the moment you had begun straddling his lap, you had pretended not to notice the growing erection below you; but, by now, it was pretty hard to ignore the bulge pressing against your ass. It was like, during the months you two spent apart, Sukuna’s dick was growing even larger than before. You didn’t remember it being so big. And, just the sight of it was enough to make you lick your lips in fear? Anticipation? . . .Definitely a mix of both.

As Sukuna made a show of removing his belt and pants, he grinned at the evident look of unfamiliarity on your face. “Scared?”

“Of course not,” you quipped, trying to put up a front, but your body betrayed you, displaying otherwise.

“Naturally,” Sukuna mocked, “that’s why I can practically feel your arousal, right?”

You bit your lip, “Shut up.”

Sukuna laughed, pushing the ends of your robe up to rest on your hips, and sliding his hands to your ass, squeezing each cheek with an equal amount of force. Damn, thought Sukuna, he had missed his favorite girls.

“Just because we haven’t done this in a while doesn’t mean you have to be afraid of it. C’mon,” Sukuna slowly repositioned and lowered your hips and spread your legs apart, easing his dick through your cunt, “there’s nothing to be shy about. I know you’ve been missing this.”

It was true, you and Sukuna hadn’t fucked in three whole months, and your body was definitely starting to forget how he felt. The feeling of your walls stretching to accommodate Sukuna’s length and size burned pleasurably, and you bit your lip to stifle a moan, which, in turn, just came out as a whimper instead.

Bracing yourself, you planted both palms on Sukuna’s broad shoulders as your lashes fluttered and your eyes shut tight. “So—nngh—So big, Sukuna. God.”

“Bet you’re real glad you decided to accept this role, after all, huh.”

Your eyes snapped open, and you glared at Sukuna. “Will you just shut—oh!”

Just as you were about to yell at Sukuna, he decided it was the absolute perfect time to give a rough thrust; and you could’ve sworn you felt him in your womb. Throughout all the years you two had been together, you rarely had the opportunity to actually sit on his dick, and, now that you had the chance, you realized how full you felt in this position compared to how you two usually fucked. Sukuna knew you liked it rough, but this . . . was like nothing you had experienced before.

Sukuna—laughing—leaned down just enough to whisper in your ear, “You were saying?”

“Fuck,” you gritted your teeth. “Just move, Sukuna, goddamnit. What’s the holdup? Don’t tell me the late twenties are catching up to your libido.”

“Ha! in your dreams. I was just thinking of a new way we could have fun. Let’s see, just how long can you go without moving, hm?”

You gulped. “W-What? Why would you—?”

“Because it’s exciting, and spices up things. Don’t you think so?”

“. . .”

As the minutes idly passed by, you grew hot and bothered, and exasperated. You couldn’t believe Sukuna was making you do this. Nearly ninety days you two spent apart, and now that you had gotten back together, he had the audacity to leave you high and dry? In a final attempt at getting any satisfaction, you moved to roll your hips, desperate to create any amount of friction to free you from this everlasting state between Heaven and Hell; but two rough hands abruptly caught you in motion, and swiftly held you down.

“Ah, ah, ah,” tutted Sukuna, in a mocking tone. “Did I say you could move?”

Clearly frustrated, you let out a whine; but as your hands move to give punches against Sukuna’s chest, he catches your wrists in his hands with ease, an evil smile on his face, like a predator that had successfully cornered their prey and was just seconds away from latching their teeth in.

The belt was already pretty loose, so when one of the sleeves on your robe slipped down your shoulder, revealing your bare chest, no one was that surprised.

“Oh?” Sukuna began. “What have we here?” His scarlet eyes roamed up and down your figure, as his grip on your wrists turned almost deathly.

“You . . . bastard,” you—suddenly feeling a bit shy—tried to tug your wrists out of his grasps, in order to cover yourself up, but your attempts were futile. “Let go of me—hnngh, shit.”

Your back arched, body curving closer to Sukuna’s as his lips abruptly wrapped around one of your already hard nipples, catching you off guard. You had never felt so overwhelmed; the feeling of Sukuna sucking on a tit while his dick was buried inside of you—unmoving—was nearly enough to make you cum, despite the lack of movement that Sukuna allowed.

Bringing you out of your dazed state was the sudden ringing of your phone on the table beside the ashtray. Your eyes widened in surprise, as you softly pushed Sukuna off of you. “Just—Just ignore it. It’s not important.”

“Right. But where’s the fun in that, huh?”

“You don’t mean. . .”

“You know what I mean. Answer it, on speaker,” Sukuna pressed. His tone told you he wasn’t going to repeat himself.

With shaky fingers, you reached for the phone, answered the caller, and put it on speaker. “H-Hello? Katayama?”

Katayama was the name of one of your co-stars. Or, in other words, the blonde dude, which Sukuna kept mentioning earlier.

“Hey, you! It’s pretty late right now, perfect time for us to go out and get some drinks, y’know? I’m a bit bored, as of lately.”

You were about to respond with an apologetic declination to his offer, but Sukuna cut you off as he roughly lifted up your hips and abruptly slammed them back down, causing you to choke back a moan, and cover it up with a faux series of coughs. “I’m, ah, a little . . . busy,” you whimpered, wincing at the tight grip on your hips—which was sure to leave a bruise in the morning, “right now.”

“Are you sick?”

“Uhm, no—I mean, yes!” You let out another fake cough just to seal the deal. “Yup, just a little under the weather.”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a string of moans and curses as Sukuna continued slamming your hips up and down onto his.

“Well, if you’re ever in need of an extra warm blanket, don’t be afraid to—”

“Hahh.” A breathy moan slipped past your lips, and you could practically see the surprised look that was probably on Katayama’s face right now.

“—call . . . me. Uhm, are you sure you’re sick? You sound like you’re in the middle of . . . something. Is everything okay—?”

“Yup! Yeah, everything is totally okay,” you forced out, with an enthusiastic tone. Gripping Sukuna’s shoulder with your free hand for leverage, you shut your eyes tight as you quickly ended the call. “I’m a little occupied at the moment, I’ll call you ba—I’m gonna go. Bye!”

As swiftly as you hung up the call, you threw your phone across the couch, and let out all of the noises you had been previously bottling up.

“I’m so c-close.” You mewled, now even more desperate than you were before.

“If you dare cum,” Sukuna began, his voice low, “I’ll stop.”

“Sukuna!” You whined, scratching at his back and leaving little crescent shaped marks from your nails on his tricep. “I need to—ahnn!”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you held onto Sukuna’s shoulders for dear life as he quickened his pace. Lifting your hips up with ease, and slamming them back down with equal force. Fucked out of your mind was not enough to describe your current state, as your eyes rolled back into your head, and your lipstick was smudged across your mouth.

Sukuna leaned down to whisper into your ear, never stopping his movements. “Bet the little blondie didn’t fuck you like this, huh?”

It was obvious that Sukuna wasn’t an insecure guy; I mean, he had no reason to be. He had nice muscles, a good body, overall, sharp features, tempting eyes, and tattoos for days. But, you had to admit, the spark of jealousy was definitely a good look on Sukuna, one that you wouldn’t mind seeing every once in a while, if it meant seeing him like . . . this.

“. . .S-Sukuna, we never—we never even fucked in the first place.”

“Oh, yeah? How long you been without cock, then, huh? Must be why you’ve been acting like such a bitch. I almost feel bad; all this time, my baby’s just been depraved.”

“. . .F-fuck you,” you shivered, body practically shaking with need.

“No need to state the obvious, sweetheart. Fuck, even your tears taste sweet,” Sukuna groaned, licking a stripe up your cheek. “It’s as if you were literally made for me to devour.”

“Please, please let me cum! I’m so—hnngh—close.”

“Yeah, no. C’mon, I know my girl can last just a little longer, can’t you?” Sukuna grinned, biting his lip as he admired your dazed state. He hadn’t been able to touch you in three months, ninety days, 504 hours. If anyone was going to get their fill, it was him.

—

“Oh!” Your stylist exclaimed, after walking into your dressing room and noticing you lying asleep on the couch. “You’re already here. And, Sukuna’s here, too. Wait. . . SUKUNA’S HERE, TOO!?”

[itneverendshere]

saw that jj is readers neighbor. and i see rafe absolutely hating him, until he realizes that you take care of him like he’s your baby brother, especially when things get a little rough at his house

omg yesssss! it's kinda funny that he's beefing with a teenager. thank you for the request! 🩵🫂 alsojj never met milo before bc he only showed up after the kid was already sleeping, cause luke had a tendency to get rowdier at night 😣.

you're on your own kid - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

There’s no way in hell JJ Maybank is sitting on your couch while you’re cooking away. 

Rafe swears he’s lost his mind. Maybe he hit his head harder than he thought when he was out on the boat earlier because what he’s seeing doesn’t make any sense.

There’s no way JJ is sitting there, his legs propped up on your coffee table like he owns the place. Like he belongs here. In your place. Your sister's place.

For a second, he thinks he’s gotta be dreaming. But nope, it’s real. The smell of whatever you’re cooking from the kitchen hits him in the face, and JJ’s laughter echoes through the living room.

This is your house, your space, and somehow JJ’s sitting there like he’s been here a thousand times before. He’s gotta say something.

Rafe clears his throat, trying to keep his voice normal but it comes out tight, strained. “What the hell’s Maybank doing here?”

You don’t even look up from the stove, just wave a hand in his direction, like it’s no big deal.

Like he’s no big deal. “Relax, baby. He’s just having dinner.”

“Dinner?” Rafe practically chokes on the word.

JJ catches the look on his face and smirks, leaning back further into the couch cushions.

“What, never seen a guy eat before, Cameron?”

Rafe scoffs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Dinner? At your place? Since when are you and Maybank this close?”

His eyes narrow on JJ, sprawled out on the couch like he’s got nowhere better to be. The guy’s even wearing his boots, dirt probably all over your cushions, and Rafe’s practically grinding his teeth at the sight.

JJ just smirks, because of course he does. “Jealous or somethin’, Cameron? Didn’t think you’d care.”

But then you walk over with a plate and set it down in front of JJ, and Rafe watches in shock as you ruffle his hair, so casually it’s like second nature to you.

Like you’ve done it a hundred times before.

JJ’s eating like it’s the first meal he’s had in days, and Rafe’s brain is still trying to catch up with what the hell is happening here.

You and JJ? Since when? Rafe’s stomach twists at the thought, because why would you even care about a guy like JJ? 

The guy’s got that scruffy look, bruises on his knuckles and faint ones on his arms. Rafe’s seen it before, the evidence of fights and bad nights. He knows what goes on at JJ’s house. He’s heard the stories. The arguments that spill out onto the streets late at night, the way JJ disappears for a while and comes back worse than before.

And then it hits him.

You’re not just letting him crash here.

You’re taking care of him. Looking out for him in ways that nobody else does, making sure he doesn’t completely spiral with a father like Luke Maybank.

JJ speaks up, grinning with his mouth full of food. “Her food’s so good, you gotta try it.”

“I’m her boyfriend, you think I haven’t tried her cooking?”

He’s being ridiculous, knows he’s not really jealous of a seventeen-year-old. It’s not that he’s threatened by JJ—hell no. It’s more that...he doesn’t like sharing you. Even if it’s just dinner.

He’s proud of you, though. Always has been. That big heart of yours, helping out some kid who clearly needs it.

Rafe crosses his arms, leaning against the doorway. “Since when did my girl become a goddamn soup kitchen?” The words come out harsher than he means them to, but you just glance over your shoulder and roll your eyes.

You know him too well by now.

“Baby, it’s just dinner. JJ’s had a rough day.”

“Yeah, well, so have I,” Rafe mutters under his breath, but he doesn’t push it. He can’t really. 

He knows the guys has been through it, and yeah, his dad’s a piece of work. But that doesn’t make it easier to see him sitting here, all cozy in the life Rafe’s tried to build with you. Yeah, maybe you fucking spoiled him because know the mere thought of another guy being in your space makes his blood boil. 

JJ wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, “Chill, Cameron. You’re acting like I’m movin’ in or something.”

He remembers being that kid—lost, angry, with no place to feel safe. JJ might be annoying as fuck, a walking nightmare to be around, but Rafe can’t hate him for that. Not really.

“Yeah, well, don’t get too comfortable,” Rafe mutters. He looks at you, softening. “You’ve got a heart too big for your own good, y'know that?”

“I thought you loved that about me?” You tease, turning back to the stove.

“’Course I do.” Rafe crosses the room, sitting on the arm of the couch, close enough to you but still keeping an eye on JJ. He watches as you stir something on the stove, a soft smile pulling at the corner of his mouth despite everything. Yeah, he gets annoyed, but fuck if he doesn’t love you for exactly this. You just have a way of making people feel safe, even the ones that don’t deserve it—or maybe need it most.

JJ leans back, letting out a satisfied groan. "God, that was good. She ever cook like this for you, Cameron?"

Rafe shoots him a look, eyebrows raised. "Yeah, maybe when you’re not eating all my food."

JJ just laughs, completely unfazed. “You’re lucky, man.”

Rafe doesn't answer, just stares at him, half of him wanting to tell him to get out and the other half knowing how good it must feel for the kid to have a moment where he doesn’t have to worry about anything. Rafe’s been there—different situation, same lost feeling. He looks at you again, knowing it’s you that pulled him out of that place. And now here you are, doing the same thing for JJ.

With a sigh, he slides off the couch and walks over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. “You know you’re too good for him, right?”

You laugh, leaning back into him. “For him? Or for you?”

Rafe presses a kiss to your shoulder, smiling despite himself. “Both. Definitely both.”

His lips linger there for another second before JJ’s speaking again, “Alright, y’all don’t have to be disgusting while I’m sitting here trying to digest. Seriously, have some respect. I’m a guest.”

Rafe’s jaw tightens, but he can’t help but laugh under his breath, his forehead dropping against your back. “You gotta be kidding me.” He sighs dramatically, loosening his grip on you and stepping back, but he’s still got that smirk. “You hear that, baby? We’re offending the guest. Can’t have that.”

JJ rolls his eyes so hard Rafe’s sure he’s gonna get stuck that way. “Yeah, you two keep it up, and I’m gonna lose this amazing meal you just made. Not trying to see all that lovey-dovey shit.”

Rafe leans against the counter, arms crossed, shaking his head. “You know, most people would be grateful for a free dinner.”

You toss a dish towel at JJ, which he dodges with a snicker. “You’re welcome to leave, you know.”

“Nah, nah,” JJ says quickly, stuffing the bread in his mouth. “I’m good right here.”  He stretches out again, clearly getting way too comfortable. “But if y’all could just tone down the romance while I’m around, that’d be great.”

Rafe’s still grinning, even though part of him wants to wipe that smirk right off JJ’s face. “You jealous, Maybank?”

JJ gives an exaggerated shrug. “Nah. I got my priorities straight.”

“Yeah? Like what? Getting on my last fucking nerve?” Rafe shoots back.

JJ lifts his hands in surrender, still grinning like a kid who knows exactly how make him lose his temper. “Hey, I’m just saying. Don’t go making me regret this free meal, alright?”

He glances over at you, and you’re shaking your head, smiling like this whole thing is the most entertaining show you’ve seen all week.

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” Rafe mutters, still eyeing JJ. “This is a one-time thing.”

JJ chuckles, unfazed. “Whatever helps you sleep at night. Just remember, I’m your girl’s favorite.” He flashes you a wink, and Rafe’s this close to tossing the bread basket at his head and tossing him out on the street.

JJ’s annoying, no doubt, but he understand, or at least he's trying to, that you’re doing it for a reason—helping the kid out, making sure he’s got a safe place for at least one night. And no matter how much he pisses him off, Rafe respects that. For your sake.

“You keep running your mouth and you’re both sleeping porch.”

Rafe turns to you, offended, “The fuck did I do?”

“You know exactly what you did,” you say, shaking your head. “Always making things competitive.”

Rafe scoffs, standing a little straighter.

“Competitive? Baby, I’m just protecting what’s mine.” He throws a glance at JJ, who’s still lounging on the couch like he owns the place.

“Man, protectin’ what?” JJ pipes up, laughing through his words. “I’m just here for the food and the show.” He gestures between the two of you. “Y’all could make a fortune if you charged admission. People love drama.”

Rafe rolls his eyes. “You’re lucky they’re not charging you rent at this point.”

He’s about to tell him to shove off the couch and leave, but the front door swings open. Monica walks in arms full of grocery bags. Little Milo is trailing behind her, clutching a stuffed dinosaur in one hand and a juice box in the other. The moment he sees Rafe, his face lights up.

“Uncle Rafey!” Milo yells, charging toward him with all the energy of a four-year-old hyped up on apple juice.

He bends down and scoops Milo up, setting him on his hip. “Hey kid. What’s up?”

Milo grins and holds up his juice box. “I got juice!”

Rafe chuckles, “Juice, huh? Sounds like a big day.”

Meanwhile, Monica’s busy setting the groceries on the counter, glancing at JJ sprawled out on the couch. She shoots Rafe a look, half-exasperated, half-amused. “Looks like we have an extra child in the house today.”

JJ, clearly not catching the jab, raises a hand. “Hey, Monica. I’m just keeping the couch warm.”

Milo tugs on Rafe’s shirt, completely oblivious to the grown-up talk. “Uncle Rafe, can I have a cookie?”

“Maybe after dinner, bud,” Rafe says, setting him down gently. “Go help your mom, okay?”

Milo pouts for a second but quickly gets distracted by the sight of JJ. He stares at him curiously, tilting his head. “Who’s that?”

JJ leans over the back of the couch, grinning. “I’m JJ. You can call me… your favorite new friend.”

Milo looks at him like he’s deciding if JJ is cool or just weird. After a second, he grins back. “Okay, JJ. Can I sit with you?”

“Sure, kid. Hop on up.”

Rafe watches as Milo clambers onto the couch next to JJ, giggling when JJ pretends to steal his dinosaur. It’s almost funny—if he wasn’t so good at making himself at home.

Monica, catching the scene, sighs and shakes her head. “Great, now he’s corrupted Milo.”

Rafe crosses his arms, unable to suppress a smirk. “He’s already got enough bad influences in his life.”

She raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Yeah, starting with you.”

Rafe raises his hands in surrender, laughing. “Fair enough.”

You’re leaning against the counter, watching the whole scene unfold, and suddenly, it just hits you.

Rafe with Milo, the way he softens when your nephew runs up to him, lifting him like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Milo’s giggles fill the room and then there’s Monica, half-smiling at Rafe’s attempts to wrangle Milo, even with JJ sprawled out on the couch, egging the kid on.

Your heart feels so full, you almost can’t stand it. It’s one of those moments where everything just… clicks. You try to keep it together, but there’s this warm feeling in your chest, and you blink back the unexpected tears. How could you feel anything but love for all of them in this moment? 

Rafe catches you staring, his eyes softening when he sees the look on your face. He raises an eyebrow, but he’s already smiling at you, “What’s that look for?”

You shake your head, grinning despite the lump in your throat. “Nothing. Just... you guys. It’s... a lot.”

JJ, ever the clown, groans from the couch, “Oh God, please don’t get all mushy now."

But you can’t help it. You step closer to Rafe, wrapping your arms around his waist, laying your head against his chest. “I just love you. All of you.”

Rafe chuckles softly, kissing the top of your head. “Love you too.”

Monica glances over with a knowing look, shaking her head. “Alright, enough of this sentimental stuff. You’re gonna make me cry, and I just got home.”

You stay wrapped in Rafe’s arms for a moment, just soaking in the warmth around you. Monica’s pulling plates from the cabinet, setting them on the table with her usual no-nonsense efficiency. JJ’s somehow got Milo giggling uncontrollably, making goofy faces and pretending to steal his dinosaur every few seconds. The kid’s losing it, practically bouncing off the couch in fits of laughter.

Rafe leans down, his lips close to your ear. “You’re okay?” he murmurs against your hair.

You smile, nodding against his chest. “Yeah. Better than good, actually.”

He pulls back slightly to look at you, his blue eyes scanning your face like he’s trying to read every thought behind it. “You sure? You looked like you were about to cry a second ago.”

You laugh a little, wiping under your eye, even though the tears never really fell. “It’s just... this. All of this. It’s perfect, you know? I don’t know. It feels like family.”

“You really think so?” Rafe asks quietly.

You nod, feeling that same warmth flood your chest again. “Yeah, I do. I love it. I love us.”

He smiles, a little crooked but real, the kind of smile you don’t see too often, but when you do, it hits you in the heart. “I love us too.”

For a second, the noise around you fades, and it’s just you and Rafe, holding onto each other like you’re the only two people in the room.

Then, predictably, JJ ruins it. “Hey, lovebirds! Save that for later. You’re killing Milo’s vibe.”

You both turn to see JJ standing with his hands on his hips, looking dramatic as ever. Milo’s grinning, clutching his dinosaur to his chest like it’s his new best friend. 

“Yeah, stop kissin'!” Milo chimes in, giggling.

You rolls your eyes but pull away from Rafe with a chuckle. “Alright, alright. No more kissing.”

Monica smirks as she finishes setting the last plate. “Don’t worry, Milo. They’ll be gross later when you’re in bed.”

Rafe gives your sister a mock glare. “You’re hilarious.”

She pats him on the back, grinning. “It’s what I’m here for.”

[fastandcarlos]

Dating A-Z Headcanon : ̗̀➛ Oscar Piastri

A ⇴ AFFECTION 

Oscar isn’t overly affectionate, but he does like to have you close. Quite often he can be found holding onto your hand or to your waist to make sure that you’re by his side and where he can make sure that you’re safe. 

B ⇴ BEFORE DATING 

You first met when you were in school, having been paired together for a project. At the start of it you were both too terrified to even say anything to each other, but as you got to know each other more you found yourselves increasingly comfortable around one another, so much so that you even managed to come top of your class for your presentation together. 

C ⇴ CONFESSION 

When his career began to take off, Oscar knew that he couldn’t deny his feelings for you any longer. As he spent less time at home, and with you, he decided to tell you how he felt so you knew that he was thinking of you even when he wasn’t with you. One night before he went away for a race Oscar decided to tell you everything, opening up to you about exactly how happy you made him feel. 

D ⇴ DATES 

Most of the time your dates were quite private, Oscar wasn’t exactly the flashy type, especially when there were plenty of people around. He liked to keep your dates quite simple, usually you would go out for a nice meal or Oscar would arrange for you to do something at home together. He promised whenever he was home that he would organise at least one date for you both before he had to go away again so that he could make sure that you got to spend some quality time together and make some new memories. 

E ⇴ EXPERIENCE 

You were the only ever person that Oscar had dated, and so he quite often felt like he was learning on the job. You and Oscar knew each other incredibly well and so Oscar didn’t really tend to worry that he was doing the wrong thing. At times he would ask other people around him for some tips and advice when he wasn’t sure if he was doing the right thing, but you and Oscar were close and so if he felt as if he was doing something wrong, usually he’d open up to you and learn about what it was that you wanted from him instead. 

F ⇴ FIGHTING 

An argument between you guys is rare, you’ve got a good understanding of each other and know when to stop before things run away. Neither of you were particularly loud or argumentative at the best of times and so it was a pretty rare thing to happen. When an argument did happen, Oscar would get pretty cut up about it, he hated the idea that he had upset you and would work hard to make things up to you, particularly if he knew that he was the one at fault for your argument. 

G ⇴ GETTING TO KNOW HIS FAMILY 

His family absolutely adored you; you were a tad nervous to meet his family, particularly with his three younger siblings, but they absolutely adored you. Above all else, you loved making fun of him with his mum, particularly on social media where all of Oscar’s fans could get behind the two of you as well. 

H ⇴ HOME 

Wherever Oscar went, you went, when it came to home. When he originally considered moving out to Monaco he spoke to you about it a lot, wanting to make sure that it was something you wanted to do as well. When you gave him the greenlight, Oscar started to look at making the move, relieved to know you’d be going together. 

I ⇴ “I LOVE YOU” 

He was the first one to say those three words after a race win. It was one that Oscar had fought particularly hard for and found himself overwhelmed at the end of it. As adrenaline ran through his body, the moment Oscar reunited with you those words came tumbling out before he even had a chance to realise what he was saying to you. 

J ⇴ JEALOUSY 

It was quite rare for Oscar to get jealous; he was pretty relaxed and chill about most things and trusted you more than he trusted anyone. If he ever did get jealous, then Oscar would get a little bit more protective around you, he’d stand a little closer and make sure that he was listening to what people were saying to you. He’d never admit it, but you could tell from the look in his eyes sometimes that Oscar was feeling a little envious. 

K ⇴ KIDS 

Having a family was something that you both knew was quite a way off, but that didn’t stop you from talking about it from time to time. Oscar especially knew that you were the person that he was going to settle down with and spend his future with, although he still had plenty that he wanted to achieve when it came to his career before he even started thinking about all those other things in life. 

L ⇴ LAUGHTER 

If there was one sound that Oscar never got bored of hearing, it was definitely your laughter. His deadpan sense of humour could leave you in stitches sometimes with how nonchalant Oscar was about things. He didn’t even mean to make you laugh most of the time, but with his dry jokes and blunt comments you couldn’t help but chuckle around him. Oscar loved knowing that he was the reason for the smile on your face, even if he didn’t realise that he was the reason for it sometimes. 

M ⇴ MISSING 

He tried his best to hide it well, he didn’t like upsetting you by telling you just how much he missed you. But Oscar did miss you. Terribly. He was a different person in the paddock when you weren’t around, he was quieter than usual and would be a bit more distant in meetings, something that Lando picked up on quite a lot during their race weekends together.  He was constantly wishing that you were there with him, checking his phone all the time to see if he had a text or a missed call from you.  

N ⇴ NICKNAMES 

He didn’t have one particular nickname for you, Oscar would just call you whatever came to mind, usually choosing a nickname that he knew would annoy you as he loved being able to wind you up. 

O ⇴ OBSESSION 

Oscar was obsessed with your smile, it made him feel like he was home. His heart raced whenever he saw your wide grin, knowing you were happy was the most important thing to him. 

P ⇴ PDA 

The two of you weren’t huge on PDA, however everyone knew that the two of you were together from the little gestures that you shared. Oscar tended to hold your hand and keep you by his side, particularly when you were entering a busy area, wanting to keep you by his side and out of harm. 

Q ⇴ QUESTIONS 

He asked you for your advice on just about anything, Oscar would ask you for help whenever something was playing on his mind, knowing that you usually had the right answer to help him out. 

R ⇴ RANDOM FACTS 

One thing that no one knew about Oscar was that in the bottom of his race car he had a picture of you. It was positioned so that no one else could see it aside from him, but when he needed a bit of a boost or to see a reminder of you, Oscar would glance down at it. He’d made sure to pick one of his favourite photos of you so that he could remember why he raced, particularly when he was missing you. 

S ⇴ SEX 

He liked to take control when it came to sex, Oscar wasn’t particularly rough, but he was the more dominant out of the two of you. It meant a lot to Oscar, he made sure that each time was special and filled with a lot of love. He quite liked being able to show you how much he loved you, words weren’t particularly a strong skill of Oscar’s and so he loved being able to show you with actions instead. 

T ⇴ TEXTS 

Whenever he could Oscar would text you, especially when he wasn’t at home. He loved receiving your updates and hearing from you, mostly so that he knew that you were safe without him around. 

U ⇴ UNIVERSE 

He didn’t like to make it too well known, but Oscar’s little bubble knew exactly just how much you meant to him, you were his priority and by far the most important person in his life. 

V ⇴ VACATION 

Whenever he had a bit of time Oscar loved to arrange trips for the two of you so that you could escape for a while. Adventuring with you was by far one of Oscar’s favourite things to do, although he saw much of the world, there were always more hidden gems around for you to see too. 

W ⇴ WHINING 

Although he wasn’t particularly needy, when Oscar wanted your attention, he would kick up quite the fuss to make sure that you knew all about it. 

X ⇴ XXXXX 

He loved kissing you when you least expected it, creeping up on you and pressing a kiss to your cheek or against the top of your head. He wasn’t the biggest kisser in the world and so Oscar knew that when he did kiss you it would usually come as a surprise. He didn’t like to just kiss you, he loved kissing you with sentiment and love, knowing that his kisses would often leave you feeling nervous with adrenaline. 

Y ⇴ YOU 

You were his team mate, the two of you were the perfect duo together. 

Z ⇴ ZZZ 

When he falls asleep, Oscar loves to hold onto you. His grip is as tight as possible wanting to keep you warm and make sure that you’re right by his side and not going anywhere. 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[queen-of-reptiles]

𝚂𝙸𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁

𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙴𝙴

description: in which lucy bronze's younger sister can no longer hide her relationship. And honestly ... she doesn't want to.

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mapi leon x bronze!reader

part one here

part two here

part three of the 'hidden' universe - mapi's version

ona batlle x putellas!reader here

disclaimer: this is all fiction do not take any of this seriously !

warnings: swearing, mentions of previous assault, FLUFF, cuteness, social media frenzies ;)

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As the game came to an end, Lucy didn't even shake hands, the woman instead rushing off to find her sister, Keira apologising to everyone before following also, Ona not far behind.

Keira and Ona hung back for a moment, whispering together that Lucy probably needed to talk to Mapi and y/n alone.

y/n had been checked for a concussion, it turning out she had a minor one and some pretty severe bruising, but other than that, she seemed fine.

y/n was still a little shaken up, finding peace in laying in Mapi's arms and being tucked into her neck and collarbone. She smelt familiar, her arms were safe.

Mapi was running her hand through y/n's hair, whispering calming Spanish as they lied tangled together. The door slowly opened and y/n didn't need to look to know who it was.

"I really don't wanna fucking do this right now Luce." y/n says quietly, eyes still shut and Mapi continued watching her.

"I don't wanna argue." Lucy denies. "I just want to know my baby sister is okay." She continues and y/n sighs, pushing up from Mapi's chest, the blonde's hands falling to her lap, which y/n takes in her own.

"I'm okay, a minor concussion and some bruising, but everything's fine." y/n shrugs and Lucy sighs.

"Okay." She nods. Mapi looks between the two and sighs, sliding off the bed and pressing a kiss to y/n's cheek.

"I will be back." Mapi promises, before she and Lucy share a nod and Mapi walks out.

Lucy then clears her throat, watching as her sister suddenly becomes very interested in the bed sheet she had laid over her lap.

Lucy sighs and moves toward her sister, the girl naturally flinching before reminding herself where she was and who she was with.

Lucy's eyes sadden slightly and she slowly sits down on the side of the bed, her sister still looking away from her out of fear of another argument or more tears.

"Can you look at me?" Lucy asks softly, her sister gulping softly before looking up at her sister, eyes shining with unshed tears. "Oh kiddo." Lucy sighs.

The two seemed to move in sync as Lucy pushed herself to lay against the pillows, y/n instantly cuddling into her and letting out a sad cry.

Lucy held her younger sister, blinking back tears as she pressed kisses to the girl's head. Lucy whispered calming words to her sister who continued to cry in her arms.

"I've got you kid." Lucy promises as y/n calmed herself, tears not stopping but her sobs doing so.

"I don't like fighting with you. I don't like not talking to you. It felt wrong." y/n says, her voice shaky and a little hoarse from all the crying.

She pulled away from Lucy, reaching over to grab a tissue and wipe away any more tears which were on her face.

"I don't like fighting with you either." Lucy promises. "And I am sorry that I lost my temper, I shouldn't have done so." She promises.

"I shouldn't have lied about Mapi." y/n denies.

"Well, with the way I reacted, I can see why you did." Lucy chuckles dryly.

y/n sighs running a hand over her face as she shakes her head. Wanting to explain the entire situation without crying for once.

"I wanted to tell you, I did, but I know how protective you are and I didn't want to throw the team out of balance with something that could have been avoided." y/n begins.

Lucy stops, her eyes watching her younger sister as she tried to explain. Lucy watched with kind eyes, and open ears, something which her sister was relieved for.

"And I was going to tell you sooner, but then it was so blissful, just us two, no one else. And then before I knew it Alexia knew, Keira knew, and the next thing is you knew." y/n says.

"And I flip out and storm off." Lucy sighs.

"But I know why, I understand why. I lied to you for months, I'm dating someone older, and someone I work with. And I didn't once tell you." y/n says.

"It still didn't give me the right to get so angry, and I'm sorry kid, I shouldn't have shouted." Lucy says. "And you're not a kid anymore, and I need to accept that." She adds.

"But I'm still your little sister. And I love you." y/n says and Lucy chuckles, bringing her little sister in for a hug.

"You'll always be my little sister. And I love you too." Lucy promises.

y/n could have cried again, which she didn't want, with how relieved she was. Fighting with her sister ripped a part from her and left a hole in it's place.

"I can't say I won't worry about you in this relationship, but you are grown enough to look after yourself." Lucy promises herself.

"I don't have to look after me. Mapi does it for me." y/n admits and Lucy sighs.

"You love her?" Lucy asks, the two sisters not noticing the slowly opening door.

"With all of me." y/n nods. "She makes me feel safe, she makes me feel loved and she sees me." y/n continues and Lucy can't help but feel her shoulders relax at the knowledge her sister was happy.

"And she loves you?" Lucy asks.

"She is everything to me Lucia, and she will continue to be." Mapi says, the Bronze sisters looking over to the dirty blonde who was leaning against the door.

y/n smiled softly as Lucy stood up, walking over to Mapi where she held out her own hand.

"I'm sorry for loosing my shit Maps mate." Lucy says and Mapi rolls her eyes, bringing the woman in for a hug.

"I understand your feeling and the shouting - she is your sister." Mapi says as they pull away.

"You hurt her though Leon, and I will kill you." Lucy threatens despite y/n letting out an annoyed shout.

"Trust me Bronze, if I hurt her, I'll let you." Mapi promises and Lucy nods happily.

"Glad you're feeling better pipsqueak." Lucy tells her sister, leaning over to press a kiss to y/n's forehead. "We will have dinner tomorrow night, all of us." Lucy says and y/n grins and nods.

"Okay." y/n smiles before Lucy shares a smile with Mapi and then leaves the room. Mapi pauses looking at y/n as the girl let out a massive sigh.

"We are okay?" She asks y/n.

"Yeah, we are okay." y/n nods and Mapi smiles, moving over and pressing her lips softly against y/n's lips.

"Oh and the internet is going crazy over us." Mapi says and y/n chuckles.

"Nothing has been confirmed." y/n denies and Mapi shrugs.

"Not yet." She chuckles. y/n can't help but roll her eyes but smiles as she presses her lips against Mapi's.

"Not yet." y/n echoes.

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y/n just posted on her story

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twitter/ X:

username1: SO glad y/n is okay!

username2: I am so relieved y/n is okay - but now can we talk about her and Mapi????

^

username3: Can we talk about the fact y/n was attacked????

^

username4: I agree! There are more important things than if Mapi and y/n are dating?!

username5: y/n's new story holy shit!!!

username6: Mapi and y/n have to be together? And that is so cute!

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lucybronze just posted on her story

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y/n and Mapi both chuckled at the way twitter was going crazy of the two of them. Lucy's story basically confirming everything which had sent them all into a frenzy.

The two footballers were curled up on the sofa, y/n's head tucked into Mapi's neck as Bagheera stretched out over their laps, purring happily at the pets she was receiving.

y/n looked over at the TV, watching Strictly with a small smile, the Spaniard letting her watch whatever she wanted to keep her happy after her eventful day.

"Are you okay Amor?" Mapi asks y/n softly, the woman nodding.

"Yeah, just, I was scared today, his grip was so strong and I just didn't think I would get away." y/n admits softly, Mapi's arms tightening around her lover as she presses a kiss to her forehead.

"The guards were ridiculous! They should have acted quicker." Mapi hisses. "Todos deberían perder sus trabajos." She adds and y/n sighs.

They should all lose their jobs.

y/n presses a kiss to Mapi's cheek, closing her eyes briefly in relief of being home and warm with her love, not out on the cold pitch, hands in her hair, fear not the only thing gripping her to immobility.

"Se acabó mi amor, estoy contigo, eso es lo único que importa." y/n says softly

It is over my love, I'm with you, that is all that matters.

Mapi looks down at y/n, pressing her lips against her lover's and putting the love into her kiss, keeping it gentle as Bagheera huffs and jumps from the two, sitting on the other sofa.

"I love you." Mapi says as they pull away.

"I love you too." y/n smiles, snuggling back into Mapi's shoulder as she watches Diane spin.

"So, shall we go insta viral?" Mapi asks and y/n laughs as she leans over and grabs their phones.

"Lets just remember to put them on do not disturb." y/n giggles, texting her sister quickly to do the same. Because if they couldn't get through to her they would get through to Lucy.

Lucy thanked her and wished the two luck with the crazy fans sure to flood their comments as Mapi and y/n flicked through their potential photos, giggling at the phones they wouldn't use.

Once they had picked the photos, the two posted to Instagram, trying to control the answer with disabling comments, though it didn't work as twitter quickly set alight.

The two quickly switched their phones off, shrieking as they slid their phones away from them, sharing amused looks as they settled back to continue watching.

"Well, at least your sister didn't find out this way!" Mapi says and y/n bursts out laughing, making the Spanish woman grin.

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marialeonn16 just posted

Liked by keirawalsh, lucybronze and 268, 111 others

tagged: y/n

marialeonn16: Mi Amor <3

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y/n just posted

Liked by marialeonn16, lucybronze, and 389, 888 others

tagged: marialeonn16

y/n: MY love :) Thank you for all your well wishes.

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END OF PART THREE

thank you for all the love on these, enjoyed them so much! xx

[2amriize]

˚⟡˖ when they say something really hurtful and then try to make it up - RIIZE

ᡣ𐭩 masterlist genre angst pairing bf!riize x reader

ᯓ★ SHOTARO

"You're completely useless."

You never thought you would hear such harsh and painful words coming from Shotaro. Though you tried to say something, the words wouldn’t come out as a lump formed in your throat. Shotaro's expression changed instantly, filled with regret for what he had said. Without hesitation, he moved closer and wrapped his arms around you, apologizing repeatedly. You stood still, still processing what you had heard.

"Forget what I said, please. I don’t think that at all, Y/n," he said, holding your arms and looking at you, his lips trembling slightly as he spoke. "Please, please forgive me... I don't want you to hate me. I was so stupid to say that... You know how much I need you in my life."

ᯓ★ EUNSEOK

"You're pathetic."

Those words hurt more than anything else in the conversation. With nothing left to say, you stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind you. Eunseok instantly felt bad, sitting down on the bed with his head in his hands, replaying the words in his head and regretting them deeply. You spent the night on the couch, not wanting to be near him.

The next morning, he came to you, sitting beside you on the couch and trying to take your hand, but you pulled it away, glaring at him. "I know I can’t take back what I said, but I want you to know I deeply regret it," he said after a pause. "I was frustrated, and I took it out on you, but I love everything about you. Please forgive me."

ᯓ★ SUNGCHAN

"I don’t even care about you anymore."

You had been arguing the entire drive home, but his words left you in stunned silence. Realizing what he had said, Sungchan glanced at you with regret, his grip on the steering wheel tightening.

"Y/n, I didn’t mean to…"

"Stop the car," you demanded coldly, and Sungchan obeyed immediately. You quickly got out, not wanting to be around him after his hurtful words. Sungchan, panicking, found a place to park and hurried out to follow you, not wanting you to walk alone at night.

"Baby, wait. I don’t know why I said that. I’m so sorry," he admitted, catching up and standing in front of you so you’d look at him. "It’s not true. You’re the most important person in my life. I just… I’m scared of losing you, and I was angry, and… and I’m stupid. Can you forgive me?"

ᯓ★ WONBIN

"You're the reason nothing ever works out for me."

Wonbin's words left you speechless, staring at him silently as a lump formed in your throat. The argument had started over something trivial, so you never expected to hear such harsh words from him. Realizing what he had just said, his face softened almost immediately, regret flashing in his eyes, but you were already leaving the room.

Less than five minutes later, Wonbin found you sitting on the couch. He slowly approached, his head hanging low. "Y/n, I... I didn’t mean that. I was really angry… Can I sit?" he murmured, and without looking at him, you nodded. "I deeply regret what I said. I want you to know that you're not the reason for anything bad in my life. In fact, you're the best thing I have right now," he said, taking your hand as he searched for your gaze. "Please forgive me, I didn’t mean it."

ᯓ★ SEUNGHAN

"I was happier before I met you."

The moment you heard Seunghan say those words, you felt your heart shatter. You both stood there, staring at each other. Your eyes filled with tears, while his were full of regret. After a few seconds, you lowered your head, and Seunghan quickly moved toward you, grabbing your hand, which you instantly pulled away.

"I didn’t mean that, Y/n. Oh my god, I’m so sorry," Seunghan ran a hand through his hair, shocked at what he had said, feeling horrible about how much he had hurt you. "I love you so much. You’re the happiest thing that’s ever happened to me. Please, forgive everything I said. I’m so sorry."

ᯓ★ SOHEE

"No one else would ever want you."

Sohee had never said anything so hurtful to you before. Even though you had fought before, you’d never reached the point of saying things that would hurt each other. Your eyes welled up with tears, but you didn’t want Sohee to see you cry, so you quickly left his apartment, heading to a nearby park to cry alone.

You spent an hour by yourself, lost in your thoughts, until you noticed someone sit beside you, handing you a bouquet of your favorite flowers. You looked at him, your eyes swollen. Sohee felt immediate regret the moment those words left his mouth. "That was the most unfair thing I’ve ever said. I’m so sorry... Can you forgive me?" There was a moment of silence before he spoke again. "Anyone who knows you will see how amazing you are and be lucky to have you. It’s just… I’m scared of losing you."

ᯓ★ ANTON

"I wish I’d never met you."

The moment Anton said those words, the room went silent. You stared at him in disbelief, not able to process what he had just said so coldly. Immediately, Anton tried to reach for your arm, but you stepped away from him, looking at him with shock and disbelief.

"I… I don’t wish that," he whispered, his voice trembling slightly as he looked at you, his eyes beginning to fill with tears. He tried to move closer to you. "It’s stupid what I said. It’s the worst thing I could have said, and I’m so sorry… I hate myself for it."

You watched as Anton lowered his head, tears slipping down his cheeks as he sat on the edge of the bed. "Please don’t hate me for that… Don’t leave me, please."

ᡣ𐭩 masterlist taglist: @regularsuh @gacktsa @totheseok @kkumistars @taroddori @enhacolor

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Forgive Me | John Price x Reader

Summary: After a rough day, Price gets home and accidentally raises his voice at you, leading to plenty of apologies, and making up for his mistake.

Word Count: ~ 1.2k

Warnings: price yelling at reader :( angst to fluff to a lil bit of smut, fingering, cuddling, cute snuggly kisses, nothing too bad

Minors, do not interact!

A/N: this was such a cute request from anon, I love price so much…like he’s such a cutiepie y’all don’t even get it, hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

You and your husband didn’t have many arguments.

Sure, the occasional little squabble where you’d only last maybe an hour before breaking and both apologizing to each other, acknowledging your wrongs.

The emotional maturity that both of you shared was something John Price appreciated most about your relationship.

But tonight was different.

He couldn’t even remember what had started the argument.

He’d already been wound up, having driven hours from the base to home after a long day of dealing with annoying recruits while his patience ran thin with their antics and horseplay. It had been a bit entertaining the first few times, but by the 40th time, it was plain annoying.

But they didn’t seem to understand that.

So he’d spent his day yelling at them till his voice was hoarse, some refusing to stop and just continuing what they’d been doing if they were ballsy enough.

And he supposed that instead of reverting into the normal John Price, the Price that was softer and gentler with you, he hadn’t seen the difference between you and those recruits in the moment.

One sarcastic remark, and you were both in the living room, Price pacing around leaving a trail on the floor while ranting in a loud, brusque voice all too similar to a yell. He got so caught up in himself, in his angry tirade of frustration with his day and the current situation, that he hadn’t noticed how he was asking until you muttered a meek little,

“John, you’re scaring me.”

It had floored him completely. Nearly all thoughts shut down at that one little sentence as he stopped pacing, standing stiller than a statue, eyes now observing your red-rimmed eyes brimmed with tears, or the quiet sniffles you were making, trying to hide them as well. He could tell.

Guilt punched him in the gut harder than any enemy had ever done.

He’d never grown up in a bad family, per se. It was just traditional. His father ranted while his mother kept her mouth shut, listening patiently and serving his every need. He could still remember how angry his father had been at his older sister when she’d snuck out with a boy. How his father had screamed at her in the kitchen while she’d sobbed, his mother doing nothing but sitting silently at the table, like a ghost.

He’d been terrified at the time. Promised himself and his future spouse that he would never treat a woman, his woman, that way.

And here he was. Doing the same thing.

“Love,”

He cooed apologetically, eyes crinkling in the corners from worry, brows furrowing as he held both his hands out towards you, watching as your bottom lip wobbled a bit when you took a little step back.

You were afraid.

Of him.

He’d be an idiot to think you wouldn’t have a bit of fear after what he’d done, screaming at you, a small woman, being the large man he was. Of course, you’d be afraid.

“I’m sorry, bird, please.”

He tried again, tone taking on a hint more desperation as he offered you at least a hand. Tears fell freely in streams down your face now, clumping in your lashes and catching in the corners of your lips.

Only when the first sob tore through your body, did you finally relent and fold into his warm, strong arms. His familiar musk, a mix of whiskey, barbecue, and a campfire, enveloped your senses as you buried your head in his shoulder. His hand stroked up and down your back soothingly, large palm gently massaging the tension out unknowingly, while his other hand ran through your hair.

“I know, I was being a right ass, wasn’ I?”

He murmured, the hand in your hair moving to your knees as he gently bent them while picking you up bridal style, your weight barely even noticeable to him as his feet padded against the floor, the door to your bedroom creaking open and promptly shutting behind him before he sat on the edge of the bed with you. The sobs shaking your already-trembling body slowly subsided, leaving you feeling emptier than before.

Now sniffling, tears hardly dried, you replied.

“Yeah, you were.”

His calloused thumb wiped whatever wetness remained on your face away. Your lips were still in a pout, one he tried to erase by gently pressing his chapped lips against yours, pulling away, his eyes gazing deep into yours.

“Really, I’m sorry. Didn’t intend to get carried away.”

He murmured, and you sniffled again before replying.

“It’s fine, I guess.”

He let out a dissatisfied hum, pulling the blankets out from underneath both of your bodies to gently cover you. He was already practically a human furnace, not needing much to warm him.

“It’s not fine, shouldn’t have lost my temper.”

His hands curled around your waist once again, holding you just a bit closer, as if wanting to keep you close. To keep you safe.

You raised a brow, relaxing into the cuddles nicely as you melted into his body, hardly noticing the way his thumbs were rubbing little circles into your hips.

“Yeah? What’re you gonna do to make it up to me, then?”

You teased, voice a bit drowsy already. He let out a small hum of thought, one warm hand slipping down your thigh, slowly making its way in between and rubbing those little circles onto your inner thigh, now.

“I’ve got an idea.”

He mumbled, his hand temporarily returning to him as he licked the pad of his thumb, leaving a bit of spit on it before returning to your inner thigh, the same hand pushing both your shorts and underwear to the side as his thumb slowly grazed through your folds, that bit of spit acting as a lubricant.

A low purr of delight from you, one that only grew more vocal as his thumb began lazy circles around your clit, not teasing or holding back, just slowly working you up until your legs were trembling, hips jerking slightly and little gasps escaping your lips.

“There you go, almost there,”

He cooed as you let a little whimper slip from between your lips, that tight coil in your stomach building and building before your orgasm washed over you like a cool breeze in the summer heat.

“Good girl…”

He murmured softly as his hand slipped out of your pants, adjusting them back into place before going back to holding your body against his, helping you back to reality from whatever clouds your sleepy mind was floating in.

“Mm…John?”

You mumbled against his shoulder, and one hand went back to stroking your hair.

“Yes, pretty?”

He questioned, ignoring the breathy little incoherent noises you kept letting out amidst words.

“I forgive you, really this time.”

An airy chuckle from your drowsy husband as he held you a little bit closer, tucking the blanket in over you as he smiled against your skin, giving your forehead a little peck before he closed his eyes, mumbling one last thing, mainly to himself, before sleep claimed him.

“Don’t know what I’d do without you, love.”

[sweetmarmalade]

「Reaction Of Haikyuu Men If Some Guy Asks Your Number From Them At A Party」

"Hey dude, that pretty girl and you look close, could you give me her number?"

⤷Kuroo

Kuroo would smirk, his sharp eyes gleaming with amusement. "Her number, huh?" He’d chuckle, leaning in closer to the guy, his voice lowering. "I’d ask her yourself if I were you. If she says yes, well, I’ll be surprised." Kuroo would wrap his arm around your waist, pulling you closer as if to say, good luck with that.

⤷Iwaizumi

Iwaizumi would give the guy a hard, no-nonsense stare. "Why would I give you her number?" His tone would be low and intimidating, not wanting to cause a scene but making it very clear that the conversation was over. He’d step in front of you slightly, his protective instincts kicking in, and he wouldn’t hesitate to guide you away from the situation without a second thought. Later, he might mutter about how some people have no sense.

⤷Bokuto

Bokuto would be taken aback at first, blinking in confusion. "Her number? But she's my girlfriend!" His loud, boisterous voice would attract attention, and he’d get a bit possessive, though still friendly. "Why would she give you her number when she’s with me?" He’d laugh it off but make sure to keep you close for the rest of the night.

⤷Akaashi

Akaashi would handle the situation calmly, his expression neutral but slightly more serious than usual. "I’m sorry, but that won’t be necessary." His tone would be polite, but his eyes would hold a quiet warning. He’d take your hand and guide you away from the guy, making sure to keep an eye on him for the rest of the party.

⤷Hinata

Hinata would be confused and maybe a bit flustered. "Her number? Um… no, sorry!" His response would be quick, and he’d immediately turn to you, giving you a reassuring smile as if checking if you’re okay. He wouldn’t hesitate to make it clear that you’re together, subtly standing in front of you protectively.

⤷Kageyama

Kageyama would be blunt and direct, not wasting any time. "No." His gaze would be sharp, almost intimidating. He’s not one for unnecessary explanations, and his firm tone would probably make the guy back off. Afterward, Kageyama would stick close to you for the rest of the night, though he might grumble about the guy’s audacity later.

⤷Tsukishima

Tsukishima would raise an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "You’re kidding, right?" His sarcasm would be thick, and his tall frame would loom just a bit closer to make the guy rethink his choices. He wouldn’t make a big deal of it, but the guy would definitely feel the silent judgment radiating from Tsukishima.

⤷Oikawa

Oikawa would give a charming smile, but his eyes would narrow just slightly. "Oh, my girlfriend’s number?" His tone would remain playful, but there’s a sharp edge to it. He’d laugh it off but make a point of being more affectionate with you, making it crystal clear that you’re taken and that he's not letting anyone come close.

⤷Daichi

Daichi would stay calm and composed, but his protective nature would kick in instantly. "Sorry, but that’s not going to happen." His voice would be polite yet firm, leaving no room for argument. He’d give the guy a respectful but serious look, making it clear that any further attempts would be a bad idea. Afterward, he’d check in with you to make sure you were comfortable and feeling safe.

⤷Sakusa

Sakusa would give the guy a cold, disinterested look. "No." He wouldn’t bother with explanations or niceties. The guy would probably feel the chill in Sakusa’s demeanor and quickly realize he should back off. Sakusa would stay close to you for the rest of the night, making sure no one else tries anything.

[jetii]

Few Fates Worse Than Death

Pairing: Wrecker x fem!Reader / Wrecker x Jedi!Reader

Words: 13,780

Tags/Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence, platonic Rex x Reader, kissing, found family stuff so that makes it better right?

Summary: You refused to believe that Wrecker would ever hurt you, but on Bracca, his nightmare finally comes true.

A/N: I've written angst to some degree for every member of the squad except for Wrecker, so I decided to change that. This is the first and probably only time I pull quotes/scenes directly from the show for a one-shot.

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

The moment Rex told you about the inhibitor chips, everything fell into place. A cold, icy dread filled you, even as the others insisted that the chips held no power over them. Everything that had happened since Kaller, since Crosshair and Master Billaba's men tried to kill you... you saw it all through a new lens, and the galaxy spun dizzyingly before you.

Like the others, you’d barely paid attention to Omega’s explanation of the chip. The idea that the Kaminoans put some sort of mind-altering device inside every clone was beyond the pale, so absurd that, even if it was true, you never thought to give it much attention. And Tech was so confident that his own research proved the chips had no such abilities. It was easier to trust Tech, who had always been honest and open with you, than to question your own instincts.

But Rex was different.

The others protested, but Rex had seen something, experienced it himself, and he wasn't willing to risk any of his brothers falling prey to it again. You can hear his fear in his voice, feel it radiating from him. His insistence that the chips be removed, one way or another, was unshakeable.

Rex looks over at you, as if expecting you to back him, but you can only look away.

You feel like you can't breathe, can't think. You take a step back and settle down on one of the barstools, your hand gripping the edge so tightly your knuckles are white. Your stomach churns with dread. What do you do? What can you do?

You’d felt it, the moment Jedi across the galaxy were cut down, like a thousand tiny shards of glass stabbing into your mind. The pain had been nearly blinding, and it had taken every bit of concentration you had to keep from screaming. But you hadn’t seen the images. Hadn’t witnessed the slaughter. That had been a mercy. You hadn't been there, hadn't seen them fall, but you still feel the echoes of their deaths in the Force, a dull, aching pain that never goes away.

The thought of what Rex had seen, what the other clones had experienced, sickens you. Being forced to witness the death of someone you care about is awful enough, but to see your own hand, your own blaster, murder the very people you are sworn to protect? You shudder, the horror of it too overwhelming to contemplate.

The others are talking now, and the argument is escalating. You watch them in a daze, barely able to focus. Your thoughts are running away with you, and you have to fight back against the urge to panic.

The clones were made to be obedient, but not this obedient. There was no way the Kaminoans, or the Jedi, or anyone would have created them with the ability to commit mass genocide at the push of a button. It couldn’t be real. It couldn't.

Could it?

"The chips make you a threat to everyone around you," Rex says, and it's like being doused in cold water. You stare up at him, wide-eyed, unable to speak.

Rex's jaw tightens. "You're all ticking time bombs." 

And you realize then that he's right. Even if the inhibitor chips really do hold no influence over the clones, you can't ignore the potential threat they pose. Not after what happened on Kaller, the horror of it still fresh in your mind. You hadn’t been there after, but you’d heard what happened. If Crosshair had really wanted to kill those refugees, if his chip had made him turn on his brothers... how could the others be so sure their own wouldn’t do the same?

They're all still arguing with Rex, telling him he's wrong, but they don't understand. None of them understand.

Rex turns to you, and when he sees your face, he falters. He knows. He has to know what's running through your head, because he takes a step forward, and you hold up your hand.

"Don't—"

"She's not safe with you," Rex says, gesturing to you. His face is stony, his expression hard. "Any of you. How can you protect her from yourselves?"

Wrecker's eyes dart between you and Rex, and when his gaze settles on you, his brows knit together in a worried frown. He looks distraught, and you wish there was something you could say, something you could do to ease his fears, but you can't get your tongue to work. 

"What are you talking about?" he demands. "We'd never hurt her."

"No, you don't understand. It's not—" Rex pauses, and his expression goes from pained to resigned. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head, his shoulders drooping. "What's in your head is more dangerous than you can imagine. I've seen what happens when the chip activates, and I don't want to bury any more of our brothers."

Rex meets each of the Batch's gazes in turn, then his eyes settle on you, and you know that you won't like whatever he has to say next.

"You can't keep her. She's not safe with any of you," he says quietly.

He's not saying anything you haven't thought before, but the way he phrases it sends a sharp stab of hurt through you, and the ache is only exacerbated when he continues.

"I can protect her."

"We can protect her!" Wrecker snaps, taking a step toward Rex. He glares down at the captain, looming over him, and for a moment, you're reminded of just how much larger Wrecker is than him. But Rex doesn't back down, doesn't flinch. Wrecker glances back toward you and Tech, a desperate look in his eye, and his voice goes soft. "Right?"

You open your mouth, but no sound comes out. Tech doesn't speak either. He just stares at Rex, a deep furrow in his brow.

"She'll be safer with us," Hunter argues. His voice is firm, but you can tell from the way he avoids meeting Rex's gaze that he's not nearly as certain as he seems.

"It's not the same," Rex says, and he's clearly struggling to hold onto his patience. "Trust me. It is not something you can control. I couldn't. It's a risk you do not want to take."

You've heard enough. Your throat is tight and your stomach is roiling, but you can't let them continue like this. You swallow back the bile and rise unsteadily to your feet.

"Enough," you say, your voice thin.

The others turn to you, and when Wrecker looks down at you, his expression is heartbreaking. You take a deep, steadying breath, then glance up at him.

"It's okay," you whisper, and force a small, reassuring smile. "Everything will be okay."

Your words don't have the desired effect. Wrecker's brow furrows and he takes a half-step toward you, reaching out his hand. He hesitates, and you close the distance between you, reaching up to take his hand in yours. His hand engulfs yours, and his fingers close around your hand gently, like he's afraid he might hurt you. His grip is warm and reassuring, and for a moment, everything is okay.

But it doesn't last.

“General, please." Rex's voice is soft, imploring, and when you meet his gaze, there's a pleading look in his eyes. "You know I'm right.”

“I’m not a general anymore, Rex," you say, shaking your head. "And I’m not a Jedi."

He opens his mouth to protest, but you cut him off.

"You can't ask this of me," you say, and a shiver runs through you. You wrap your free arm around yourself, wishing desperately for the security and comfort of the cloak you left behind. "Please. Don't."

Rex closes his eyes, and for a moment, the two of you are silent.

"Alright."

The others look relieved. Wrecker's face scrunches up and you think he's going to cry, but he's also smiling, and he wraps his arms around you and picks you up off the floor. He buries his face against your shoulder, and you wrap your arms around his neck, squeezing as tightly as you can.

"We'll figure this out," you say, and pray the others don't notice the way your voice wavers. "It'll be okay."

Wrecker nods, but his voice is thick when he replies. "I don't want you to go."

"I'm not going anywhere," you promise. "I'm not leaving."

But Rex's words are stuck in your head, echoing relentlessly. It's a risk you do not want to take.

Wrecker sets you down, and when he steps back, there's a wet sheen in his eyes. He rubs at his face and laughs nervously. You reach out and take his hand, squeezing it lightly, and offer him a smile. It feels forced and unnatural, and Wrecker must notice, because his expression falls, and he looks almost guilty. He drops his gaze and takes a deep, shuddering breath.

You look past him to the others. Tech is standing by the door, his arms folded tightly across his chest. You can see his hands are clenched, the muscles in his arms tense. His eyes are fixed on the floor, and when he senses your attention, he lifts his gaze and meets your eyes. His brow is furrowed, and you know he wants to say something. You can see the words forming in his mind, but whatever he's thinking, he keeps it to himself. He holds your gaze for a moment longer, then looks away.

Hunter and Echo are standing together, watching you. When you meet Hunter's eye, he gives you a curt nod.

"It'll be alright," he says, and his tone is oddly final. He turns back to Rex. "How do you suggest we get them out?"

"Good question," Rex replies, and his gaze falls on you again. He frowns and tilts his head. "You're sure you don't want to leave?"

"Yes," you reply, but your voice sounds thin, even to you. You clear your throat and repeat the word more firmly, and the others all look at you. "Yes. I'm sure."

Rex hesitates. For a long moment, he just looks at you, as if searching for some sign that you've changed your mind. Then he sighs and nods, his expression grim.

"Alright. I'll be in touch."

He leaves without another word. The moment he disappears up the stairwell, Wrecker tugs you against him, wrapping his arms around you and crushing you against his chest. You squeeze him back, closing your eyes and resting your forehead against his chest. Your heart is pounding so hard that you can feel it in your temples, and your head is throbbing.

"It'll be okay," you repeat, trying to sound reassuring, but there's an uncertainty in your heart that you can't ignore. You're not sure who you're trying to convince, yourself or Wrecker, but you both need to hear the words.

You're not sure what comes next. You've only just got back to the Batch, and now this...

It feels like you're standing on a precipice.

You're not sure which way the wind will blow.

Wrecker's headaches are getting worse, and they come more frequently.

He can barely sleep, and his temper is short. More than once, he's lashed out at the others, and you can tell that it's eating him up inside. He's ashamed and frustrated, and all the more upset because there's nothing he can do. When he does manage to rest, it's fitful. You're not sure how long it's been since he slept properly, and it worries you.

Your own rest is fitful as well.

Ever since Rex's revelation, there's been a tension between you all that was never there before. It's like you're all just waiting for something bad to happen, and every day that passes is just more time spent in anticipation of a nightmare you can't stop.

It's hard to shake, and sometimes, it's all you can do not to cry. You miss the Jedi, the people you thought of as family, and the knowledge that the clones were responsible for their deaths is like a knife through your heart. It was easier when you didn't know the truth, when the deaths felt more distant. Now, every time you think about the Jedi, you can't help wondering how they felt in those final moments. If they knew.

The pain in the Force is still there, but it's different. A constant ache, a reminder of all the lives lost. Sometimes, it's too much, and the grief overwhelms you.

The worst part is knowing that the others are keeping their distance.

It's subtle. Just little things, but you can tell.

You and Omega are still spending most of your downtime together, but when you go to spend time with the others, it doesn't last as long. You've barely seen Echo and Tech, and Hunter is avoiding you like the plague.

And Wrecker.

Wrecker is pulling away, and he's doing it so slowly that you didn't notice at first. At least, not until you woke up one morning to find the bed empty. He hasn't slept beside you since that night with Rex, and he's not spending much time with you outside of missions. And the longer this goes on, the harder it is to break the ice.

When you do manage to talk to him, you try to offer support. You want to reassure him, to comfort him, but the pain in his head makes him recalcitrant. It's like he doesn't want you to know the truth of what's bothering him, and the more you press, the more agitated he gets.

One night, you try to help him with his headache. He's sitting on his bunk, leaning over and clutching his head, and you can't stand by and watch him suffer any longer.

You sit beside him and rest a hand on his back. His skin is slick with sweat, and his muscles are tense, his entire body shaking with pain.

"Can I help?" you ask, keeping your voice soft. "Will it help if I massage your temples?"

Wrecker's answer is a muffled groan, and it's impossible to tell whether it's a yes or a no, so you tentatively begin to rub your fingers in slow circles. You start at his temples and work outward, hoping that some of the tension will release.

You keep rubbing for a while, and it seems to help, a little. When his head finally slumps forward, you pause.

"How's that?" you ask softly.

"S'good," Wrecker grumbles, but the tone of his voice makes it clear that he's anything but pleased. "Thanks."

He doesn't move, doesn't relax. You're not sure what else to do, but you don't want to leave him like this. It feels wrong.

"Is there anything else I can do?" you ask, and you try to keep your voice gentle.

Wrecker shakes his head. "I'm fine."

“You’re not.” Your words are quiet, but they feel like a shout. Wrecker freezes, and for a long moment, neither of you speaks. You sigh and move so that you're kneeling in front of him, and you place your hands on his knees. "Please, talk to me."

He doesn't answer. He doesn't move, his head bowed.

"Why are you shutting me out?" you whisper.

"I'm not," Wrecker mumbles. His hands come up to cover his head, and you have the feeling that the action has less to do with his headache and more to do with his reluctance to meet your gaze. "I'm just..."

His words trail off, and a tense silence falls between you.

"What's wrong?" you ask, and now your voice is wavering. The tears you've been fighting for days are threatening to spill over, but you hold them back. You take a deep, shuddering breath and lean in closer. "Wrecker. Please."

"It's nothing," Wrecker mutters, and his shoulders hunch. He doesn't look at you, and his hands clench into fists.

"It's not nothing."

You hesitate, then gently rest your hand on his cheek. He flinches, and for a moment, your stomach tightens with fear. But then his eyes flick up to yours, and when he sees your face, a pained look crosses his features. His eyes soften, and a single tear rolls down his cheek.

"You're not sleeping. I can tell."

"Neither are you," he grunts, and he tries to pull away.

"I'm worried about you," you whisper. You reach out and touch his hand. "Talk to me."

Wrecker looks away. He wipes the tear from his cheek and clears his throat. "Don't be."

"I can't help it." You reach out and touch his hand, and when he flinches, it's like being stabbed through the heart. You draw back and look away. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to pressure you."

"I know."

"Just... if you need anything. I'm here."

"I know," he whispers. He looks down at his hands, and the tears are back. He wipes them away, but not before they start rolling down his cheeks. He shakes his head. "I'm a fuckin' mess."

"It's okay."

“It’s not okay,” he snaps. He glares up at you, his brow furrowing, and the pain in his expression is so raw that it takes your breath away. His voice is thick with tears. "I don't wanna hurt you."

"You won't," you insist, but your stomach twists and knots at his words. "I trust you."

"You shouldn't."

"Wrecker—"

"What if Rex was right?" Wrecker asks, and his words cut straight through your heart. "What if he's right? What if—what if something happens, and I..."

His voice trails off, and when he looks at you, his eyes are wet. He blinks and swallows, and when he continues, his voice is strained.

"What if the chip took control, and I hurt you? Or Omega? I couldn't..." He chokes and shakes his head, looking away. "I couldn't live with myself."

"Nothing is going to happen," you insist, and when Wrecker doesn't answer, your heart sinks. You climb up onto the bed and wrap your arms around him, pulling him against you. He rests his forehead against yours, and the tears are streaming freely down his cheeks. You kiss his cheek and reach up to brush away the tears, but there are too many. You wipe away a few, but the others just keep coming, and Wrecker lets out a soft, miserable noise. "Oh, Wrecker."

He doesn't answer. He turns his face into the crook of your neck and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, and buries his face against you.

"I can't lose you," he whispers, his voice thick. "Not again."

"You won't," you murmur. "I promise. You won't lose me."

You can't be sure that's true, but you don't know what else to say. Wrecker holds you tightly, and you wrap your arms around him and kiss the side of his neck, and then his cheek, his shoulder, his chest, his lips. You want him to know how much you care, how much you need him. How much you love him.

"I'm not going anywhere," you say as your own tears spill over. You squeeze him tight and bury your face against his neck. "You won't lose me."

"If anything happened to you..." Wrecker shudders, and his grip on you tightens. "I couldn't handle it. If something happened, I couldn't—"

He stops and takes a deep, shuddering breath. He presses his face into your hair and squeezes you tightly. His voice is small, almost lost in the darkness.

"I love you."

You freeze. For a moment, your heart stutters, and you feel like your lungs have stopped working. He's never said it before. Not in words, anyway. You’ve known it for a long time, but to hear him say it, even in a moment like this, is something else entirely. It makes you ache.

"I love you," Wrecker repeats, and then his face scrunches up and his words spill out in a rush. "I've loved you for so long. I love everything about you. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, and the thought of hurting you, or losing you, is too much. I can't. I won't."

"Wrecker." You pull back and take his face in your hands. "Look at me."

"I should have told you earlier," Wrecker mumbles. His words are so slurred together that they're almost unintelligible. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Your eyes are filled with tears, and it's hard to see, but you know you need to get close to him, to offer him the same reassurance he's given you countless times. So you slide onto his lap, wrapping your arms around him, and rest your forehead against his.

"I'm not. There was never a good time, not really. But now, right now, I'm glad I heard it." You cup his cheek and brush the tears away. "And I'm glad I can tell you now. Because I love you too. So much. And I need you to know that. I'm not going anywhere. Not ever."

You press your lips to his, and he responds instantly, returning the kiss with a hunger that catches you off guard. It's intense and overwhelming, and he pulls you tighter against him, like he's trying to merge the two of you together. His hand slips beneath your shirt, his fingers splayed across your lower back, and he groans into the kiss. It's the most intense and passionate kiss the two of you have ever shared, and it leaves you gasping for breath.

"I love you," you repeat, and when he looks at you, his eyes are bright. He leans in and kisses your forehead, then rests his forehead against yours and closes his eyes.

"I won't let anything happen to you," he whispers. "No matter what. I promise."

"I know." You press a soft kiss to his jaw, then rest your head on his shoulder. "And I won't let anything happen to you. We're in this together. I'm here, no matter what."

Wrecker doesn't reply. He just nods and wraps his arms around you, leaning back until the two of you are lying down. He pulls you on top of him, and when you shift, the movement is enough to send a shiver through him.

He presses his face into your hair and holds you close, and for a long time, the two of you stay like that, holding each other. It's a little awkward, with your legs tangled together and the bunk too small for the two of you, but it feels right. It feels good. Safe.

 "I love you,” you whisper again, and Wrecker's arms tighten around you. He kisses the side of your neck, and his breath tickles the hairs on the back of your neck. You snuggle deeper into his embrace and close your eyes.

"Love you," Wrecker mumbles. 

The way he says it is so soft, so full of adoration, that your heart breaks a little. You love him. You love him so much. You never thought you'd get to say the words, never thought it would be possible, but now that it's out there, the words come so easily, like they've always been waiting to come out. And the relief of hearing him say them back is almost dizzying.

You stay there, wrapped up in each other's arms, and you listen to the sound of Wrecker's breathing. He falls asleep eventually, and his grip loosens, but he doesn't let go. When you're sure he's sleeping, you shift, resting your head against his chest and listening to the steady beat of his heart.

You close your eyes, and for the first time in a while, you feel safe.

For the first time in a while, sleep comes easily.

As soon as you arrived on Bracca, things took a turn for the worse. You'd all managed to dodge the Scrapper's Guild, but traversing the wreckage of the fallen Venator was a trial in and of itself. There was debris everywhere, and you could hardly breathe in the thick, oppressive air. Every step felt like it could be your last, and you and Hunter couldn't stop sensing something in the murky water below. Something lurking, waiting. And when Wrecker fell in...

He'd nearly drowned. He'd nearly been devoured by that dianoga. You'd thought you'd lost him.

You can't think about it.

He's safe now, and that's all that matters. He's safe, and you can finally breathe again. But the tension is still there, coiled tight in your stomach, and it's not just because of Wrecker. There's something else, something more. 

It's been there since Kaller, a feeling that something terrible is looming. You've felt it before, and it's never been wrong. The Force is trying to warn you, but the warnings are growing more frequent, more intense. Something big is coming, and there's no telling when it will happen, but you're sure it's not good.

You're standing in the back of the medbay, trying to keep out of the way as Tech works on Wrecker. He's running scans and taking readings, and the whole time, he's muttering under his breath. You cast a glance at Rex, who's standing next to you, but his attention is focused on the scene in front of him, his brow furrowed and his hands clasped behind his back.

"You've been quiet," he murmurs, his gaze shifting towards you.

"Yeah."

"Wanna talk about it?"

You hesitate. There's no point in keeping it to yourself, and maybe it'll help to get it off your chest.

"The Force is warning me," you say quietly, and Rex nods. "I don't know what it is, but... I can't shake the feeling that something bad is coming."

Rex frowns. "Do the others know?"

You nod, and he turns his gaze back toward the medbay. "Have they said anything?"

"Hunter knows," you say, and the words catch in your throat. "But... he's been keeping his distance."

Rex glances at you. His expression is unreadable.

"They all are," you whisper, and the admission is almost painful. You look away, unable to meet his gaze, and you have to fight the urge to cry. "I don't know what to do."

"You're worried," Rex says. It's not a question.

"Yeah," you reply, and a chill runs through you. You wrap your arms around yourself, hugging tightly, and take a shaky breath. “But it’s not just that. The Force is warning me. They... they could be in danger. All of them."

You swallow, and when you speak again, your voice is quiet.

"All of us."

He studies you for a moment, then looks back at Tech. He's still working, but now he's talking, and whatever he's saying is enough to pull a groan out of Wrecker. Rex watches them for a moment, his expression thoughtful, then looks back at you. His expression is grim.

 "How bad is it?"

You don't answer at first. The truth is, you're not sure. But Rex waits patiently, his gaze never leaving your face. Finally, you take a deep breath and force the words out.

"Bad," you say at last. You can't hide the fear in your voice. "Whatever it is, I think it's really bad."

Rex doesn't reply, but you can see the worry on his face. He knows what you're capable of, and he's seen firsthand the things you can do when the Force moves through you. If you're afraid, he's got every reason to be scared, too.

The two of you are silent, and when you can't bear it any longer, you break the silence.

"Do you believe in fate?" you ask.

Rex raises an eyebrow, surprised. He looks back at Tech, then shakes his head.

"Not really. I mean, maybe. Sometimes," he admits, and there's a hint of a smile on his lips. "But I try not to think about it too much."

You nod. "I can't help it."

"Why's that?"

"Because... sometimes, I think it's meant to be. Like, everything that happens is part of some bigger plan, and I can't change it,” you mutter. Your eyes drop to the floor. "All is as the Force wills it, and all that. But I don't know. It's... scary. It makes me feel helpless."

Rex doesn't reply at first. His brow furrows, and for a moment, he seems troubled. He looks over at the others, then back at you, and his expression softens.

"I know what you mean," he says, his voice is gentle. "But whatever it is, we'll handle it."

His hand comes up to rest on your shoulder, and you look at him. His face is serious, and the look in his eyes is reassuring. But he can't give you the answers you want, and the feeling of uncertainty lingers. You turn, pulling away from him, and your gaze falls on the others.

"Yeah," you say, but the word comes out sounding weak. Your eyes meet Wrecker's, and the concern in his expression is enough to make your heart clench. You don't want to worry him. You can't. Not after everything he's been through. You force a smile and say the words you don’t mean, knowing he can hear you. "We'll be fine."

It sounds hollow even to your own ears, but Wrecker relaxes, and the look of worry fades from his eyes. You look away, unable to bear the guilt gnawing at your stomach, and the smile fades from your face.

You know that if something happens, if something goes wrong, he'll blame himself. You don't want that. You don't want him to feel guilty, but the truth is, you're scared. For the first time, you're genuinely terrified. And not just for the Batch.

You're terrified for yourself. For the first time, you have something to lose. Your life, your happiness. You've never had that before.

And you don't want to lose it.

But the truth is, there's nothing you can do. You have to face the future, whatever it may bring, and pray that things turn out okay.

Rex's gaze flicks between you and Wrecker. He can see the concern in Wrecker's face, the worry in yours. His eyes are filled with sadness. Regret.

"I'm sorry," he says. "About before. I didn't..."

His voice trails off, and his brow furrows.

"I should have been more tactful," he says finally, and the corners of his mouth twitch up. He looks away, and when he speaks again, his voice is soft. "It's not an easy thing to talk about."

"No," you agree. "It's not."

He doesn't say anything, and neither do you. You both know there's nothing to say. There's no point in arguing or talking about what might happen. No point in making promises or predictions. There's only the present, the future unknown. So instead, Rex just squeezes your shoulder once more before letting his hand fall away. 

He moves to stand near Hunter, and the two of them start talking quietly. You watch them for a moment, but they're too far away for you to hear, so you turn your attention back to Wrecker and Tech.

Wrecker is groaning and wincing, his face contorted with pain as he hunches over. He looks miserable, and you want to comfort him, but Tech is moving him from one piece of equipment to another, and there's no room for you. 

Omega is hovering nearby, a look of concern on her face. She's wringing her hands, and her gaze darts between the two of you. She wants to help, and she's doing her best, but there's only so much any of you can do. You walk over to place your hand on her shoulder and try to give her a reassuring smile, but it feels forced.

You hate seeing him like this. You hate feeling helpless.

"Relax," Tech says as he prepares the surgical laser. "This won't hurt a bit."

Wrecker glares at him, and the look on his face would be amusing if not for the circumstances. Tech gives him an apologetic smile, then looks back at you.

"Could I trouble you to assist?"

"Of course," you say, and step closer.

"Hold his shoulders, please."

You do as he asks, moving to stand behind the bed, and hold Wrecker's shoulders firmly. He looks up at you, and the misery on his face is clear. It's hard to see him like this, but he needs you. So you do your best. You smile down at him, and when he smiles back, the tightness in your chest loosens, and the fear recedes, a little. You lean forward and press a kiss to his forehead.

"It'll be alright," you whisper. "You're going to be okay."

Wrecker takes a shuddering breath and nods, and you feel his body tense as Tech steps closer. You let out a slow, steady breath, and close your eyes, trying to impart as much calm through the Force as possible. Wrecker's shoulders relax, and his breathing slows.

Tech is talking again, and the sound of the laser whines, then there's a flash of light. You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and the air around you fills with static.

"You're in direct violation of Order 66," Wrecker growls, and your eyes snap open.

He lurches forward, his face contorting, and the force of him breaking from your hold sends you stumbling backwards. Wrecker grabs Tech by the throat, the laser slipping from his fingers and clattering to the floor. Tech tries to grab Wrecker's hand, but Wrecker is stronger, and he shoves him backwards, slamming him into the wall hard enough that it dents.

He's staring at his brother with cold, empty eyes, and you're frozen, unable to move or speak. There's no sign of the man you love, no trace of the gentle, caring, passionate man who's loved and cherished you since the moment you met. His face is devoid of emotion, his eyes blank and dead. There's no recognition, no hint of compassion or mercy. 

Nothing but a cold, empty void.

Your blood runs cold, and your stomach lurches. This isn't him. This can't be him.

"No! Stop!" you shout. Your voice cracks, and when Wrecker's gaze snaps towards you, a cold sweat breaks out across your skin. His eyes are dark, and there's something else in his expression. Something that scares the hell out of you.

Wrecker's lips curl into a snarl, and the anger is so fierce and sudden that it catches you off guard. You take a step forward, but Rex catches your arm, stopping you. You don't look at him. You can't look away from Wrecker, from his eyes. 

His grip on Tech's throat tightens. Tech's hands scrabble at his hand, and his feet kick uselessly against the wall.

"Please! Wrecker, stop! You're killing him!"

For a moment, you think you've gotten through to him. For a moment, you see something in his eyes, a flash of recognition, a spark of life. But it's gone as soon as it appears, and he throws Tech across the room with a snarl. 

You jerk your arm free from Rex's grip and rush forward, but Echo catches you around the waist and pulls you back behind cover. You struggle against him, desperate to help, but he's too strong.

"Wrecker!" Hunter cries. "Stop! Fight it!"

Wrecker is beyond hearing. He grabs his blaster and fires wildly, narrowly missing Rex as he dives behind the crates next to you, Hunter and Omega close behind. Your heart is pounding, and you're shaking so hard your teeth are chattering. Omega is trembling too, and she's staring blankly ahead with wide, frightened eyes. She looks like she's on the verge of tears.

"He'll destroy the equipment if we don't get him out of here," Echo says, his voice strained.

"You're all traitors!" Wrecker bellows.

He keeps firing, and it's a miracle no one's been hit yet. Rex pops his head up, ducking back down just in time to avoid being shot.

"You need to run," he says to you. "He's not going to stop until he kills you, and I don't think any of us are going to survive if that happens."

You shake your head. "I can't leave him."

"There's no other way. We'll distract him, but you need to go. Now!"

"No!" You shove Echo away and lunge towards Wrecker. Hunter is in front of you in an instant, grabbing your shoulders and shoving you back.

"Stop," he says. "Listen to Rex. Please. He'll kill you. Do you understand? You have to go."

"He needs me." You can feel the tears coming, and when Hunter sees them, his face softens.

"He does," he agrees. "But right now, he's a danger to you. He's a danger to everyone. You have to go. I'll keep him safe. I promise. But right now, he's going to kill you."

He holds your gaze, and the pain in his eyes is so raw and intense that you feel like your heart is breaking.

"What if you can't stop him?" you demand, your voice cracking. "What if you die? I can't let him do this."

Hunter doesn't answer. He's not even looking at you anymore. His attention is focused on his rampaging brother, and he's getting ready to strike. You can see it in his body language, the tension in his shoulders, the set of his jaw.

"Omega, stay with Tech," he says, ignoring you. "Make sure he's alright. We'll handle Wrecker."

Omega nods, and the two of you exchange a long, sorrowful look.

"It'll be okay," she whispers. "He'll be okay."

"I... I hope so."

You're not sure how much of that you believe.

"Go," Hunter urges. "We'll find you. I promise."

"Hunter—"

"Go."

You swallow hard and nod, and then you're running, narrowly dodging the blaster bolts thudding into the doorframe as you dash out the doors. You hear Wrecker's howl of rage, and then the sound of blaster fire as the others charge him, and the sound makes you sob.

"No," you whisper, and then you're running.

You're not sure where to go, and the ship is a blur around you as you dart down the halls, tears streaming down your cheeks. You run until you can't run anymore, and then you stumble, your chest heaving and your lungs burning. Your legs are weak, and the muscles in your thighs are aching, but you push on, determined not to give up. 

You have to get away. You have to stay alive. If you're alive, you can help him.

But the further you get from Wrecker, the more you feel like your heart is being ripped out. You want to be with him, to save him, but Hunter was right. You have no chance of defeating him without killing him, and the thought of you dying, of leaving him alone, terrifies you.

So you run.

You don't stop until the sound of his blaster fire has faded, and even then, you don't dare stop moving. You're sobbing uncontrollably now, and it's hard to see. Your vision is blurred, and the tears are pouring down your cheeks. You have no idea where you are, and every corridor and door looks the same. It's impossible to tell which way leads out, or even if there is an exit. All you know is that you're lost, and for the first time in a long time, you’re alone.

You finally come to a stop and lean against the wall, gasping for breath. You feel sick, and the walls are spinning. You squeeze your eyes shut and rest your head against the wall, willing the world to stop.

But it doesn't. And it's not just the room that's spinning. It's everything. Your whole world is spinning out of control, and you’re helpless to stop it. You've lost everything. You've lost your home, your friends, and now you've lost the man you love. He's been taken from you, and there's nothing you can do.

You're powerless.

Hot tears spill down your cheeks. Your chest is tight, and it feels like your heart is shattering. You can't breathe. You can't think. You just stand there, crying and shaking and feeling completely, utterly useless.

After what feels like hours, the tears begin to slow. You take a deep, shuddering breath, and the knot in your stomach loosens, just a little.

There's still a chance, you tell yourself. They'll stop him. They'll get him out of there. Wrecker will be okay. Everything will be okay. It has to be.

And then you sense him.

Wrecker's warm presence in the Force is gone, replaced by something cold and empty. He’s always felt warm, bright and strong, but now there's nothing there. Nothing but a cold, hollow void. A darkness so intense that it makes your skin crawl.

Your head snaps up, and you can feel him, a shadow looming in the corridor behind you. His presence is like a black hole, sucking the life and warmth out of the room, and you can't move. You can't breathe. Your heart is hammering in your chest, and the hair on the back of your neck stands up.

Your instincts are screaming at you to run, but you can't. You won't.

You don't know if it's stupid or brave, but you turn to face him.

You move slowly, terrified of what you'll see, and when your eyes meet his, a shiver runs down your spine.

He's standing there, his breathing labored and his body tensed, and he's staring at you with an intensity that makes your skin crawl. In the dim light of the wrecked ship, his face is barely visible, but his eyes are shining with a cold, cruel light. There's no recognition in them, no hint of the man you love, and for a moment, you can't believe what you're seeing.

But the hatred radiating off him is real, a tangible thing, and it's enough to make you sick. It's worse than any injury or torture. Worse than anything you've ever experienced. It's a raw, visceral hatred, and it's directed right at you.

You stand your ground, your hands shaking, and you clench them into fists.

"Wrecker," you say, and the words sound small and weak. "I'm sorry."

His brow furrows, and his jaw tenses.

"I should have done more," you continue, and the words catch in your throat. You're choking on the lump that's formed there, and you swallow, fighting back the urge to sob. "I should have protected you."

Wrecker doesn't answer. His gaze flickers over your face, taking in your tear-stained cheeks and the fear in your eyes. You can feel his hatred, the cold rage coiled tight in his muscles. He's barely holding himself back, and the tension in his body is palpable.

"Please," you whisper. "You have to fight this. This isn't you."

He doesn't reply. He takes a step towards you, and you tense, ready to defend yourself. You don't want to hurt him. You don't want to hurt him. You can't.

"Wrecker, please. Don't do this." Your voice cracks, and when he doesn't react, the tears start flowing again. "I love you. I need you. Please, don't do this."

Wrecker pauses, and his eyes widen. The hatred in his eyes wavers, and for a moment, you let yourself believe that you've reached him. But then his lip curls, and the hatred comes surging back. It's stronger this time, fueled by a rage so intense that it takes your breath away.

"Traitor," he growls, and then he lunges at you.

He moves so fast that you barely have time to react. You dodge out of the way, barely avoiding his grasp, and his hand closes around empty air. He snarls and whirls, his eyes burning with hatred. You take a step back, and the tears are streaming down your face.

"Stop this!" you cry. "Wrecker, please! I don't want to hurt you!"

He doesn't listen. He moves with a speed and grace that belies his size, and he's on you in an instant. You manage to avoid him again, but only just. He slams into the wall next to you, and the impact makes the metal buckle. The sound is deafening, and it sends a shockwave through the room. The walls creak and groan, and dust and debris rain down from the ceiling.

Wrecker's head snaps towards you, his eyes burning with a cold, cruel fire, and your stomach lurches. His lips curl into a snarl, and then he's coming for you again. 

You turn and run, darting down the corridor, and he's right behind you. You can hear the pounding of his boots on the floor, and the sound of his ragged breathing. He's gaining on you, and you don't know if you can keep ahead of him without hurting him. 

Your eyes are wide and desperate, and your heart is racing. You're terrified, but you force yourself to push that fear aside, to try and remember your training. You can't let it control you. You can't let it consume you. 

If you do, you'll never save him. You'll never get him back. You have to stay focused. You have to stay calm.

But it's so hard.

Wrecker roars, and you feel the air rush past you as he grabs at your arm. You jerk free, and his fingers close around empty air. You twist and slam your shoulder into his side, and he stumbles, hissing with rage. You reach out with the Force and shove him back, giving yourself just enough room to move, and then you're running again.

"Please," you sob. "Please, stop."

He doesn't.

You dodge around a corner, and the floor suddenly disappears beneath your feet. Your eyes go wide, and you cry out as the world drops out from under you. You tumble down the sudden drop, landing hard on your shoulder, and the breath is knocked from your lungs. You gasp, pain lancing through your shoulder, and for a moment, you're too stunned to move.

The sound of boots pounding on the floor above snaps you out of your daze, and you roll onto your back, pushing yourself to your feet. Your head whips around, taking in your surroundings, and it only takes you a moment to realize where you are. You're in the cargo bay, and the doors leading out to the planet are mere meters away.

Your heart leaps. You can get out. You can get help.

But you hesitate, and the feeling of his presence in the Force is enough to make your blood run cold. You dart behind a stack of crates just as Wrecker lands on the floor in front of you. He hits the ground hard, and the impact is enough to make the floor underneath you shake.

Your hand clasps over your mouth to hide your surprised gasp. Your chest is heaving, and your heart is racing. The tears are still falling, and you're trembling so hard that your knees are shaking.

The sudden silence is almost deafening, and the only sound is the distant hum of the ship's engines. You don't dare to breathe. You can't make a sound.

"I know you're here," Wrecker says. His voice is low and menacing. "You can't hide forever."

He steps forward, his boots crunching on broken glass. His footsteps are slow, methodical, like he's stalking his prey. He's close. So close. Too close.

"Come out, traitor," he snarls.

You shrink back against the crates. Your heart is pounding so hard that you're sure he can hear it. Your palms are sweating, and the crate next to you is slick with condensation. You have nowhere to go, and no way out. If you try to run, he'll catch you. And if you try to fight, you'll have to kill him.

"I'll find you," Wrecker growls. His voice is low and menacing, and it sends a chill down your spine. "You can't hide from me."

He moves closer, and the sound of his footsteps seems to grow louder with each passing second. You hold your breath, and your hand drifts toward your lightsaber on your hip on instinct before you clench your fist and drop your arm. You can't. You can't use it. You won't.

You won't hurt him.

You'll die first.

Wrecker moves around the crates, and his shadow falls across the wall. You can see his outline, and the hatred emanating off him is like a physical thing. It's palpable, suffocating, and it's enough to make your heart skip a beat.

You hear a thud, and a crate falls to the floor with a loud crash. You flinch, and your hand goes to your lightsaber again, but you stop yourself. You can't use it. You can't. Not against him. Not like this.

Another crate topples. And another. And another. Wrecker's getting closer. You can hear him breathing, and your heart is pounding so hard that your head is spinning. You can't see him, but you know he's there, lurking just out of sight.

He's so close.

So close.

He stops, and the room is deathly silent. You can't hear his breathing, and he's motionless, as if he's waiting for you to make a sound. The seconds tick by, and the tension in the air is so thick that it's almost impossible to breathe.

You can't take it.

"Please," you whimper, and the word comes out as a sob.

He freezes, and for a moment, everything is still.

And then the air shifts. You sense a sudden movement, and a fraction of a second later, the crate above you explodes. You yelp and dive to the side, rolling out of the way, and the crate is reduced to splinters.

 Your scramble to your feet, your back slamming against the wall, and you look up. Wrecker is standing over you, and his eyes are cold, dark pools. His hulking form trembles with rage, and he rushes towards you, his hand curled into a fist. You duck under the blow, and your hand flashes out, connecting with his chin. He stumbles, but he doesn't stop. 

He lunges at you, and you dodge, his hand catching your tunic and ripping the fabric. The sound of it tearing is deafening, and you feel the heat of his breath on your skin as he growls.

"Stop!" you plead.

He doesn't.

"Traitor," he hisses. He's on you again, and this time, you can't avoid him. 

Wrecker hits you in the stomach, and the breath leaves your lungs in a rush. Pain blooms through your torso, and your knees buckle. He swings again, and you throw up your arms, blocking the blow. The force of it knocks you to the ground, and your head smacks against the hard floor.

His fingers wrap around your throat, and he lifts you off the ground with one hand. Wrecker pulls you up close to his face, and the look in his eyes is terrifying. It's pure, unbridled hatred, and it's directed at you.

"Wrecker," you manage to croak. Your eyes search his desperate to find any sign of the man you love, and he growls, his grip tightening.

"Wrecker, please." Tears stream down your face, and you claw at his hands, struggling to breathe. Your lungs are burning, and the pain in your head is almost unbearable. He's going to kill you. He's going to kill you, and there's nothing you can do to stop him.

You know that your next breath will be your last, and you feel a strange sense of peace wash over you. There are worse fates than dying by his hands. Worse things than losing your life. You're not afraid. You're not angry. All you feel is sorrow, and a deep, aching love for the man in front of you. The man who's been your whole world, your heart, and the only home you've ever known.

If this is how it ends, so be it. At least you got to know him.

"Wrecker," you choke out, your voice barely audible. "I... I love..."

His fingers tighten, and everything goes black.

Your eyes flutter open, and the world swims back into focus. There's a dull ache in your skull, and the air feels strangely thin. Your chest is heaving, and it takes you a moment to realize that you're not breathing.

No, you're hyperventilating.

Wrecker.

His name is on your lips, and you gasp before a terrible, aching pain lances through your skull. You try to move, but your body is heavy.

You're lying on your side. The ground beneath you is hard, and the air is thick and heavy. There's a bitter taste in your mouth, and your throat is burning. You try to take a deep breath, but it's like someone's squeezing the life out of you.

"Hey. Easy."

The voice is familiar. Soothing. But it doesn't register.

Someone rolls you onto your back, and the movement sends a jolt of pain through your body. You gasp, and the air burns. You can't see anything, but you feel something cool and wet being pressed against your face. It hurts, and you try to pull away, but a gentle hand holds you still.

"Shhh. Relax."

The voice is familiar, but your mind is too fuzzy to place it. Your head is throbbing, and your throat feels like it's on fire. You can't focus. You can't think. All you can do is lay there and try to breathe.

"Stay still. I'm trying to clean you up."

You try to open your eyes, but everything is blurry. A pair of dark brown eyes stares down at you, but it's not the mismatched ones you're looking for.

Rex.

He's holding something cold and wet against your face, and the sensation is painful, but soothing. You take a few shallow breaths, the air finally starting to reach your lungs. You cough, and it's like sandpaper being scraped against the back of your throat.

"Don't try to talk," Rex says. "You need rest."

Rest. The word echoes through your head. Your thoughts are jumbled, and you can't seem to focus.

"What... What happened?" you manage to croak. Your voice is hoarse, and your words come out sounding more like a growl than anything else.

"I think it's better if I don't tell you," Rex says. He's frowning, and the look on his face makes your heart clench. "Just focus on breathing."

You take another breath, and this one is a little easier. The pressure in your head is fading, and your vision is starting to clear.

"Wrecker," you rasp. "Is he...?"

"Yeah," Rex says softly. "He's... He's okay."

"Where is he?"

"We got his chip out, and the others," Rex tells you. "Tech is treating his injuries now."

There's a catch in his voice, and you can tell that something is wrong. Something terrible. You feel a sharp stab of panic, and you try to sit up, but the room spins. Rex grabs your shoulders and eases you back down.

"Just stay still," he says. "You need to rest."

"I'm fine," you argue, but your voice is weak, and the effort of talking makes your head spin. Rex shakes his head.

"No, you're not." Rex sighs and presses a damp cloth to your forehead. It's cool and soothing, and the pain begins to ease a little. "Just give it a minute."

"Rex..."

"He's okay. I promise." He smiles at you, but it’s forced, and there's a sadness in his eyes that makes your heart twist. "But he's not doing well. We're all gonna need some time."

Your heart sinks. You know what that means. Rex is telling you that Wrecker needs space. That he's not himself. That he's ashamed and guilty and doesn't want to face you. It hurts. More than the physical pain, more than the headache, the exhaustion, and the fear, it's a deeper, sharper kind of pain. The kind that cuts to the bone, and you can feel tears stinging the corners of your eyes.

"I understand," you say, and you hate the way your voice cracks.

Rex's smile falters, and the sadness in his eyes intensifies.

"Hey, now," he murmurs. "It'll be okay."

"No. It won't." Your voice is thick, and the tears are flowing freely now. You can't stop them. You don't even try. Rex pulls you into his arms, and you bury your face in his shoulder, sobbing.

"He tried to kill me," you choke out. "He... He was going to..."

Rex holds you, and he doesn't say a word. He doesn't have to. The pain is written all over his face, and he knows exactly what you're going through. He was there. He watched Wrecker lose control, and he had to watch him almost kill the woman he loves. He had to watch him almost kill his friend.

"I'm so sorry," Rex whispers. He holds you close, and his hand moves gently up and down your back, soothing you. "I'm so sorry."

You cry until your throat is raw and your lungs are burning, and when the tears finally stop, you're exhausted. Your body is limp, and your head is pounding. You lean against Rex, and his arms tighten around you.

"Come on," he murmurs. "Let's get you up."

He helps you to your feet, and you wince. Every muscle in your body is aching, your throat is sore, and the wound on the back of your head is throbbing. You feel weak, and the ground seems to sway under your feet. Rex holds you steady while the feeling slowly fades.

"I've got you," he says. Then, slowly, he leads you towards the medbay. You lean against him, and with each step, you can feel the guilt and shame and anger radiating off him in waves. It's overwhelming, and it makes your heart ache.

"Rex," you murmur. "Are you alright?"

"No," he admits. "But I will be."

"I'm so sorry," you whisper.

"It's not your fault," he says, but you can hear the bitterness in his voice, and the resentment. He blames himself for what happened. He's taking the weight of the entire situation on his shoulders.

You want to tell him that it's not his fault, either, but you're too tired. So you lean against him, and let him guide you to the medbay.

The door is open, and Tech is inside, tending to a  cut on Hunter’s face. Echo is helping, and Omega is sitting in the corner, her knees drawn up to her chest. She looks exhausted, tears staining her cheeks, but her face brightens when she sees you. 

She scrambles to her feet and rushes towards you, throwing her arms around your waist. The impact sends a shock of pain through your ribs, but you bite your lip and hide your wince. She's clinging to you like a lifeline, and you can feel the tremor in her body as she tries not to cry. You hold her close, stroking her hair, and the ache in your heart deepens.

"Hey," you murmur. "You alright?"

Omega nods against you, her fingers digging into the back of your tunic.

"Are you?" she whispers.

"Yeah," you lie. "I'm okay."

"You're not," she says, and the hurt in her voice is enough to make your throat tighten. "But it's okay. We're here."

She hugs you tighter, and you lean into the embrace, your heart aching. You wish it was as simple as that, but nothing is. Nothing will be. Not for a long time. Maybe not ever. You hold her close, closing your eyes, and her presence in the Force is warm and bright, just like always. 

You let yourself get lost in it, and the pain begins to ebb, if only a little, before you open your eyes again.

"Where's Wrecker?" you ask. Your voice is soft, but everyone in the room hears it and the tension is palpable. They exchange glances, their expressions grim.

"He's resting," Tech says carefully. "His injuries are relatively minor, and the surgery was successful, but his mental state is... concerning."

You swallow hard. You knew it was bad, but hearing Tech say it out loud is different. It makes it real, and the weight of that reality is suffocating. You take a shaky breath and nod, but the tears are threatening again, and your voice is unsteady.

"Can I see him?"

"He doesn't want to see anyone," Echo says. His voice is low, his words measured. He's... He's not himself. Not yet."

"I know." Your voice cracks. "I just... I want him to know that I'm here. That I care. That I..."

"Give him time," Hunter murmurs, his expression pained. "He's not in a good place."

"But I—"

"No." Rex's tone is gentle, but firm. "It's not a good idea. Trust me. He needs space. He needs to figure out how to live with what he did."

"It wasn't him," you protest, but even as you say it, you know that it's not entirely true. It was him. Just not the him you know.

"I know," he says. "But it was his hands that almost killed you. And that's hard to come to terms with."

You swallow hard and nod. You know he's right, but it doesn't make it any easier. It doesn't ease the pain in your chest or the ache in your head. You want to see him, to talk to him, but you know it's not what he needs. It's not what you need.

You let out a shuddering breath, your shoulders sagging. You're exhausted, and the world is spinning, and all you want to do is collapse into a ball and cry.

Tech approaches, and he hesitates for a moment before his hand settles gently on your shoulder. His eyes are sympathetic, but the frown on his face is deep, his expression troubled.

"How are you feeling?" he asks.

"I'm okay," you answer. The lie comes easily, almost automatically. It's a reflex. One that has been well-honed over the years, but one that's not very convincing. Not anymore.

He nods and studies you for a moment. Then, he glances at Rex.

"Help her onto the cot," he says. "I'll do a quick examination and treat her injuries."

"No," you protest. "I'm fine. I just need to sleep."

"You're not fine," Rex counters. He's not unkind, but his tone leaves no room for argument. "You were attacked, and you have a head injury. We need to make sure that you're okay."

"I am. Really."

"We need to make sure," Tech insists.

"I'm not—"

"You're getting checked out," Rex says firmly. "And that's final."

You open your mouth to argue, but the words die on your lips. You know he's right. Your entire body aches, and every breath is painful. You're not fine. You know it. But the idea of hearing it from someone else is too much. It's too real.

Rex gently guides you towards the cot, his arm around your waist, and you let him. There's no point in fighting, not when the others are worried about you. So you let him help you onto the bed, and Omega sits next to you, her small hand finding yours.

Tech begins his examination, and Rex hovers nearby, watching closely. You feel small and fragile and weak, and it's a strange feeling. You're used to being strong, to fighting your own battles. But now, you can barely stand on your own. It's a reminder of how fragile you really are, and it makes your chest tighten. No matter how good of a Jedi you can claim to be, it's impossible to ignore that the only reason you're alive is because Rex stepped in and saved your life.

"You have a mild concussion," Tech reports, and his words pull you out of your thoughts. "Several bruised ribs, and multiple contusions." He pauses, and his gaze shifts to your throat. "And those bruises will need time to heal."

Your hand reaches up, and you touch the spot where Wrecker had been holding you. The skin is tender, and the contact makes you wince.

"Yeah," Rex says, anger clear in his voice. "That's going to be a tough one to cover up."

You look away.

"It could have been worse," Tech points out.

"It was bad enough,” he snaps. When you flinch, Rex's eyes widen, regret flickering across his features. "Sorry. I didn't mean..."

"It’s okay." Your voice is quiet, almost a whisper. You swallow, but the lump in your throat remains. "I know."

Tech moves to examine the bruise on your stomach, his touch gentle.

"We can apply bacta to the worst of the bruises," Tech offers. "That will help with the healing process."

You nod, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything. You close your eyes and try not to think about it. About the way Wrecker had been staring at you. The coldness in his eyes. The rage. The hatred. The way his hands had tightened around your throat. The way he had been intent on killing you.

"Can I help you?"

Tech's voice is soft, and he sounds unsure of himself. It's such a stark contrast to his usual confidence, and it makes your chest tighten. This is hard for him, too. Hard for all of them.

"I'm okay," you murmur. "Really."

"You don’t have to be," Tech says. His tone is gentle, but there's an edge to it. “We understand, and we'll do our best to make sure that you're taken care of."

You open your eyes and look at him, and the sympathy in his gaze makes you want to cry. You don't want to be the one everyone's worrying about. You don't want to be the helpless victim, the one who needs to be coddled and comforted. You're a Jedi. You're supposed to be the one taking care of others, not the other way around.

But there's nothing you can do. Nothing you can say. So you nod, letting the tears spill down your cheeks, and Tech places a hand on your shoulder.

"Thank you," you whisper, and the words come out sounding more like a sob.

"Of course," Tech replies, and there's an unfamiliar warmth in his voice. "You're one of us, and we take care of our own."

He turns back to his instruments, and you lay down, resting your head on the pillow. The medbay is quiet, save for the soft beeps and whirrs of the machines, and the familiar sounds are oddly comforting. Tech continues to examine and treat you, his movements careful and precise. He works silently, and the others are gathered nearby, their attention focused on you. It's strange, but it feels nice, being the center of their concern. It makes you feel safe, and it eases some of the pain and fear and uncertainty.

You're surrounded by your family. By the people who love you and care about you. And as the exhaustion overwhelms you, and the pain fades into a dull ache, you realize that's all that really matters. You may not be fine, but you're alive, and you have people that care about you. And that's more than some can say.

It's been three days since the chip incident, and things are... strained. You've barely seen Wrecker, and when you have, he hasn't said a word. He won't look at you. He won't even be in the same room as you. It hurts, but you're trying to be patient. Trying to give him the space he needs. But it's hard, and every day, the ache in your chest grows a little bit stronger.

You'd hesitated to say goodbye to Rex, and he'd again offered to take you with him. To keep you safe, to give you a place to heal. And again, you'd refused, promising him that things would be okay. And they would. You're certain. They had to be. 

But the entire time you'd spoken to him in hushed whispers, you could feel Wrecker's eyes on you. When you'd finally pulled away from Rex to board the Marauder, Wrecker had turned on his heel, disappearing into the ship without a word. He hadn't so much as glanced at you, let alone said anything.

The pain of that had cut deeper than the bruises on your throat, but you'd hidden it, plastering a smile on your face for the others, even though they all knew better.

The daring escape you'd made from Bracca had only served to complicate matters, and the entire team was on edge after encountering Crosshair again. The tension in the air is thick, and it seems like everyone is walking on eggshells, afraid of setting someone off. 

It's a far cry from the usual banter, teasing, and camaraderie that's typical aboard the ship, and the only sounds are the hum of the engine and the occasional beep from the instrument panel.

No one has spoken in hours, and the silence is oppressive. You haven't left your bunk since that morning, the high vantage point allowing you to see everything without having to interact with anyone.

It's lonely, but it's also safe.

No one bothers you, and you're free to let your mind wander. You watch the others, and the sight of them fills you with a strange mixture of emotions. You're proud of them, and the love you feel for them is almost overwhelming. But there's also a sense of loss.

What happened was a reminder that everything could change in an instant, and you're not ready for that. You're not ready to lose any of them. Not when they're the only family you have left.

You close your eyes, drawing in a deep breath, and let the feeling wash over you. It's a bittersweet sort of sorrow, and it makes your heart ache. You know that they're not going anywhere, that the five of them are a force to be reckoned with, but you can't help the anxiety that lingers, the fear that something might go wrong. You've already lost so much. You can't lose them, too.

The sound of footsteps approaching the bunk pulls you from your thoughts, and you open your eyes, expecting to see Echo. But the figure in the doorway isn't him.

"I'm sorry."

Wrecker's voice is barely a whisper, but it's loud enough to startle you, and you sit up, wincing as your ribs protest. He’s standing below, looking up at you with his mismatched eyes. His eyes are wide and pleading, and he's fidgeting, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. You can tell he's nervous, but there's a hint of something else, too. Sadness. Guilt. Shame.

"It's okay," you say automatically, but the words feel hollow.

"No. It's not." His voice is low, and there's an edge of desperation to it, and his hands squeeze into fists. You can feel the anger radiating off him, and it makes your blood run cold. He looks like he wants to punch a hole in the wall, and you have no doubt that he could if he wanted to. He could tear the whole ship apart. He could tear you apart.

You swallow, but your throat is dry, and the fear is starting to build.

"I could have killed you," Wrecker continues, his voice shaking. “I... I wanted to kill you. I was gonna..."

He trails off, unable to finish the sentence, and his shoulders slump. The anger fades, and the shame is so intense that you feel it like a physical blow. Wrecker closes his eyes and runs a hand over his face, his shoulders trembling.

"I tried to kill my own brothers," he says, and his voice cracks. "And I... I almost..."

He takes a shaky breath, tears stinging the corners of his eyes, and he shakes his head. You're at a loss for words, and all you can do is watch him struggle with the weight of his emotions. You want to say something, to offer some kind of comfort, but you can't. You're just as broken as he is.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, and his voice is thick with emotion. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Wrecker..."

He looks up at you, and the raw anguish in his eyes makes your heart twist.

"Wrecker, please, it's okay. I know it wasn't—"

"No. It's not." He shakes his head, his expression pained. "It wasn't me. But it was."

You open your mouth to argue, but he holds up a hand, cutting you off.

"I remember everything. I remember wanting to hurt you. I remember how good it felt. How right." His eyes darken, his lips curling into a snarl. "I'm a monster."

"No, Wrecker," you insist. "No. You're not."

"Yes, I am."

"You're not," you repeat, more firmly this time. You haven’t used the Force in days, but it flows through you now, warm and reassuring, and you can feel the conviction in your own words. "You're a good man. You're not a monster. I saw you try to fight it. I saw the struggle. I know what's in your heart. And it's not evil."

"I should have fought harder." His fists clench, and he hangs his head. "I'm supposed to protect you, but I... I'm the one who tried to..."

"Wrecker."

Your voice is sharp, but he doesn't respond. He's lost in his own guilt, his own self-loathing, and the weight of it is crushing him.

"Please, Wrecker, stop." You slide off the bunk, landing lightly on your feet, and you approach him, reaching for his hands. He pulls away, and it feels like a knife in your heart. "You don't have to apologize. I'm not mad at you. I'm worried about you."

"You should be." His voice is flat, his words coming out in a growl. "I tried to kill you."

"But you didn't."

"I would have." He turns away from you, his jaw clenched, his shoulders tense. "If Rex hadn't stepped in, I would have."

You reach out, laying a hand on his arm, but he flinches, jerking away from your touch. It's a rejection, plain and simple, but it's not unexpected. He's pulling away, both physically and emotionally, and it's tearing you apart.

"Don't," he says. "Just don't."

"Please," you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. "Please, talk to me."

"What's there to talk about?" He sounds bitter, defeated, but he doesn't pull away this time. "I'm a monster."

"No, you're not," you insist. "You're my hero."

"Don't say that," he mutters.

"It's true. You are.” He starts to speak again, but you’re faster, and your words cut him off. "You saved my life. Over and over again. You've never given up on me, even when the odds were stacked against us. You've always been there for me, no matter what."

He doesn't say anything, but you can tell that your words are affecting him. His shoulders are hunched, his body tense, but there's a tremor in his muscles, a slight shudder. You step closer, pressing yourself against his back, and you wrap your arms around his waist. You hold him tight, your fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt, and you rest your forehead between his shoulder blades.

"I trust you, Wrecker. I know you'd never hurt me willingly. And the truth is, I could've fought back. I could've stopped you. But I didn't. Because I trust you. I trust you with my life. And I always will."

He stiffens, his breath hitching.

"You're not a monster," you continue. "You're not a liability. You're my boyfriend, and you're my best friend. And I'm not afraid of you."

You press a kiss between his shoulder blades, lingering there for a moment. Your throat is tight, your heart racing, and you're filled with an overwhelming sense of affection and devotion. The feelings are strong, almost overwhelming, and you don't try to push them down. You don't try to hide them. You just let them flow through you, let them fill the space between the two of you. 

You've held them back for so long, afraid to show your feelings, afraid to let yourself be vulnerable, but now, the dam has broken, and you're drowning in the intensity of your emotions. There's a warmth spreading through your chest, a kind of peace that you've never felt before, and it's almost euphoric. It's like the first breath after surfacing from a deep dive, and the air is sweet, filling your lungs.

"I love you, Wrecker," you murmur.

"Don't," he growls, but the tension is gone from his body, his muscles relaxing under your touch. He leans back against you, his head dropping forward, his eyes closed.

"I do," you say softly. "I love you. And I'm not afraid."

You hold him, the two of you locked together, neither of you willing to move, afraid that the moment will end. He's trembling, his breathing shallow, his fingers curling around your arms, but he doesn't pull away. He doesn't reject you.

"I trust you," you whisper. "I love you. And nothing will ever change that."

There's a long, heavy silence, and then, finally, he speaks.

"I love you, too."

It's barely a whisper, but the words are clear, and the weight of them makes your heart soar. You tighten your arms around his waist, burying your face in his back, and you feel the tears stinging the corners of your eyes. You’re so happy that it almost hurts, the emotions swelling in your chest, making it difficult to breathe. It feels like you're floating, the weight of everything finally lifted.

“I love you so much,” he mutters. “More than anything. But you should be with someone else. Someone safer. Someone who won't..."

"Wrecker, stop." Your voice is firm, and you squeeze him, making him gasp. "I don't want anyone else. I want you."

He takes a shaky breath, his hands moving down your arms until his fingers are laced with yours. He squeezes, his grip gentle, and you squeeze back.

"I don't deserve you," he says.

"Yes, you do."

Wrecker lets go of your hands, turning to face you, his gaze meeting yours. His eyes are wet, tears streaking his cheeks, but there's a softness in his expression that you haven't seen in a while. He reaches out, cupping your face, his thumb stroking your cheek.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I'm so sorry."

"Stop apologizing," you chide gently, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I told you, it's okay."

"But—"

You shake your head, placing a finger over his lips.

"Enough." Your voice is soft, but stern. "No more talking."

His brow furrows, confusion flickering across his features. Then, he gets it, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He nods, leaning down, his lips brushing against yours.

The kiss is soft, almost tentative, but there's an underlying hunger, a need that makes your skin tingle. You press closer, your arms winding around his neck, the kiss deepening, his tongue sweeping across your bottom lip.

He tastes like salt, the tears still drying on his cheeks, and the familiarity is comforting, soothing the ache in your heart. He's home. He's safe. And he loves you. Nothing else matters.

The kiss ends, the two of you gasping for breath, but you don't pull away. You stay close, your foreheads touching, his fingers tangling in your hair.

"I missed you," he murmurs.

"Me, too." You nuzzle his nose, your hands stroking his cheeks. "So much."

"M’sorry."

"I know.” You press a kiss to the tip of his nose, your fingers caressing the back of his neck. "But you're not responsible for this. None of us are. The only person to blame is the one who put the chips in your heads. You can't be held responsible for what they did."

"I know, but..."

"But nothing," you say, your tone firm. "You're a victim, Wrecker. Just like the rest of us."

He sighs, his shoulders slumping, the tension draining from his body. He's still upset, the guilt is still there, but you can feel it ebbing, the darkness fading.

"I don't blame you. None of us do,” you continue. "We're all just happy that we have you back. We're a family. We take care of each other."

Wrecker gives a small nod, the sadness in his eyes fading a little, replaced by something else. Something warmer, more hopeful.

"You're my family," he says, his voice rough with emotion. "My brothers. Omega. And you."

He pulls you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you, holding you close. "And I will never stop taking care of you. No matter what."

You bury your face in his shoulder, squeezing him tight. You can feel the tears building again, but they're different this time. They're not a product of pain or loss or fear. They're tears of happiness, of relief, of love. You close your eyes, letting the feeling wash over you, letting yourself get lost in it. You've come so far, endured so much, but here, in his arms, you're finally home.

Wrecker's fingers curl into the back of your shirt, his breathing shallow, his face buried in your hair.

"Thank you," he whispers, his voice thick.

"For what?"

"For not giving up on me."

You pull away, looking up at him, a smile on your lips.

"Never."

He smiles back, the expression brightening his entire face. You can't remember the last time you've seen him look this happy, and the sight fills you with a warm glow. This is where you belong, where you've always belonged. With him. With your family.

You kiss him, long and slow and tender, and when the kiss breaks, the two of you are both gasping for breath, the flush high on your cheeks.

"I love you," he whispers, his voice rough.

"I love you, too." You reach up, tracing his jawline with your fingertips, your eyes meeting his.

"More than anything," he continues. "And I promise, I'll never let anyone hurt you. Never again."

His voice is thick with emotion, and there's a fierceness in his gaze, a protectiveness that makes your heart skip a beat. He means it. He'll keep you safe, no matter the cost. And knowing that, believing that, fills you with an overwhelming sense of comfort. It eases the pain, the fear, the anxiety, and for the first time in weeks, you feel... whole.

You're safe. You're loved. You're home. And no matter what happens, no matter how hard things get, that will never change.

"I know." You lean up, brushing your lips against his, and his arms tighten around you. "And I'm not going anywhere. Not ever."

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @qvnthesia

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@silly-starfish @floofyroro

[paper-mario-wiki]

"no art is good bc it's a misconfiguration of the natural world to suit man's vanity" Is an extremely misanthropic take on art. Is humanity not part of "the natural world"? Can one not make pigments from flowers or minerals? You say that the universe would never align so that a piece of art is made without human intervention, but the universe did align so that it could be made, you just assume humans aren't part of it. I understand that this is some faux-deep shit I'm on, but I love art and while I think good is kind of useless adjective when talking about art in general, to compare the concept of art to a tumor is a pretty bad faith take. Sorry if that was like, ironic or something and I just sent a rant into your inbox for nothing.

your faux-deep shit could never reach the faux-depths of my even shallower faux-deepness.

i think the main problem when establishing this argument in the first place was saying "all art is bad" because someone asked me if i liked any bad art, and i answered using "bad" as a shorthand for "not good". if i had known i'd be getting into this pedantic of an argument about it i definitely would have changed my wording, because things that are "not good" are not inherently "bad", which seems to be where the majority of the misunderstandings of my stance come from.

i'd ask you this: what could be considered "good" outside of something that affects humanity in some capacity? to be clear, you're absolutely right, humans ARE natural, humans ARE part of the world. but the idea of something being "good" didn't exist until humans came up with it.

100,000,000,000,000,000 light years away, two planets crash into each other, each with their own forms of biological life so different from earth's that we would find it difficult to even classify it as life if we were given the chance to observe it, but that doesn't matter because we would have never been given the opportunity to reach those planets anyway under any circumstances. is this a good thing? is it a bad thing? i don't think it's either, it's just something that happened.

because "good" and "bad" are code words used to reflect the societal values of the person using them, they cannot exist in a vacuum.

so if that's the case, and "good" and "bad" only exist to us, what does it mean to us?

well, something "good" is something with objective benefit or subjective enjoyment-- but subjective enjoyment of something can also contradict the nature of its objectivity. soup can be considered "good" because it sustains us and is therefore beneficial. soup can be considered to "taste good" because someone might enjoy the flavor. but "torture" can only be seen as "enjoyable", but it benefits nobody-- even if the person doing it enjoys it. that's just them subjectively enjoying it.

conversely, something can be objectively good but still subjectively unenjoyable, like having a soup that's healthy in a way you think tastes bad! you'd still benefit from it, even if you didn't enjoy the experience. but regardless of whether or not you enjoyed it, what has the greatest bearing on something being considered "good" is its objectivity, as it's something fewer people can debate.

now, all of that being considered, what can "art" do that is objectively good, without it serving some secondary purpose? something that is objectively good can be artistically created, like a children's hospital designed by a genius architect-- but its goodness in that case would be derived from its benefit, with the subjectivity of it being something that only enhances its good.

a piece of fabric, stretched across a wooden frame and painted using colorful oils, creates no benefit objectively, it exists solely in the world of subjectivity. how can something be "good" if the only thing it does is hold the potential (not the guarantee) for a person to look at it, and enjoy looking at it?

more importantly though, is that bad? it's not.

but it is superfluous.

^ please forgive me for typing all of this. im so sorry. it's just so easy to be pedantic. i promise im not a stick in the mud and i love art, i just also happen to be someone who is personally deeply concerned with rhetorically whittling communication down to the bare knob of its meaning (XRA style).

because it is something i find subjectively enjoyable.

[redsrooftopprincess]

I love absolutely everything you've posted for Raph, and I was reading through your disability HC again, and if you have time. Could you do a small fic or headcanons of Raphael getting a massage from his beautiful to help relieve some of his pain?

I'M SO SORRY I tried to write this THREE TIMES THREE DIFFERENT WAYS and make it sweet and heartfelt....

But the boy wanted smut.

Where There's Smoke

Fem reader x Raphael

🌶️🌶️🌶️

Warnings: marijuana, smut

If you're a minor *makes a shooing motion* go'way.

The cloud you exhale hangs in the air, curling around the lamplight. You sit in the warm comfort of your apartment, sat sideways, legs draped over Raphael's lap on the loveseat. He reaches over and plucks the joint from your outstretched hand.

"mmm..." you say, smiling, as he takes a long drag. You lean your head against the back of the couch, and close your eyes with a sigh, as the indica flows through your system and washes away a truly shitty week.

When you open them, he is exhaling nearly half the joint. You laugh and wave the smoke out of your face. It look a lot to get the turtles high. Mike and Donnie were still working on a strain powerful enough to do the job, but it was slow going and more of a fun pet project than a priority.

However, you know better than to take more than one *small* hit of the boys' weed. You only had to make that mistake once.

You love nights like this. His very rare nights off, when it's just the two of you hanging out in your apartment. When you could convince him to smoke with you it was even better, because, for a few hours, his pain was a little more manageable.

You swing your legs off of him and he groans quietly when you push off of his thigh to stand up. "Shit! I'm sorry! Are you okay?"

He laughs gently, "Yeah. No, it's fine. Felt good, actually." He sighs, "Rough week."

You tilt your head to the side and look down at him for a moment before your eyes narrow the corner of your mouth turns up slowly. He knows that look. You have an idea.

He's a little more than slightly worried as he watches you dash out of the living room and down the hall into the bathroom. There is a reason you and Donnie are best friends. This could go in literally any direction. You return a few moments later with a bottle in hand.

You walk around to the front of the couch and, tug on his jeans, "Lose 'em," you say. It wasn't weird for him to get comfortable at your house. You'd patched him up enough times that seeing him in his underwear was pretty normal.

You set down the bottle of lotion on the coffee table, and walk away to grab a towel. He squeezes his eyes shut and rubs his forehead when the realization hits him. "(Y/N), you really don't have to do this."

You ignore him, and return, setting the towel on the table.

He sighs, sitting up, "Seriously, (Y/N) you don't have to do this -"

"Shut up." You say firmly, but not unkindly, looking up from what you're doing. His beak snaps shut. You didn't get firm with him often, so when you did, he paid attention. "You do everything for everyone else, let someone take care of you for once." The gaze you held had no room for argument, and he sighs and stands up, removing his jeans. He gives you an exasperated look during the entire process.

You can't help but steal a glance at his thighs as he sits back down. The way the muscles move beneath his scarred scales makes your mouth water.

To say you are holding a torch for the terrapin would be a lie. It's more like a barely controlled forest fire. He was beautiful in so many ways, and if it didn't make him so uncomfortable you would compliment his body more often.

You instruct him to rest one foot on the coffee table and you straddle his leg, knowing that making any kind of difference was going to require a lot more strength than was in your hands.

"Y/N..."

You reach forward and flick the middle of his forehead without looking, while you snatch the bottle off of the coffee table with your other hand.

"Ow! Hey! What the hell was that for?!" He exclaims, rubbing his head.

"I heard you the first time," you say casually, not looking up from pouring the lotion into your palm.

You rub lotion between your hands to warm it up, before pressing your hands down just above his knee and using nearly your entire weight to push along his quad.

"mmm fuck..." He groans, sinking back further in the couch, no longer interested in protesting as his eyes fall closed. You press your lips together, trying to ignore how hot that was and failing miserably.

In your intoxicated state, you may not have thought this whole thing through.

You had been growing closer. You're not sure when it happened, but touches have become softer, hugs longer. You drift to each other's side, even if you start out on opposite ends of a room. It was something both of you noticed, and neither of you acknowledged.

Your friendship has continued as if nothing has changed, but mundane moments are becoming more intimate, and intimate moments more frequent, and right now you were straddling his thigh and the soft groans and sighs you were pulling from him with every ministration were doing nothing for your composure.

Between the weed and the massage, this is the most relaxed he's felt in a while. He thinks to himself that he's going to have to do something really nice for you later.

You, however, are experiencing the exact opposite effect. The drug has made your body more sensitive, and with every brush of his leg between yours as you move along his thigh, ripples of sensation move up and out. You really hope he's too high to notice you shiver.

He shifts his weight, raising his leg, and accidentally brushing against your core. The small sound that escapes you makes both of you freeze.

That tiny sound, barely louder than a whisper had gone off like a gun shot in his head, shutting down every other one of his senses that wasn't completely honed in on you. There was no way that actually just happened, right?

He looks down at you, while you look away, face burning. There's no way he doesn't know your into him now, and now you've made things weird and awkward. You try to come up with a way to brush off what just happened, terrified of what he must think of you.

The only thing he's thinking is that whatever he has to do to get you to make that sound again, he's gonna to do it. And then he's gonna do it again.

Taking your chin in his hand, he turns you to face him as he places the other on your waist. Holding your gaze with a curious expression, your heart pounds as he pulls his leg off the table so that his foot is on the floor.

He flexes, his thigh pressing into you, and you shut your eyes, drawing a shuddering breath as you feel a flood of warmth at your core. You scent blooms upward into him and his grip around your waist tightens, while his other hand also falls to your waist. When you open your eyes, he is looking down at you with a dark smirk. That was all the validation he needed.

He pulls you up and then back against his thigh, watching your eyes fall closed and your mouth fall open. Your breathing stutters as your hips involuntarily rock against him. When he presses up harder against you, a moan is torn from your throat and you have to brace yourself on his leg.

He grabs the leg in between his own and pulls you up and it over, so that you're straddling his waist. He crashes his lips to yours, the weed making everything hazy and dream-like, and you open to him gladly, tangling his tongue with your own.

His hands slide up your waist, and you only separate for a moment, to help him remove your shirt, before crashing back into him like a wave. When you rock your hips against the growing bulge in his boxer briefs, his mouth is ripped from yours in a groan.

You reach for him, almost desperately, to bring his mouth back to yours, but he removes his hands from your waist and places them on your shoulders to stop you, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

"Wait... Sweetheart..." He's panting and trembling and it's taking all his restraint to not buck his hips into you, "If we keep going, this is gonna happen... And I need to know it's not just the weed. That this is really what you want..."

He looks at you and everything in him was screaming to just take you. You've wanted her since the day you met. She's ready. She's *more* than willing... but he's not an animal. And if it's not what you actually want it would ruin your friendship.

You look up at him in disbelief, also trembling. Sliding a hand to the back of his neck, you pull him down to you, brushing your lips against his with a whispered, "It is."

You're not sure when or how you ended up against the wall, with him grinding his thigh against your cunt, but you are not complaining. In fact, the only intelligible thought screaming through your veins at the moment is

MORE.

You grind hard against him, clenching around nothing, and in a moment it feels like you might drown in the emptiness. You whimper into his mouth. "Raph... Please..."

He doesn't need to be asked twice. He carries you to your bedroom, his mouth never leaving yours, and lays you on the bed. Detaching your legs from him he grabs the waistband of your cotton shorts and and removes them and your soaked panties in one motion

He looks at you, for just a moment, naked and trembling and wanting HIM, and he commits the sight to memory, before smirking like the devil and diving in like a man starved.

"Fuck! " you cry, arching, as he licks a stripe up your cunt, drinking your arousal like wine, savoring you on his tongue. You're already so sensitive. His tongue swirls around your clit and you shudder as pleasure ripples through your body.

He licks up your slit again and again, before pulling your thighs further apart and fucking you with his tongue. The soft feeling of his tongue curling inside you lights up your nervous system like a Christmas tree, and soon you're a trembling, whimpering mess.

You almost protest as his tongue leaves you, but it's quickly replaced by an oversized digit pushing into you slowly. His tongue returns to your clit, swirling and sucking, devouring you as the cord inside your center winds tighter.

Curling his finger up, and finding that secret spot inside of you, you feel as though you'd fall apart if he wasn't holding you together.

The cord pulls tight, and with a gasp, snaps. You come undone. With your hand on the back of his head, your moans ricocheting off the walls, you ride out your release.

You come back to consciousness as he's crawling up your body, having removed the last barrier between you. He attacks your throat, licking and scenting, giving you no time to recover, his instincts screaming for him to mark you as HIS.

His lips return to yours as he slides his own arousal against your folds, coating himself in your slick. He moans softly at your warmth and finally starts pushing into you slowly.

The way he stretches you fills you completely, and every inch feels like embers scattering through your body. You wrap your arms around his neck and press your forehead to his, whimpering and shuddering as he bottoms out.

He stills for a moment, trembling, attempting to control this breathing, not wanting this to be over before it starts.

With a shuddering breath he moves so slowly, pulling all the way out before returning to sheathe himself inside of you. He gradually finds his rhythm, and you move together pushing and pulling like a bellows, feeding the scattered sparks inside you.

He slides a hand under your thigh, hitching it up to go deeper.

As his speed increases, the embers catch inside your skin and set you alight. It almost feels like you can't breath for the fire in your veins, but you are somehow able to moan his name, so you're probably okay.

Keening moans escape you, and he swallows them greedily, kissing you with everything he has and everything he's ever wanted. Kissing you as if by doing so he could convince you to stay like this forever.

You feel your release building, and by the stuttering groans and whispers of your name, you can tell his isnt far behind.

You reach up and touch his face, and he lifts his head to look at you, never slowing. You wanted him to see, to know that you were there with him, that you were his.

You gasp, and with a cry you arch into him as the fire consumes you. He wraps an arm around you, holding you against him as he follows suit, moaning your name into your shoulder as he spills himself into you.

After a moment to catch your breath, you shiver as he pulls himself from you. Lying on his side to face you, he reaches out and pulls you to him holding you, breathless, as you both come down from your high.

Foreheads touching, eyes closed, you just breath each other in, both of you in kind-of-but-not-really disbelief.

He lifts his head and looks down at you. You open your eyes to meet his, and they shine with affection and gratitude and maybe something deeper, but that was a conversion for a different day.

"So..." he says softly, "when are we gonna do the other leg?" He grins as you laugh and slap him half-heartedly on the chest.

"You're a dick."

"You love it."

.....

He's not wrong.

.....

Tag list:

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll

[icycoldninja]

Dating Gojo headcannons

A/N: I was watching jjk at 2 am as I tend to do and was hit with inspiration. Naturally, I wrote it down.

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

-First of all, do not let your delulu nature consume you. Gojo is not going to be the perfect boyfriend.

-He's hardly ever at home thanks to those goddamn curses, and when he is, he's busy showering, taking his daily 3 hour nap, or just trying to relax. You might not even see him, since it'll be so late.

-Sometimes he'll bully you by stealing your stuff and never returning it, eating all your food, and literally kicking you out of your own bed at night.

-He'll let you come with him on missions because he knows he's the strongest and can protect you from any danger, though he does want you to have a little training first, just in case.

-Will bring you back souvenirs, but never snacks. Why? Cause he ends up eating them all while travelling home.

-Bothers you day and night over the stupidest things ever. For example, he will send you a text message at 3 AM alongside picture of two frogs just chilling together with the caption "This is us", then 15 minutes later, call you so you can hear him pee in this one public bathroom he found that has "great acoustics".

-You guys are prank buddies for sure. Megumi will have an aneurysm followed by a nervous breakdown one of these days.

-He will love you forever if you can make him mochi (or desserts in general) whenever he wants some.

-Will use Infinity against you in an argument by monopolizing cuddles. 5 minutes of shouting at him equals 5 hours without a single hug. It sounds easy to handle, but after you get used to being bombarded with his annoying attempts to get your attention and all of sudden it's ripped away, you're left in shock.

-Still, there are some upsides to dating him. Having a human Barbie doll to dress up is one of them.

-He'll wear whatever you want him to, whenever you want him to, experiencing no shame whatsoever. Want to go to a party in matching dresses? Done and done. Do you desire to see him in your lingerie? He can do that too.

-Sometimes makes you carry him around bridal style because...well...no one really knows why. He just seems to like it.

-If you listen carefully at the door while he's showering, you might hear one of two things: singing or sobbing.

-He loves to dance with you, and if you are the type who doesn't know how to dance or doesn't want to dance in front of others, good luck.

-Talks to you nonstop because he's an uncontrollable chatterbox, even worse than he is in public. He'll talk with you, at you, about you, and around you--there's no way to get him to shut up, don't even try.

-Sometimes these chats get dark, really dark, especially if he's been rambling for a while.

-All in all, Gojo can be a lot of fun at times, and at others, a huge pain in the ass, whereas on rare occasions he will be a sad little marshmallow that you need to pamper and cuddle. Just make sure you take good care of him, and he will repay the favor tenfold.

[derpydoteddrake]

An analisis on the symbolism of this shot and what it means for Jayce and Viktor

(this does not contain any le*ks, only material that has been officially released so far.)

But first to understand what this shot means, his connection to the new magic and how this relates to his relationship with Viktor, we need to look at what his bracelet represents.

He got the crystal for his bracelet by a mage who saved him from an impossible situation, this implanted in him a lifelong obsession with the idea that if he could give this tool to people, he could greatly improve the lives of many.

But since he knew they would not allow experiments like this in Piltover in normal circumstances, he needed to do it in secret. This is what at that moment the bracelet represents.

His conviction is so strong, this goal is so important to him that he made the reminder of that fateful encounter something that he can not just carry, but wear it on himself everywhere he goes. However it is hidden, the same way he needs to hide his research.

But then he is found out, his research is going to be destroyed, and he loses all hope in completing his dream. So he takes the bracelet off, as a symbol on how he is given up. But then Viktor comes into the picture.

He gives his bracelet back and with it his hope for his dream, it's no longer something he has to burden himself alone, it's not just Jayces dream anymore, and so he declares: our hextech dream.

And this gesture and this declaration changes the meaning behind this bracelet, it's not just a symbol of his dream anymore, it's now a symbol of their shared dream of helping people and in turn their relationship and partnership.

This thematic connection is later emphasized when he complains about being useless in the face of Viktors illness and his frustration about not being able to develop the technology he wants to and he reflexively tuches it.

And after he no longer needs to hide it and he can fully pursue his dream, he puts it on proud display, he turns the crystal upside down and even has clothing that lets his bracelet show, he is proud of they work and he shows that off.

But in the shot we got for the crystal to embed itself in that way, he needed to turn the bracelet upside down. And why would he do that? Well, he would need to be so disillusioned with their dream, so ashamed of letting Viktor down that he doesn't even want to be reminded of it.

I dont think it's a controversial thing to say that Jayce will have a chance to destroy the core and he won't, which initially Viktor will be mad about, but later allow Viktor to do his shenanigans with it. Thematically that would make sense.

But the bracelet isn't just worn in a different way, that would be reversible, the crystal is literally burned into him with a crack in the middle. It is irreversible. What does that symbolize?

Easy, they didn't just lost they dream,

THEY DREAM IS DEAD

The crystal is no longer a symbol of his hopes and dreams and a wonderful relationship, It is a symbol of his failure to do good with hextech, broken promises, and letting down his closest friend.

it is grotesquely melted into him forever, a reminder how he cannot escape the reality he helped create. Giving hextech to people is no longer a dream, it is real and it's a nightmare, he didn't improve anyone's lives who needed it, he made weapons to oppress.

And the gem is cracked in the middle, mirroring his broken relationship with Viktor, the man he let down over and over again, he wasn't there when he needed him, he went against his will and made weapons, and he failed to fulfill his promise to him.

Since we saw Viktor will gain the ability the transform people, I would teorise that he will be the one who will melt the crystal and metal into him in a heated argument. (tho his powers are distinctly purple)

It is not something he wants to remember, but it is something he will have to carry for the rest of his life.

And now Viktors mind is twisted, he was not strong enough to destroy the core when his mind was still intact and now Viktor commits horrific acts in the name of trying to do ultimately good.

And so the bracelet is not just a reminder of his failure, but also a reminder of the promise he will have to fulfill one way or another.

[florawrites-blog]

It all started with a deal.

No emotions. No attachments. Just a bit of fun and company in the late hours. Jay was every bit the gentleman, respectful of the boundaries you set. He was calm, composed, and always took care of things without crossing the line. You appreciated that about him, his quiet dominance—something that never screamed control, but rather, a gentle guidance that made you feel secure. He didn’t smother you; he just knew how to be there.

You didn’t expect to feel anything beyond the surface. But slowly, things began to shift.

It happened so subtly that you couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment you began falling for him. Maybe it was the way he’d bring you your favorite coffee without asking, or the way his fingers would linger a second too long when he brushed a strand of hair from your face. And Jay… well, he started falling first, though he hid it well. You noticed the way he looked at you—like he was seeing something beyond what you showed him. He became a bit more protective, a bit more dominant in ways that made your heart race.

It was during one of those colder nights that you got sick. You tried to push through it, ignoring the weakness in your body, but Jay noticed right away. He didn’t ask; he insisted. He made you stay over at his apartment, not taking no for an answer.

“You’re staying here,” he had said firmly, already leading you inside, his hand on your lower back. You argued, reminded him about the deal, about the fact that you weren’t supposed to be involved like this. But Jay didn’t care. “Don’t argue. You need rest, and I’ll feel better knowing you’re here.”

With a frustrated sigh, you eventually relented. His apartment was quiet, a reflection of him—minimalistic, but warm. Before he left, he handed you one of his white blouses. “Wear this if you’re uncomfortable,” he said, his voice low and a bit softer than usual. You took it, not really thinking much about it, until later that night.

You found yourself alone in his apartment, your body wrapped in his oversized blouse, the fabric carrying his scent. The sleeves hung past your hands, and for some reason, it made you feel… safe. As you wandered around, feeling the cool air brush against your bare legs, you realized something was changing between the two of you. Something deeper than you were willing to admit.

Later that night, after you had finally drifted into sleep on his couch, Jay came back. The door clicked shut softly, and he stepped inside, his movements quiet. He paused when he saw you, lying there in his shirt, hair splayed across the cushion, your lips parted slightly as you slept. For a moment, he just stood there, admiring the scene in front of him. The faint moonlight from the window cast a glow over your sleeping figure, and Jay’s heart swelled with something he couldn’t deny any longer.

He didn’t wake you. Instead, he just watched, leaning against the doorframe, the urge to reach out and touch you almost overwhelming. But he resisted, knowing this was dangerous territory. He was already too far gone.

Things came to a head a few days later, during an argument neither of you saw coming.

“I can’t handle this, Jay,” you said, your voice sharp with frustration. “You’re giving me too much affection, too much attention. We had a deal, remember?”

Jay didn’t respond right away. He just stood there, looking at you, his gaze intense and unwavering. His silence made you even more flustered. You expected him to argue, to push back, to defend himself. But he didn’t. Instead, he just stepped closer, his eyes locking with yours, so deep and unreadable that it made your breath catch.

“Say something,” you demanded, trying to keep your voice steady.

But he didn’t. He just nodded, the tiniest movement, like he understood. Like he knew exactly what you were feeling, even if you didn’t.

And that’s when it hit you. Whatever you said wouldn’t stop him. Jay was hooked—more than you realized, more than you even were. His actions spoke louder than any argument you could have. He wasn’t going to stop caring for you, wasn’t going to stop being there, even if it scared the both of you.

Because, deep down, you knew—he was far more hooked on you than you were on him.

[sugar-crash]

🍬King Candy (Wreck-It Ralph) x (gn) Reader👑

(Beginning Relationship Pt. I Edition!)

(I thought this song would be fitting considering King Candy’s voice is based on the vocal performance Ed Wynn did for the Mad Hatter… That and its… Nostalgic🔑 [I saw the animation meme culture rise and fall.] lol)

- So, as we all know, the more unpleasant parts of his personality (which could tie him to Turbo) are suppressed, and hidden, though they can still peak out when he’s feeling particularly malicious.

- He’s a slime, a real manipulative rat who’s so sure he can keep everyone in the dark, who takes it slow with you at first to try to maintain his hard work.

- There’s a clear wall between what he displays in front of others and how he is, just the way he likes it, but honestly— If you mean so much to him, you get a weird mix of the two (well, more than usual), a kind of sweet goofiness that’s followed up with a snide remark about being the most skilled in some specific topic.

- Again he’s not the best lover, though from his previous indiscretions he has learned to be more open to others feelings— But only for your sake, mostly cause he can’t stand anyone else besides you…. And Sour Bill sometimes, but he’s mostly the personification of a minimum wage worker.

- Spending time together after hours is a must, though he’s more understanding now than he was before, not demanding every moment of your time but relishing whenever you do.

- I think all that time alone before Sugar Rush got plugged in made him lonely, and less stubborn to admit that he wants that comfort from someone else.

- I don’t think it’s much of a far reach when I say maintaining the King Candy persona is something he is very fluid in, but it’s exhausting at times.

- When he gets that seldom time alone without any of his kingly duties he finds himself yearning for your comforting touch, that stubbornness making way as he makes Sour Bill retrieve you.

- I can see moments between the two of you to be on the tamer side, not as many arguments like Pre-RoadBlasters, little to none really, but there are these tense moments where you ask him something a little too close to home and he becomes stiff in your arms if only for a brief moment.

- As much as he wants to be, not only for himself but maybe even you— He isn’t perfect, he isn’t the person he tries so hard to be, that gleeful and peppy voice going flat the second he isn’t feeling it anymore.

- It becomes apparent the more you know him he’s far more serious than he lets on, puffing his chest up slightly when things don’t go his way and he has to play dirty, which he’s certainly no stranger to...

- In comparison to himself when the arcade first ever opened, he’s certainly grown from that childish hatred, for better and for worse.

- He’s more affectionate for one, providing you with comfort fitting to how you are feeling at that moment, little compliments, and gestures of affection to quell your anger and anxiety in a matter of seconds.

- Quick to learn every little thing about you to make sure he’s able to relate to you, though his intentions with this information go back and forth.

- He wants everything on a silver platter, not only for himself but also for you, making the other subjects of Sugar Rush bend over backward for you, even when you object to all the attention.

- I think one of the ways he dotes on you in a way is date planning, various areas in Sugar Rush vary which can be very nice date spots… He seems like the picnic blanket and tea liker as King Candy, as stereotypical as that is lol.

- Though if that isn’t your style, he can always do dates at the castle, like baking— chatting the night away, it’s the simple things in life <3

- Even with his character growth he is far from a good person, which we all know and love for the most part. He’s fully aware that the things he does to bar you, Venallope, the Sugar Rush inhabitants, and even the arcade entirely is cruel, spiteful even. But what could he have done? Let himself fade into obscurity and be characterized after one of his biggest mistakes?

- No, no, not when he still has so much to provide— He’s a person, just like everyone else, better yet he was programmed to be better. Why should he stand aside and let the world spin without him? Why should he look at you from afar when he has every right to want you?

- That’s part of the reason why he’s so adamant about keeping his spot as the monarch of Sugar Rush, he’s the rightful ruler after all.

(Cr cqh’r lncp, hjw cq cr?)

[turtletaubwrites]

Numbers Game ~ Chapter 34

Can You Pretend?

Pairings: Cross Guild Polycule x Shanks x Fem!Reader x ???

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 11331

Ao3 Link

Ongoing Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

Chapter Tunes: Taste of You ~ Rezz Feat. Dove Cameron | Crazy On You ~ Hidden Citizens

Summary: Getting to know the hunters is getting to you, especially when your own past gets too much attention.

Ch. 33 ~ Recap: You decided that you would kill Shanks for Buggy if he forced you to marry him, and Shanks realized that there was hatred behind your eyes. Mihawk confessed his plan to be the villain so that he could bring you back to Buggy. Crocodile and Buggy encouraged him to try to find another way.

Author's Note: I can't believe that all of these random thoughts I braindumped months ago are finally getting into the story 🥰🥰

Dark Content Warning: There's plenty of fun in this chapter, but there are some extremely potentially triggering scenes. PLEASE DO NOT READ if these might be triggering for you!!! I’ve included a summary directly below the scenes, so that you won’t miss the story if you need to not be in the BIG FEELS of the scene. The summaries will be bracketed with ~⚫~SUMMARY~⚫~ Please take care of yourself, you are not alone! 💜

Also, I hope everyone remembers the tag/warning: Cross Guild Boys are VILLAINS. It’s been there since day one, so 🤷‍♀️ I didn't bracket that scene, but please remember who they are! I still love my sweet, bad boys 🥰 but you have been warned!!!!

~ 1st ⚫ ~ PLEASE DO NOT READ this section if childhood trauma regarding parents fighting could be triggering. Flashback of very small children witnessing/hearing their parents having a very heated argument, from the child's POV. The topic of the fight is a bit of a spoiler, so if any kind of relationship trauma could trigger you, you can check the summary first before diving in.

~ 2nd ⚫ ~ PLEASE DO NOT READ this section if severe mental illness episodes, treatment, or hospitals might be triggering for you.

Alternate POV Symbols:

🌲 ~ Reader | 🐊 ~ Crocodile | 🗡 ~ Mihawk | 🤡 ~ Buggy | 🔴 ~ Shanks | ⏰ ~ Flashbacks for listed POV | ⚫ ~ Scenes depicting Dark Content as listed in Author's Notes

!!! SPOILER WARNING !!! Fic currently contains spoilers for up to chapter 1064 or episode 1093. As we get further into Egghead Arc where our lovely boys are showing up more, there will be more spoilers as time goes on. Sorry y'all, I'm trying to keep most spoilers small details, but Cross Guild is endgame, lol.

Rating/Warnings: Author May Choose to Exclude some Warnings to Avoid Spoilers for Certain Chapters, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Use of Y/N, Dark Content, Blood & Violence, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Dissociation, Mental Illness, Grief, Hospitals, Doctors, Mental Health Treatment, Toxic Family, Childhood Trauma, Swearing, Alcohol, Cigars, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Guilt, Drama, Jealousy, Manipulation, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Threats, Relationship Drama, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Shameless Shameless Smut, Uncle Cedrick Has Become His Own Warning, Death of an Unnamed Character, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Kat wasn’t here. 

Your sister wasn’t here with her wide eyes that were usually sharp with disdain, but always held concern for you. Always held an attention to your needs that you didn’t want her to carry. 

But not tonight. 

“How is this supposed to be protective? Shouldn’t you be giving me some fucking oven mitts?”

Your sister was nowhere to be seen, and you were trying extra fucking hard not to scream at the staff while they squeezed you into this too-tight, leather get up. The endless straps and studs seemed to be purposely placed in the least comfortable places. 

“I assure you, Miss Sylvad, this outfit will be highly protective.”

That voice came wafting over from the corner, Uncle’s favorite assistant finally breaking her silence when she slinked toward you. Her unnervingly straight hair was almost hypnotizing as it swayed with her movements.

You scowled at her.

“Funny, I’ve never seen a chef in leather before.”

“Then you haven’t been in the right kitchen,” she teased. “Bethany, please demonstrate to Miss Sylvad how to undress on her own, just in case. Baking can be so messy.”

Darla reached out to touch one of the dangling zippers along your side, and you almost gave in. Almost lunged for her fucking throat. 

“It’s been almost two years now, hasn’t it,” you asked instead, letting true pity coat your voice.

“Since what, Miss Sylvad,” she smirked. She was still too fucking close. 

“Since you became his favorite,” you soothed, patting her shoulder. “Better set aside all the berry you can now, Darla. When Uncle drops people, they tend not to get back up.”  

“There’s no need to be cruel, sweetie,” your mother breezed in with a smoothie. She took a sip while she walked up to you, giving the assistant no choice but to move out of the way. 

You were too busy getting a brain freeze to spit one of your usual retorts, although the urge to ask about your sister nearly pushed past the discomfort. 

~~~

The courtyard filled with applause at the sight of you, and your Sylvad smile deepened when you imagined the most satisfying ways to silence the vultures. The huge screen showed you strutting down the path, which was the only way you could fucking walk in that domestic dominatrix outfit.  

They’d even given you a tiny, studded apron.

Breathe. Just breathe. Don’t let it in. 

There she was.

Kat was staring at you, her face comically shocked, and you hoped your own shock didn’t show.

Your sister was seated with the Vinsmoke family, and the brothers seemed to be caught in a loop of gawking at you, and returning their attention to her. Their lustful, puppy dog eyes were comical on their own, but watching them look at her like that flashed too many feelings through you that you didn’t have time to name. 

Yeah, it would be weird to marry her favorite.

“May I offer you a ride, Miss Sylvad?”

“A ride,” you asked, almost squeaking when that velvety voice draped over you. You’d been so distracted by your sister, you hadn’t realized that the massive pillars you were heading toward were covered in leather and spurs.

And waiting for you. 

“A ride...”

Your head barely reached above his knees, which happened to have deadly looking spikes on them, pointed straight for your throat. Thankfully, Katakuri shifted them away before he kneeled down. He waited for your nod, then grabbed you so gently around the middle, and it took everything in you not to squeal when you soared through the air. 

“You can hold onto this if you like, but I promise that I will catch you if you fall.”

“Mhm, thank you,” you hummed nervously to the side of his face, clinging to another large spike on his shoulder that was hidden beneath his scarf. 

It was surprisingly warm this high up as you perched on the heat of his body. The feathers of his scarf were comfortable, slightly tickling around you.

“Are you afraid of heights?”

“I think I’m supposed to be,” you joked, earning what you thought was a smile beneath all those feathers. “I don’t know why I thought you’d be taller than these trees.”

“I’m not a giant, Y/N.”

What a voice… If you weren’t scared of getting knocked off of his shoulder by a branch, you might have passed out.

“Just, uh, king-sized then?”

That crimson eye turned its attention to you, and his next words almost did knock you out.

“I hope that you’ll find me… husband-sized, Miss Sylvad. May I set you down?”

“Mhm,” was all you could manage, until you were clinging to his hand again. Your date held you aloft while he sat cross legged on a grassy hill, setting you down in front of the strangest kitchen equipment you’d ever seen. There were two sets of everything for your different sizes, all in neon colors that looked surreal under the golden sky. 

Your grin faded for a second when you noticed the staff and their snails in the surrounding trees, but you shook it off. 

“What are we making?”

~~~

You were so messy.

“They don’t have to be perfect, Y/N,” Katakuri chuckled while you struggled to shape your dough into circles. “And we need to let the dough rise for an hour before we fry them.”

“An hour?”

“Good things take time.”

He motioned you toward the sink, and you washed yourself up before giggling while you held out the hose for him. His soapy water slid down the side of the hill, and your mind flashed an image of you leaping onto it like a water slide.

“This is a good laugh. I hope to hear more of this one from you.” 

Katakuri had frozen you again, your laughter fading while you watched him dry his hands on a towel the size of a rug.

You never thought you’d feel smaller than you had with…

No.

Buggy had a real name. 

You’d gotten rid of the names from before. “First love.” “Second love.” They weren’t real.

But what should you call them?

Nothing. Stop thinking about them.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t,” you took a breath, fixing your fucking face. “I’m just thinking about our doughnuts. We really have to wait an hour?”

“Would you like to go somewhere while we wait,” Katakuri’s voice rumbled over you until you shivered. “I can give us some privacy so we can speak freely.”

Privacy. 

With this “not a giant,” giant man. A very pretty, giant man.

“I’d like that.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

They had all known this was going to happen, that Y/N would have to date the other men before she could leave with him.

Yet Shanks couldn’t stop feeling like a failure, so he latched onto any idea that might help him fix this. 

His current idea was making him sick, but not as sick as Buggy must feel, listening to—

“Looks like we’re not the only ones hoping for a peek,” the red haired Vinsmoke laughed to his brothers.

Shanks needed to get his shit together. He’d noticed the three men before they emerged from the trees, but he’d forgotten why he should care about them. 

Normally, they wouldn’t be a threat to him.

The blue haired one stepped up to smirk at him, and Shanks was almost sure his name was Niji. 

“The Emperor of the Sea wanted another look, eh,” the blue one asked. “Didn't get enough of our little princess last night? Well, that’s a good sign. I’m looking forward to having a taste for myself.”

“Looks like we’re out of luck,” the green one— Yonji complained, pointing through the trees toward a large hill. 

Shanks looked away from the princes so he wouldn’t hurt them. He couldn’t fight, couldn’t risk getting kicked out. 

He couldn’t see her through that dome of mochi the massive pirate had caged her in.

She’s okay. She has to be. 

“There might not be enough left of her to taste when he’s done with her.”

Shanks had to leave before he killed them, finding his own reclusive spot to stare at the giant wall between him, and the woman his two lovers loved. 

Buggy was listening. Or maybe she wasn’t wearing the locket? 

It was a small hope that did nothing for his guilt, or the well-deserved hate he’d planted in her.

Mihawk’s golden eyes filled his mind, tears making them impossibly beautiful when he apologized. 

When he finally said it back. 

It felt like hours went by while he watched that unmoving room. Useless. 

I’ve never had… She helped Hawk open up. She made Buggy feel loved. It was her.

Shanks hit the back of his head against the tree he’d leaned on, until he remembered all of those cam-snails in the forest. 

So the Emperor tried his best to imitate her. To put on that face. To pretend that everything was alright. 

He had no idea how she hid so well. Shanks’ own hidden truths were stuffed so far down that he almost didn’t believe them himself, but she had to lie with every breath. 

Y/N has a strength I never knew someone might need. Not like this. 

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

He wondered how many hours of his life had been drained away in dingy taverns just like this one. Hiding in the darkest corner, a book with a dragon on the cover still unread in his hand, the World’s Greatest Swordsman listened. 

Mihawk didn’t expect to hear anything of note here, but he’d landed at Majiatsuka just early enough to book a room for the night. He couldn’t think about anything besides his need to protect her, and resisting his need to hop back on his boat, and go straight there.

“Hey, did you catch the feed tonight,” a red faced patron called out as two other drunks joined his table.

“Shh, Jacob, don’t say that shit so loud,” the one on the right laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “You know the whole thing’s illegal, right?” 

“Yeah,” the one on the left spat, “and I know for a fact those assholes would only get a slap on the wrist, but poor folks like us? I don’t wanna know what kinda fine we’d get if we’re caught watching.”

That unread book was shut. 

“I really hope they show the good stuff soon,” Right complained, leaning forward with a hushed, slimy tone. “Can you imagine what that giant dick must have done to that rich slut’s cunt?”

“Oh yeah,” Left agreed with a laugh. “I imagined it plenty of times after the feed last night. Can’t wait for that whore to—“

“Jacob, was it?”

Mihawk shoved Left’s headless body to the floor, stealing his chair to sit across from the whimpering man. He ignored the screams while the place cleared out, and he ignored Right’s headless body that was leaking blood onto the sticky table.

He had dirtied Yoru on their weak blood, so he cleaned his blade while Jacob pissed himself.  

“Would you like to tell me everything you know about that feed, Jacob,” Mihawk drawled, more death waiting to pour from him. Endless death until he held her again. “Or…”

“I-I’ll tell you, please sir, p-plea—“

“Don’t waste my time, Jacob. Tell me about the feed.”

~~~🗡️🗡️🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

"I'd like that."

His eyes looked even prettier when you said those words. 

He’s still a hunter. He’s still using you. Don’t forget.

“I’m going to use my devil fruit power to create a room around us. No one will be able to see or hear us, but I promise to lower it whenever you wish.”

He’s so careful with me. This leech must really want to win.  

Your consent had hardly left your lips before your world became soft and pale, his power enveloping the entire hilltop, including the little kitchen and lamp posts that came with it. He'd kept everything except for the rotating pedestals that the nearest cam-snails had been perched on.

The smell in the air was slightly sweet, but the feeling of being trapped still crept in, almost leaving your throat in a scream. 

“It’s alright, Miss Sylvad. I’ll drop it right now if you want me to, but I’d like to talk without the surveillance. I won’t move. I won’t touch you.”

Katakuri’s voice had lost the slight tease he’d been giving you, speaking in an almost businesslike tone. 

So he’s good at pretending too.

“Thank you, Katakuri,” you mirrored his tone. “What would you like to speak with me about?”

Here it was. The old, familiar rhythm of negotiation that your dad had spent so many years making sure you understood. 

“My little sister has been kidnapped by Emperor Blackbeard. Since my mother was defeated, I am ashamed to admit that we are not equipped to get her back on our own. Pudding is only sixteen, Y/N,” he urged, enough emotion in his words to make you pause, even with your determination to keep him out. 

“I’m so sorry, but how can—“

“My family needs this marriage to happen, but I wanted you to know my true intentions. Please, marry one of us, Y/N. With the financial support your uncle has promised, we’ll be able to afford to bring an army with us to get her back.”

Those pretty eyes were urgent now. Almost desperate.

“There is nothing more important to me than protecting my family,” he whispered, although his voice was too large to feel quiet. “I swear that we will care for you. We will protect you with our lives. I’ll get you away from these people, Y/N. You’re an older sister, are you not?”

“Yes, but I’m… I’m sorry, but I can’t make any promises yet. Thank you for telling me the truth.”

A heavy fear gripped your heart, your whole body fighting not to shake beneath this man’s fierce request. 

He needed this. 

What will he do to get it?

“I understand,” he nodded, taking a breath that could have sucked the air from the room. “We need you, but our relationship doesn’t need to be for duty alone. May I return to showing you the kind of husband I will be?”

“I’d like that.” 

The truth of that surprised you, and you would have scolded yourself, but he moved. Stretching out his long legs, he laid on his side, propped up on his elbow. 

“You didn’t choose these clothes,” he noted, almost a tease. 

“How could you tell?” 

Sarcasm, seriously? I really am insane. 

“Leather molds to your body when it’s worn regularly. You don’t look very comfortable in that.”

Heat shivered through you, and his eyes went a bit wide.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I wasn’t trying to—“

Laughter filled that sweet, soft room, a dam of tension breaking loose, and you would have joined him on the ground if your outfit wasn’t so stiff. 

“Oh,” you caught your breath, “I’m laughing because you were right, not because I wouldn’t…”

Holy shit, I want to fuck him. There’s that fucking death wish again.  

“What have you heard about me, Miss Sylvad?”

Absolutely nothing. Totally blank. Your brain couldn’t recall a single thought until you looked away from him, pacing over the soft ground.

“You’re a Sweet Commander of the Big Mom Pirates,” you started listing the few details you could remember. “You ate the Mochi Mochi fruit. Your bounty is over a billion berries. Uh, you’re not a giant.” 

You shrugged when you turned back toward him, and almost lost your thoughts again.

“Oh, and you never lie on your… Are you a side sleeper, then?”

Tingles danced over your skin while Katakuri laughed full out, an overwhelming sound. He leaned his head back, the feathers that covered his face moving with his breath. 

“Why didn’t I think of that,” he rasped, still chuckling. “Would have been more comfortable than all the walls I’ve slept against.”

He sighed at the confusion on your face before rolling onto his back. 

“So, you do lie on your back, but you sleep sitting up,” you frowned as you walked closer, almost reaching out to touch him.

“It was a lie I told to protect my siblings. A sacrifice that has made me strong for them, but always alone.”

“I’m sorry, Katakuri,” you reached out now, smoothing your palm over the pink skull tattooed on his arm. 

“Don’t be,” he hummed, seeming so relaxed while he laid before you. “I recently lost a good battle, and it’s made me wonder if there are better ways that I can be a good brother.”

“Must have been one hell of a fight if Charlotte Katakuri is on his back for a stranger.”

You leaned against his arm, hoping that he’d take the playful tease. All the talk of protecting his siblings was taking your mind to places you’d rather not go.

You’d rather be following that death wish of yours. 

“I don’t want you to be a stranger,” he whispered as he rolled back onto his side to look at you. “I want to take you away from these people. I want you to meet my sister, and we can bring yours with us. We can protect them both.”

“I don’t—“

“But my goal for tonight is to help you relax.”

There was absolutely no way you could relax. 

“You’ve been doing so well, carrying whatever this weight is that your family has given you,” Katakuri praised. The touch of his fingers along your arm, and stroking down your back, felt dreamlike. Everything was strange and fuzzy. 

“Thank you.”

“I have one more thing to share,” he rasped, taking back his hand to touch his scarf. “Hiding was something else I did for a sister. I think that reason is gone now, so all I’m left with are my own fears.”

“Is it fangs,” you breathed, trying to be light. “That’s what my guess is, which is totally fine! I’d be more freaked out if you had puppies under there or something.”

“Puppies,” he huffed a laugh, cocking his head.

“I don’t know,” you squeaked, unable to shut yourself up. “Is it scars? I thought I saw… you know, I actually think that scars are—“

“Cute.”

“Uh, y-yeah,” you froze as a very large finger tilted your chin up to meet his gaze. “That’s not the word I was thinking of, but they can be…”

“You are very cute, Y/N,” Katakuri hummed, and your mind blanked out again. “May I show you?”

You remembered how to nod, and luckily you’d already prepared yourself for what your suitor might be hiding. 

That scarf was a small mountain of feathers when he removed it, all that softness gone, and replaced with sharp fangs, and scars that stretched from the corners of his lips to above his ears on either side. His fangs seemed almost like tusks, jutting out to stretch over his lips.

Then he opened his mouth. 

“So I was right on both counts,” you gave a nervous smile at the sight of all of the sharp teeth in that mouth, not just the four large fangs that he couldn’t hide. “Do I win a prize?”

You knew that you’d been right about when he’d smiled before as you watched his whole face move with it now. 

“Well, I believe it’s almost time to fry our doughnuts.”

~~~

“Mm, fuck! That’s so good, Katakuri.”

He laughed at you then, tossing the rest of the massive doughnuts into his wide mouth that seemed just a little less dangerous when it was filled with sweets. 

You still had a plate of the smaller, glazed pastries, but the numbers were dwindling.

“This has been a lovely date,” you hummed, honestly feeling good for the moment. Katakuri had taken your mind away for a while, and it was a gift.

“Would you like it to be over,” he checked in, his brow arching even higher while he scanned you. 

He’s still so pretty.

He made you shy, but you were bold enough to shake your head. 

“Then would it be alright if I looked at you, pretty thing?”

Holy shit…

Katakuri had barely grazed your hip with his finger, but his voice went so deep, so dark, that you threw your head back, knees almost buckling.

He chuckled, helping you stay balanced while you struggled with all of the stiff bits of leather strapped to your body. 

Your locket fell out from where you’d stuffed it into the tight material, and you tried to leave it on the ground. You really tried to leave it behind.

It was a chain of guilt and brightness around your neck, and the best you could do was carry it with you while you tried not to think about drifting further and further away from that daydream of a life. 

“You are so beautiful, Y/N. May I create a bed for you so that I can see you better?”

Soon you were lifted up, perched on a mattress made of mochi that was too high for you to relax completely, until you forgot all about it. 

“You want me to touch you, don’t you, Y/N,” he asked in that tone that sent you reeling. He had set you up a little higher than his shoulders, and he leaned over you, his face so close as he took in a breath. “Gods, you smell so sweet.”

Why am I already whimpering?

“I’m going to touch you now, but let me know—“

“Touch me, Katakuri, please!”

The sound he made when you begged made you arch your back, but then you were gasping, fear creeping back in as he spread your legs. He held your thighs apart with his hands while he stared at you like you were a treat for him to eat. 

“I’ll be careful,” he breathed, a soothing threat while his sharp mouth hung open at the sight of you. “I’ll keep my head right here. Let me taste you, please. Let me fuck my tongue into you. I’ll be so—”

“Please! Gods, please— oh gods, oh f-fuck.”

Katakuri…

Katakuri’s tongue felt so good, so insanely good. You’d never thought to imagine what a tongue that size could do, but the press of it, the strength, the size, had you twitching and begging within seconds. 

And he’d told the truth. He was so careful. Careful to hold your twitching legs so they wouldn’t go near his fangs. Careful to keep his mouth away from your skin, just his tongue reaching out. 

That was all he needed.

“Kata-Katakuri…”

The precision he had was unbelievable. The flick of that huge tongue kept finding your clit over and over, and his pleased moans vibrated through you like a toy, an incredible toy. Then he did what you’d begged for.

Your nails looked so small digging into the back of his hands. He went slow, but soon his tongue was inside you, making you forget the world again.

“Don’t stop,” you begged weakly, surprised you could speak at all while the mochi bed sank toward the ground.

“We don’t have to stop,” he promised, smiling down at you while he traced his fingers over your skin. “But the bells are ringing outside. I believe our time is up.”

You whined. 

“Does this mean that you’d like to see me again,” he laughed while you still struggled to move. 

“I don’t think I’m supposed to answer that,” came your grumbled response. 

“Mm, what about now?”

Katakuri had brought you one of those giant towels, but he dropped it to trace his finger all the way up your thigh, barely touching the twitching, needy flesh he’d just tasted. 

“Fuck, yes. Please.”

“Good girl. I’m gonna take such good care of you, Y/N. My cute, little bride.”

~~~

No favorites. No least favorites.

Over and over and over. 

You hadn’t expected to have any favorites, and you were pissed that you already seemed to have them mapped out. 

Uncle Cedrick would use it against you, so it was better not to care either way, but your stupid brain wouldn’t stop. 

Katakuri had joined your family for breakfast, so polite as he sat on the grass by the patio. 

“What is your role, Kathryn?”

“Role,” Kat frowned at him.

“Position,” he tried again, glancing at you. “What do you do?”

“Kathryn is invested in her family,” Cedrick bragged, before scowling at you for speaking at the same time.

“Kat’s been studying business. Have you started your masters program yet,” you asked cheerfully, hating yourself for not asking sooner. 

“No,” she mumbled as she caught your uncle’s gaze. “Too much family stuff going on.”

…

“I brought you all some doughnuts.”

~~~

Today’s hunt was for the “truth.” It had been your choice, but you were sick of this shit already. 

“You’re a dog person,” Niji declared while his eyes traveled down your body.

“Well, I love dogs, but we’ve always had—“

“You don’t like spicy food.”

Oh thank gods, the bells.

~~~

Each hunter had to submit a list of their own questions, along with their guesses at what your answers would be. A lazy idea, but it was giving you a glimpse into what they thought of you.

“You really like my brother.”

“I don’t think it’s fair for me to answer that either way,” you teased. 

How does he keep his hair from burning with those sparks?

Cracker gave you another maniacal grin, his bare chest like a wall that kept you from checking your Uncle’s expression. Yours was on display again, spread across the side of the building, so you did your best to school it.

“That’s alright. Everyone likes my brother. But you… You’re a picky eater.”

You gave him the win. It was true enough when it came to the food your family served.

~~~

“Redwoods are your favorite trees.”  

“That’s right, Mr… Iceburg,” you smiled. You still hadn’t trained yourself to hate him for being here, for being a leech. He was still Mr. Iceburg in your mind, and that held too much weight. 

He’d guessed the most truths so far, and that teenage crush of yours wanted to crush all of your caution away when he patted you on the head at the end of his turn.

Stupid brain.

~~~

“You like cookies.”

“I’m not sure if that counts, Emperor Shanks,” you flirted while you planned his gruesome death.

“You’re right, who doesn’t like cookies,” he smiled that infuriatingly charming smile. “I think that you like to dance, but might need a little more practice.”

More images flashed in your mind. Too fast. Too real.

His pulse against your skin. His strong fingers controlling you, digging into your hip while he pressed himself—

The ringing of those bells was your new favorite sound. 

“I’ll give you that one, Shanks.”

You covered your hate with fluttering lashes, and a gentle bite to the lip that he always loved to stare at. 

He wasn’t staring at it today. 

Hot rage turned to icy fear when you saw that look in his soft eyes. Like he was seeing too far, too deep. 

What did he see?

~~~

Giberson already smelled like whiskey when he folded his lanky body into the chair across from you. You were more jealous than anything else, wishing that you could numb this shitty lunch away. 

“How are you doing, my dear?”

“Well, thank you, sir.”

“Oh no,” he laughed, that sharp smell getting stronger when he opened his mouth too wide. “Just call me Gibby. That’s what my friends call me.”

“Of course, Gibby,” you smiled. You knew you could do this. You could feel all the eyes on your skin. Appeasing an old man was nothing. 

Just boring.

“Alright, where should we begin?” 

The old man cleared his throat loudly, squinting at a notebook he’d pulled from his jacket, the silk lining gleaming in the sun. 

“You received your degrees from Pucci University. Excellent school,” he hummed while you tried not to frown. “I would have expected a Sylvad to attend an older institution, given your connections, but I’m sure that the food alone had to be worth it. Did you enjoy your time in the Gourmet City?”

“I did...”

“Well, let’s keep going. We are on a time limit after all, and I’ve been looking forward to having you all to myself,” he winked before diving back into his notebook.

The Concealer. Information broker. Emperor of the Underworld. 

What the fuck did he find? 

“Ahh, you worked at Polestar Principal Bank, I believe? Upstanding establishment, and just a ferry ride away from Loguetown too. Did you meet any interesting pirates when you weren’t making the rich even richer?”

“W-well—“

“And I noticed that your family always moved with you when you went to a new island,” Giberson beamed, flicking the paper while he nodded. “I just love those strong family bonds. Shows true value.”

Smile. That was a compliment. 

You didn’t believe the lie, but hoped that your face sold it while shame poured through you. Your eyes darted over to your sister against your will, finding her strained smile to reinforce your guilt. 

Wherever you moved, your family had followed, dropping Kat’s life away every time. 

“You enjoy reading fantasy novels, eating spicy food, and you’ve always loved cats.”

“Yes, I—“

��St. Poplar is your family’s original home. I saw that you attended St. Poplar Private School, but took a year off for independent studies before you returned to graduate at the top of your class. It’s strange though, I couldn’t find a scrap of information about that year, and it’s been bothering me for weeks now. Were you traveling abroad? I didn’t find any records of travel, or salaries for home tutors, or…”

Breathing. Were you breathing?

Eyes. So many eyes.

“Oh, dearie me,” Giberson sighed, setting down his evil notebook. “Please, forgive an old man his forgetfulness. That was after your father passed, was it not? Well, I’m grateful that you were able to take that time to be with your family, and I’m so sorry for—“

“It’s fine,” you lied in a voice that was too high, and too fucking fragile. “Do you have any other truths to guess?”

“It’s not a guess if it’s the truth,” Giberson teased while he raised his boozy drink, the ringing of bells coming to your rescue too late. “You are the loveliest, little lady in the New World.”

~~~

Having private conversations in front of servants had never felt comfortable, but this shit show kept leaving you with no other choice. 

Tonight’s outfit was thankfully close to “normal” clothes, but hair and makeup were still taking too long to wait for privacy, and Kat had started first.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here yesterday.”

You snorted at her little grimace, knowing that you were probably the only person she ever apologized to. 

“Sorry, it’s all good,” you appeased her narrowed eyes.

Your sister had clearly been making an effort to be positive around you since you arrived, but it was comforting to see her being more herself.

“Did you have a good time with the Vinsmokes?”

“Yeah, it was alright,” Kat brushed off, but she pinched her fingers together in her lap, and that odd guilt crept back in. “How was your date with Katakuri?”

“It was surprisingly lovely,” you rushed, ignoring her raised brows while you pushed on. “Do you not want me to marry a Vinsmoke? Because I can try not to end up with your favorite. I wouldn’t want you to—“

“Stop worrying about me,” your sister scolded, shaking her head while she huffed a laugh. “I actually wouldn’t mind being their sister-in-law. I’d love to go see their tech. Fucking hover boots? Honestly, you should marry one of them just for the shoes. I think you’d like their sister too, I hope you get to meet her soon. Their dad seems like a dick, but…”

The lead makeup artist caught your scowl when he blocked your view, so he turned your spinning chair, letting you see your sister’s flustered face.

“Are you sure,” you checked in again, too much guilt to stamp out so quickly.

“Would you shut the fuck up already,” Kat rolled her eyes. “You’re about to go on a date with a two story tall merman. I don’t need you to protect my feelings. I don’t even have any feelings about this, alright? I promise.”

…

“Cut it out,” she groaned at your searching eyes, “and tell me all about your lovely date with that giant, leather boy.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

~~~

~~~⚫️⚫️⚫️~~~

kitty kat’s gonna wake up. 

Loud noises had woken you. Loud, angry noises.

“You really think I can’t do math, Delaine?” Daddy’s voice sounded scary. “Whatever that thing is in there, it’s not mine.”

“Please, Arbo.” Mommy was crying. “Kathryn was premature, you heard what the doctor said.”

Mommy and Daddy were fighting about little Kitty Kat. 

“Doctors that accept bribes tend to accept even higher bribes, wife.”

You couldn’t open the crib, and you knew you shouldn’t. You weren’t strong enough, or tall enough to climb inside with your little sister, so you dragged one of your chairs over to stand on, and reached your hands through the bars.

“It’s okay, Kitty Kat,” you whispered as you covered her tiny ears, pressing your face between the wooden bars to watch her breathe.

You didn’t want Sissy to be scared.

“Since you’re done denying it, why don’t you tell me who you were out fucking when you should have been with our daughter? How often did you leave her with the governess so you could go sink your claws into some other poor bastard?”

Daddy sounded mad, and sad. 

“And where were you, husband?” That didn’t sound like Mommy. She sounded mean. “You expect me to wait around for months while you're out working, only for you to bore me to death when you grace us with your presence? Oh, please, Arbo! I just need to hear another one of your math stories. Please–”

why are they hurting each other? why won’t they stop?

“Shh, Kitty Kat, everything’s gonna be okay.” Sissy was starting to make little noises, and you couldn’t let her hear. 

“Who was it?”

“Arbo–” 

“WHOSE BABY IS THAT, DELAINE?”

“Daddy… Shh, Sissy. We’re okay.”

“S–Samson. It was Samson. Please, don’t hurt him, Arbo.”

“I’m not going to hurt the fucking chauffeur.” Daddy laughed. Scary laughs. Sad laughs. “I’m going to do him a favor, and make sure he never has to see your face again. Set him up with a nice job on the other side of the fucking planet.”

“Thank–”

“Don’t you dare thank me. You know what? You’ve got two choices, Delaine. Take his baby, and go live out your happy life with that unlucky chauffeur, or get your shit together, and pretend.”

“What–”

“If you want to keep being ‘Mrs. Sylvad,’ which I know you love more than your own family, then you need to put in the fucking work. Think you can do that, Delaine? Can you pretend to be a loving mother? A happy wife? That’s all I’ll ever ask of you, since I know there’s no real heart in that hollow chest of yours. Can you pretend?”

… 

“Of course, Arbo, dear.” That sounded like Mommy. “I’ll do anything to make things right. Whatever will make you happy.”

“Just keep pretending. I’m taking my daughter to the East wing.”

“But… of course, husband. Let me know if I can help with anything.”

~~~

“Hi, sweet– oh, angel, no! Shh, shh, Daddy’s here.”

Daddy rushed toward you, wiping your tears as he pulled you away from Sissy’s crib. He looked scared, and you couldn’t stop yourself from crying.

He carried you out before you woke her up, walking so fast until you were far away when he set you down.

“Daddy’s so sorry, sweetheart. We didn’t mean to scare you. You were protecting your– protecting Kathryn, weren’t you?”

“Why were you and Mommy so loud?”

Daddy was crying.

“We were just talking, sweetheart, we’re okay. Everything’s okay, Y/N, I promise.”

Daddy was lying.

“Okay, Daddy.”

i can pretend for daddy. i can help him be happy again. 

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

~~~

~⚫~SUMMARY~⚫~

The scene above is from the reader’s POV as a small child. She woke up to hear her parents arguing loudly about her baby sister, so she reached through the bars of the crib to cover Kat’s ears so she wouldn’t wake up, and get scared. 

During the argument, Arbo accused Delaine of cheating, and asked who Kat’s father was. She admitted to the infidelity after Arbo implied that he had bribed the doctor she had bribed to keep it a secret. She told him that it was Samson, their chauffeur. 

Arbo accused Delaine of neglecting the reader during her affair, while Delaine accused Arbo of expecting her to wait for months, and of “boring her” when he returned from business trips. 

Arbo gave Delaine the option to take Kat, and go live with the chauffeur, or continue to be “Mrs. Sylvad,” by pretending to be a good wife and mother, and stated that he believed she cared more about that than her own family. Delaine agreed to pretend.

From the reader’s very young POV, she noticed that they both cried at different times, that Arbo often sounded mad, scary, or sad, and that Delaine sounded mean, and then “like Mommy again,” after she agreed to pretend.

Arbo came to get his daughter to stay with him in the East wing, and found the reader with her hands over Kat’s ears. He panicked and carried the reader away. He apologized for scaring her, and told the reader that they had just been talking, and that everything was okay. 

The very young reader knew that he was lying, but decided that she would pretend too, so that she could help her dad be happy again.

~⚫~SUMMARY~⚫~

~~~

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

This prince was already out of the game, but you were good at pretending. It helped that your costume for Fukaboshi’s date made you feel like a princess instead of a sex doll.

The crowd was still applauding while the platform lifted you into the air. Your light, flowy dress moved like gentle waves in the breeze, matching the shifting, ocean colors of the fabric. 

You could have gone without all the shells in your hair, and the iridescent scales that were painted around your temples, your shoulders, and along the backs of your hands and wrists. 

Fukaboshi’s soft smile was worth it though, as soft as shark teeth could be. 

“Good evening, Y/N,” he tilted his head toward you, his mane of hair falling forward like glittering curtains. “You are as beautiful as sunlight on the water.”

No favorites. No least favorites. 

~~~

“How did you know this was my favorite spot,” you beamed, trying not to feel woozy on the platform that had been perched atop your favorite cliff.

“I merely searched for the most beautiful waves on the island. You must know these waters well,” Fukaboshi praised, filling you with a strange pride for such a small thing.

You did know them well. 

Fukaboshi’s people treated you like a princess, doting on you like you were already theirs. They caught and cooked your food before the sky grew dark. There was music, and stories, and dancers, and it should have been lovely, but with every moment, the tide crept further in. 

Soon the waves were crashing loudly along the staggered cliffs, just barely reaching over the edge in a cascade of white that would grow and grow. 

It had always been your favorite spot to scream. 

“They are no longer listening to us.”

“Hmm?”

“I spoke too loudly the other day, didn’t I,” the prince sighed, glancing around at the now empty cliff. “My mother was never quiet in the face of injustice, but it seems that I have lost my chance now. You will be sending me home soon, will you not?”

Your mouth opened, but you took too long to lie.

“They are not listening, but I understand your caution. I want you to know that even if I do not get the resources my people need, I will still help you. We can leave right now, if you wish.”

Fear, hope, grief, and guilt all hit your veins like poison until you almost cried out in pain. Yet, you smiled. Not your Sylvad smile, but a true, sad curve to your lips before you could answer.

“I am so grateful for the offer, Fukaboshi, but I have to stay. I have my own responsibilities, and I won’t abandon them again.” 

Silence rolled in, gentler than the growing tide.

“It may seem a strange thing to say given our situation, but you remind me of my mother.”

“Oh?” You didn’t know what kind of smile to give. 

The merman pulled a locket the size of your face from a satchel at his side, and you turned to let the soft lights of the lanterns below show you what it held. 

“That’s your… mom?” You’d left out the rudest word in that shocked sentence, but there was absolutely no way that tiny woman could have physically birthed him. No way she could have been with the person who had to be King Neptune, his face not even in the picture because he towered over her so thoroughly. “She was beautiful.”

“Yes,” he nodded slowly, looking at the picture before tucking it away. “But she was also strong. Fearless.”

Your memory finally kicked in, and Queen Otohime’s assassination formed into something real, not just words on a page. 

“I apologize,” Fukaboshi smiled. “You are carrying a weight, and I have added more.”

“No, it’s fine,” you didn’t lie. Sometimes just seeing pain that looked like yours felt like relief, a tiny respite from loneliness. Still, you tried to make things light. “I’ve been wondering about that bubble around your waist. Is it like the ones at Sabaody? I didn’t think they could last this far from the mangrove.”

Why am I so bad at making things light?

“So you’ve been to the archipelago,” the prince questioned. There was just a hint of anger in his words, but that hint felt very large as it shook through his enormous form.  

“I… we have a home there. It was mainly for business, but my dad would always bring me so I could see the trees. I haven’t been there since I was a kid.”

Sweet memories of bubble rides turned vile when you remembered how privileged you were. 

“Well, I hope that you did not have to witness what my people are subjected to there. Children should be protected from such ugliness. Unfortunately, the rest of the world seems to ignore or relish in that ugliness, and my people suffer the price.”

“I’m so sorry, Fukaboshi.”

The stars were difficult to see on the water now, the tide slamming against the cliffs again and again until the air was filled with salt. The prince stared at the spray, his fists clenching, almost shaking, and you hated that you could do nothing for him besides letting him leave, or getting him killed.

“My sister was chained while the celestial demons laughed at her tears,” he growled, shaking the wood beneath your feet. “I was forced to watch in silence with the crowd of cowards that are meant to govern this world. They were going to make her their pet!”

This terrifying, two story tall prince bared his teeth, raging at the sky, yet you were still far more afraid of the people he despised. 

“The Dragons…”

“There is no way for me to salvage this, is there,” Fukaboshi implored, his breath heavy. 

You took too long to lie. 

“Let me help you, at least,” he begged, dipping his head toward you. “I cannot see your chains, but I know that they are there. These monsters are using you for their entertainment. I don’t want to leave you here like this.”

Living under the sea might have been nice. 

“Thank you,” you choked out. You couldn’t afford to feel this. Even without the eyes on you, you couldn’t afford to cry anymore. 

You might never stop.

“I’m sorry, but I have to stay. I left before, and…” Stop it. That crack in your voice was too much. You had to stop.

Bells. 

They were distant, but ringing closer while you stared into the eyes of a truly good man that you wanted to send home this instant. He didn’t deserve to rot with these leeches. This prince needed to get as far away from you and your Sylvad smile as possible.

“It has been an honor to meet you, Y/N,” Fukaboshi hummed before the leeches and their snails arrived. “If you ever need a friend in the water, you will find a country’s worth when I tell my people of your kindness and strength.”

“Please, I haven’t done anything to deserve such high praise.”

“I would not survive a challenge such as this, yet you face it with a warrior’s will,” he praised, filling you with a strange pride for such a lie. “I hope that your responsibilities do not keep you from finding true happiness.”

There was no time to answer before your privacy was stripped away again, so the prince joined you in silence. The tide carried your rage for you, violent sprays of white dancing along the cliff. 

It would have felt so good to scream, but at least you knew that another kind soul existed in this world. 

At least you knew that he’d be free of you soon. 

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

“What the fuck are you doing, mom?”

“Y/N, please, calm down,” your mom tried to soothe while you grabbed her nearest belongings to throw against the wall. 

You hadn’t been in this manor since you were little, and hated that you had to step into it now. College was supposed to be your escape, but they’d all just picked up and followed you to the nearest family property. You tried to pretend they didn’t exist, but your last call with Kitty had sent you into a rage.

“She’s only in high school, mom, she’s still a kid! I really thought you cared more for her, but you don’t give a fuck, do you? All you do is pretend.”

“Y/N, you have no idea what the world is really like,” she condescended, her chin lifting just a bit. “You have no idea what I have had to–”

“Save your sob story for someone who gives a fuck, mother,” you snarled in her face. 

It probably should have worried you how satisfying her gasp felt when she backed up against the wall. Nowhere to hide from your anger now. 

“If you let him marry her off, especially to a fucking Dragon, then you won’t get a single berry from me. So figure it out, mom. Will you get more money from selling your youngest daughter or your oldest daughter, because you can’t do both, you greedy bitch.”

All that satisfying fear on her face melted away, leaving Mommy with her perfect smile. 

“Of course, sweetie. I’ll try to convince him to wait, but your uncle just wants what’s best for her, and for our family.”

“I don’t care,” you breathed rage against her mask. “I’ll kill you both before I let one of those monsters touch her. I’ll make you poor, and dead. Don’t forget, your daughter’s not well!”

A satisfying hint of fear showed in her eyes before you walked away, harsh laughter following you through the halls.

Your laughter.

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

That was a lot. 

A giggle left your throat at the dumb thought, and at the sound of all the shells falling from your hair beneath the too hot water. 

I’m not strong. Not kind. Not brave. 

The sick guilt in your heart made you want to run across the island to find the prince and beg his forgiveness for making him think that you were anything more than a selfish, entitled, rich girl. You weren’t doing anything special. 

Just trying to fix your mistake. Your failure. 

Trying to run from the cowardice and selfishness that had haunted you since you tried to run the first time. 

Then the second time. 

And the third time was the charm.

So selfish. Selfish piece of shit. I just left her. Abandoned her. 

You tried to take the locket off. It was comfort and torture. 

It was proof that true love existed, and it was a reminder of what a disgustingly selfish bitch you were. You had left your sister to the wolves, so you could go have an adventure, and let a bunch of pirates fuck you like a whore.

The warm metal dug into your palm as you gripped it, but you couldn’t take it off. 

My last selfish thing.

You pleaded with yourself, bargaining with your own thoughts as you crumpled to the floor in defeat. Sobs built up in your throat, and you didn’t have the strength to fight them.

Never again. I won’t be selfish again. 

I’ll protect her.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🤡🐊🤡~~~

“So what were your big, evil plans?”

“What are you asking me,” Crocodile arched a brow at the man. He tugged on Buggy’s hair, his lips curving into a smile before he caught a hint of fear in those crystal eyes. 

He didn’t want to see that fear anymore, especially since his brave, little clown kept trying. Buggy had even told him about Red Hair’s shit with Y/N’s father yesterday, because “secrets keep fucking shit up.”

His clown had made him promise not to kill the pretty boy, though. Not for that, at least. 

“Sorry, that’s a dumb question. What, uh…” Buggy panicked, remembering how grumpy the man got whenever someone mentioned Baroque Works. “Where did you grow up?”

“You wanna get to know me better, so you start with my evil plans,” Crocodile stopped laughing enough to tease. He had to hold his breath when he saw the clown grinning at him, practically glowing.

“Well, we are bad guys after all.”

“We’re not the true villains of this world,” he rasped, taking a swig of scotch before returning his hand to that lovely, blue hair. “But now our guild gets to hit back.”

“I thought Mihawk was the one with a grudge. ‘The Marine Hunter,’ right? I wonder what that’s—“

Buggy turned to ice when that large hand gripped under his chin to tilt his head up, but he melted under Crocodile’s soft gaze. 

It still didn’t make any sense.

“What about you, little clown?”

“Me? I just,” Buggy cleared his throat, heat moving up his neck, his face. 

This man was overwhelming. 

“I wanted to find treasure,” he shrugged, the lightness leaving his voice too fast. “Now I just wanna find her.”

Crocodile’s chest felt tight every time Buggy’s voice dipped like that. Everyone was hurting. He hadn’t kept any of them safe from pain. 

“I wanted to build a place, a home, where I could protect everyone I cared about from those true villains,” he recalled, the shame of that failure hitting differently now. “I wanted to keep my people safe, but I got too… All I cared about was my big, evil plan, until I didn’t have anyone left to protect.”

The silence between them was soft, and Crocodile let out a breath when a gloved hand touched his. 

“Well, daddy,” Buggy soothed with a laugh, “you’ve got a bunch of freaks to look after now. Do you—“

The snail. 

The one for agents. And Mihawk. 

Buggy’s hands flew toward Crocodile’s giant desk to answer while they clambered off the couch.

“Good evening, sir.”

“Zala,” Crocodile relaxed, still pulling out his notepad. “What’s the mission status? Is Marianne—“

“Hey boss, it was amazing! We should definitely go on more heist missions after some PTO.”

“Are you saying the mission’s complete? You only arrived in San Faldo yesterday. How did you infiltrate it so quickly?”

Crocodile reached out to gently nudge Buggy’s nervously bouncing body parts behind him so he wouldn’t be distracted while he stared at the snail. The clown mumbled his apology, sending his fidgeting limbs to the corner of the room while his head floated above the desk. 

“All I had to do was cry, and scream a little, and they locked me right up,” Marianne reported, cheerfully. “Creepy place to put an asylum, though. Every time I looked out a window I saw people in masks. Yikes.”

“Masks,” Buggy asked quietly.

“It’s that carnival city near Water 7,” Crocodile hushed, returning to his own questions. “Zala, what’s your report?”

“Marianne is right, we made a great team.”

“It was so badass, you should’ve—“

“She was able to use the fingerpaints during art therapy to color trap the staff while I used my spikes as lock picks. It was child’s play.”

“I didn’t wanna mess with the patients though, so I hope you don’t mind that we let them out. After I made all their mean nurses cry and drool first, of course. They really liked that.”

“She’s scary,” Buggy praised, impressed with the terrifying teen. 

“Well, what did you find on him?”

“Oh, we didn’t find anything on the doctor,” Marianne drawled, and the sound of frantic snapping came through. 

Luckily, Zala’s voice cut in before Crocodile’s veins could pop. 

“There wasn’t anything useful on Dr. Vorsan, but we did find something on the CFO.”

“A lot of somethings actually.”

“Marianne, why don’t you go check on them? Make sure they're alright?”

“What the fuck are you talking about,” Buggy growled, his whole body connected now as he spoke too close to the snail. 

The scarred man reached out to calm him, but felt his own sickness start to fester, coiling in his stomach.

“Well, Miss Sylvad was listed as a former patient, so we looked for her files, and she had two cabinets dedicated to her.”

“You didn’t read them, did you?” 

Buggy wasn’t breathing right.

“Of course not, Mr. President,” the agent assured, some fear coming through her voice now. “We brought all of her files with us, but there’s more.”

“Definitely more,” Marianne noted, her voice sounding closer as she went on. “I’m glad we stopped for more food, they look hungry.”

“Explain.”

“Right away, sir.”

“Yes, Mr. Zer—Executive Crocodile, sir,” Marianne stuttered, finally sounding serious, but Zala took the lead.

“Some of the patient files included cam-snails with their initials and dates on the shells. I assume they’re recordings of sessions. Most patients that had recordings only had one or two snails in the group enclosure.”

“How many does she have,” Buggy choked out. He was shaking, even with Crocodile’s warm hand on his back.

“At least thirty, Mr. President,” Marianne said gently.

Gentleness couldn’t ease the chaos inside him.

“ETA,” Crocodile managed, having to pull back his own shaky hand.

“About fourteen days. The soonest would be eleven if Daz can snag us a coated ship before we meet at Sabaody. We picked up the other agents too, so we shouldn’t run into any issues getting through.”

“That’s too late. Buggy, whatever’s in there could–”

“I’m not letting random people watch Y/N’s–watch whatever’s on those snails! It’s bad enough that I’m already listening, and all those people are watching her all the time. It’s not right!”

“Sir, we did steal their encryption snail,” Zala offered. “They must have used it for patient privacy, but the white snail is ours now, and it’s already set up to transmit.”

“Transmit…” 

“Yes, Mr. President. If you have a healthy pro-snail, we could securely transmit the recordings to you one at a time. We wouldn’t need to watch them ourselves.”

“No,” Buggy sneered at the larger man, who grimaced before giving orders. 

“Wait for our call, agents. We’re gonna talk it out.”

“No, we’re not watching them. It’s too much!”

“Sir, there’s one more thing you should know,” Zala hurried, not pausing before she let it out. “There were instructions on care, and data transfer from old to young snails, as well as backup transmission logs dating back years. Someone else has all of these recordings.”

…

“Sir, are you still there?”

“We’ll call you back.”

~~~

“She keeps getting violated! No fucking PRIVACY! We can’t watch them without her permission, we can’t do it. Please, Crocodile,” Buggy raged through the air, until she started to cry, too far away for him to hold.

Buggy was learning how to go empty like she did, and it chilled Crocodile to the bone. He guided his clown to slump onto that green couch again, wanting to take away the pain that kept making that painted face crumple.

“Let me do it, little clown,” he whispered, kissing his temple.

“No, she wouldn’t want…” Buggy’s voice broke. 

Those distant sobs were too much to take. 

“Remember that night you helped me carry our girl out of Adam’s room?”

“Yeah,” he frowned, not sure if he should go along with the distraction. 

“You said you wanted–”

“I am taking care of her,” the clown snarled, pulling away from the comfort his star couldn’t feel. “We shouldn’t watch.”

Crocodile leaned back, resisting his old ways that had earned him nothing but pain and loneliness. 

“Our sweet girl told me something that night, Buggy,” he confessed, watching his clown’s face shift from rage to confusion. “I don’t think she meant to tell me, and she made me promise not to tell anyone.”

“So don’t–”

“I’ll never tell,” he vowed again, and might have smiled at the way Buggy’s head tilted if he didn’t need him to say yes so badly. “But I’m pretty sure I know why Y/N was in that asylum. I’ll watch the recordings, so you don’t have to, and no one else will.”

Crocodile begged now, choking on his old, miserable soul. 

“Please, let me help her too, Buggy. Let me help my sweet girl.”

Buggy stared up at that frightening man, and at the hint of tears that threatened to spill down that scarred face.

He really does love her.

Now Buggy reached for the comfort that his star couldn't feel. He clung to that warmth, squeezing tighter when those hums of surprise and satisfaction vibrated through that massive body.

“Little clown…”

“Protect her,” Buggy gave in, exhaustion nearly stealing his voice. She was still sobbing in his head, still losing her fight to keep her pain inside. 

“Our girl needs you. She needs her Daddy.”

~~~🐊🤡🐊🤡~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

The ex-Warlord didn’t want to do it in here. He’d helped Y/N fall apart right over there, so beautiful in the dress Mihawk had picked out. Always so beautiful.

But it would take too long to set up another room, and he couldn’t make her wait over his own selfish wish to keep that memory untouched. Even if she never said it back, never felt it, she had opened him up. Crocodile had told his sweet girl that he loved her in this fancy conference room. 

Now he’d locked himself inside that room with two snails, and a bottle of scotch, about to ruin that memory. 

He couldn’t think about it while he waited. Just let the thick smoke of his cigar fill his mouth, the feel of it unable to calm him while he doodled a little bananawani in the corner of his notepad. 

He never got to show her…

“Zala?”

“Yes sir, are–”

“I’m ready. Send the first transmission.”

“Right away, sir. I believe this is the oldest recording. We’ll try to go in order, but it’s a little difficult keeping them all lined up.”

“Just send it.”

~~~

~~~⚫️⚫️⚫️~~~

Fifteen. She said she was fifteen when he died, so this can’t be too long after that. 

The image was cleaner than it should be. All the care and transfer to young snails must have kept the recording from degrading, even after all these years. 

Y/N’s young face was so clear on the projector screen, so clear that he almost walked to it, until the snail backed away from just her face, showing her at a table, slumped against the wall. Her eyes were almost crossed, staring into nothing. 

Then a voice came.

‘Good morning, Y/N, it’s Dr. Vorsan. Could you repeat your name for me?’

Sick laughter poured from the child’s lips, and Crocodile felt his long-neglected heart breaking more with every second it went on.

‘I don’t need to repeat it. You know it. You all know it.’

‘Everyone here wants to help you, Y/N. We want you to get well.’

‘And I want you to fucking DIE! Haha HA!! That's right, you piece of shit, I’m going to fucking KILL YOU!! You think you can– FUCK YOU, don’t fucking touch me! DONTFUCKINGTOUCHMMMN—‘

Nurses had swarmed her, blocking his view, but not before he noticed the restraints at her wrists. Her skin looked raw, like she’d tried to tear herself free with her nails, tried to tear through her own flesh. 

Crocodile didn’t notice the long lines his hook had already torn into the conference table.

He could see her again, and he memorized every face around her, every hand that held her trapped. One nurse even covered her lips until she bit them, only to let out another vile laugh before she cried.

‘No, please, don’t. Don’t touch me!’

‘It’s okay, Y/N. You’re not well. Just breathe, we’ll help you through this.’

The doctor’s offscreen voice didn’t stop her from snarling and pleading while another nurse stuck her with a needle. 

Y/N’s eyes started to flutter, her rage slowing until she was practically drooling, barely able to hold herself up in the wheelchair they dumped her in. 

‘daddy, please…’

She was so quiet. 

‘why’d you leave me here, daddy?’ 

~~~

Crocodile stared into nothing when the recording faded out, his ears ringing with a rage that could have drained the whole island of life. 

He couldn’t think. Almost charged through the door to find a fucking boat. Almost destroyed everything in sight.

My girl. My sweet girl.

The scarred man chugged half of the scotch since he knew he’d break the bottle soon, before making the call.

“Hello sir, did the–”

“Send the next one.”

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

~~~

~⚫~SUMMARY~⚫~

The above scene is from Crocodile’s POV as he watched a recording of the reader. The recording showed the reader at the age of fifteen, not long after her father passed. 

She was restrained at a table, and Dr. Vorsan’s voice came from off screen. He told her that they were trying to help her get well. The reader reacted with unsettling laughter, cursing, and death threats. 

Nurses were shown holding her down while she resisted, and ultimately gave her a shot that made her slump into a wheelchair. She called for her dad softly, asking why he had left her there. 

Crocodile struggled with fury at not being able to help her. He drank, and called Zala to transmit the next recording.

~⚫~SUMMARY~⚫~

~~~

~~~🐊🐊🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“Y/N, what happened? Did he hurt you?”

Kat growled her rage, her fingers digging into your skin while she struggled to pull you onto her lap. 

“N-no, he didn’t,” you coughed, then sobbed, then tried again. “He’s a good p-person.”

“Well, if good people make you cry like this, I’m glad we don’t get a lot of them around here.”

Laughs and sobs. 

And shame.

So fucking selfish. Making her take care of me again. Always about me. Fucking entitled brat, selfish bitch, weak—

“I’m so sorry, Kat,” you begged. Your pathetic sniveling came out muffled as you wrapped your arms around your head, curling in on yourself. 

“Sis, you’re okay. You’re safe. I’m safe. Why do you keep apologizing?”

Her fingers stroked along the side of your face, the parts that weren’t hidden by your shaking arms. Every memory of your failures as a sister filled your throat, threatening to spill and burn the world like lava. 

“I left you.”

Kat blinked slowly. Then frowned that perfect frown before she shook you, shocking your sobs away for a moment. 

“Don’t fucking do this! I’m a full ass adult, sis. I told you I didn’t want to run off with your clown, remember? Hey?”

Her words should have found their way inside, but you had already slipped out of yourself, your body limp, and useless beside her.

Your sister sighed, returning to gentle touches that didn’t feel real. 

“I don’t need you to protect me anymore,” she whispered, somehow reaching that floating part of you as though she knew where your mind had flown. “And if you only came back for that, then I need you to get the fuck out.”

A soft whine hit your throat, your body moving slowly. 

“You really want to be with those pirates,” Kat asked, voice soft and low while she studied your heavy eyes. “I don’t want you here if it’s going to tear you up like this. Maybe we can… I’m not watched like you are. Do you want me to try to call them? If I tell them you want to go back… I don’t know what they could do, but we can try.”

A million years were held inside you now. A million years to make the right choice.

“I’m sorry, Kat, I didn’t want to tell you... You were right. I don’t ever want to see those murderers— those monsters again. I shouldn’t have left. I should have listened to you.”

The best lies were true, but when truth was lost, you had to use what remained. 

You used the agonizing grief of losing your love to sell your tears, and you used every shred of hate you held for that traitor to make yourself believe your own rage.

“Did they hurt you?”

You took too long, letting silence lie for you. 

“I’m going to kill those fuckers. I bet we could hire someone to do it. Let me talk to Uncle—“

“Please don’t, Kat! I don’t want anyone else to know. I just want to forget it, all of it.”

It’s not a lie. It’s not a lie.

“Are you okay,” she asked after staring at you for long enough that you were afraid you'd failed again. Exhaustion fell on you, but you gave a weak smile at her question.

Another Sylvad specialty.

“I’m trying.”

You had missed those narrowed eyes so very much.

“Really, I want to be here, Kitty Kat,” you told the truth, laughing at the instinctual eye roll she gave at the old nickname. “I’m just having a rough time right now.”

“Have you ever not had a rough time? It feels like I’m related to a tragedy sometimes.”

Kat looked so pleased with herself when your jaw dropped, wiggling away from you when your shaky fingers started to poke at her ribs.

“Real nice, sis. Thanks!”

“I am extremely nice,” she deadpanned while she climbed to her feet. “There's a box of cookies in my suite if you want some. I ate like four of them before I came in here, so they should be—“

“Gimme!”

“Just don’t eat all of them,” she scolded, laughing as she walked away.

“I would never!”

Your mock outrage made her laugh harder, and then she was gone. That lie of a smile fell from your lips while you stared at the empty space she had just left.

Kat wasn’t there. She doesn’t know. She can’t.

Slipping away… but it was a different kind of lost. No more limp and useless limbs. No more tears unless you needed them to lie for you. You knew what you had to do.

i can pretend for you, kitty kat.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you!!

Author's Note: I've still been disappearing from the world. I've received some very recent help that might make things a bit easier IRL, so I hope I can talk to humans again soon. For now, I'm just so very very grateful for all of you. This story is helping me through some tough shit, and it wouldn't exist without all of the support, encouragement, and inspiration that y'all give me. I know this one was heavy. I hope that if it hit you hard, you know that you are not alone. Sometimes just seeing pain that looks like ours is a relief, a tiny respite from loneliness. I hope that my words can be that for you, and that we can all get through the tough times with just a little less loneliness. 💜

Fic Updates & Extras: I've included a map below with OP Canon and Numbers Game locations in case y'all would like to see where everybody's at and where the reader's memories occurred. I only included relevant locations and this is definitely not to scale. This map began as my need to ensure that the travel time between Karai Bari, Oak Roots Estate, and then Alabasta and the asylum made sense within the One Piece world. (Although that world doesn't make sense, lol. I added up just the travel time of the Straw Hats journey between islands, and with no stops it would take approx. 22.5 days to get from Alabasta to Egghead 😅) I apologize that I don't have the map or the timeline in text format yet. I will be adding that soon since images aren't accessible for everyone. Please let me know if you'd like that so that my adhd brain doesn't forget!!

Sources: The vast majority of the canon details were compiled by the sweet, glorious, super heroes at the One Piece Wiki, and The Library of Ohara. I would be lost without them!!!! 🙌😭🙏🏼 I'm basing the Numbers Game geography mainly off of This Map by xads181 on Reddit. It is so gorgeous and helpful! 😍 I also referenced This Map from the One Piece Wiki, and This Map from ClayStage.com. I made this map using miro.com.

Numbers Game Map ~ Chapter 34

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @caniseethefourthsword | @hey-august | @chaoticqueen33 | @destinationmars | @novakitten0901 | @h0n3y-l3m0n05 | @dorky-birdie | @szired | @pinejayy | @laws-wife-things | @jadeddangel | @gingernut1314 | @urlocaltwink | @blue-rae18 | @bontensbabygirl | @bbnbhm | @0-sparkling-lace-0 | @ihearthazuki | @mikisspeak | @djloveyou3000 | @mercymccann | @horse-and-writer97

Part 35

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

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Slytherin Boys Personality

I have now been able to do all of the boys personalities. Let me know if there is anything I left out please

Draco Malfoy: 

Evil personality that can be redeemed with enough work, or with the love of a certain someone. Refers to his girl as his Princess. Daddy issues.

Ambitious: Drive for power, recognition, and success as well as uphold his family legacy and prove himself as a worthy member of a pure-blood wizard community

Proud: Superiority complex that leads to displays of condescension and arrogance. Can get him into trouble because he may say things that he does not mean out of anger because the prejudice is what he knows 

Insecure: Despite outward confidence, struggles with deep seated insecurities that has him constantly seeking validation and approval from his peers (and his parents). This fuels his need to prove himself and maintain a certain image. 

Short Temper: Loses his cool very quickly due to his need to be right and prove himself, but will attempt to make it right fairly quickly 

Blaze Zabini

Probably the most positive and playful out of the entire group

Loyal: Loyal to a fault. His friends are above everything, even his love interest at times. They are the ones who are going to decide everything for him even if he doesnt realize it is happening 

Sensitive: Overly sensitive to the point where he is going to start arguments over little things. He doesnt enjoy PDA because he feels that it makes him look weak and he does not want to be perceived that way. On the plus side, his sensititiviy to things also means he always dresses well and smells really nice

Smart: Definitely the best study buddy. He is the person that others would copy off of it 

Playful: The kind of guy that is going to playully tease you but never in a way that will make you upset. 

Player: He is attractive and he knows it and will often playfully flirt in order to make things go his way. 

Lorenzo Berkshire

Short Temper and Holds a Grudge: Will get angry very quickly and then ignore you for days until he realizes that he misses you and makes it up to you by doing something that shows you that he cares. 

Trust Issues: He is the kind of guy that would create a fake account to “catch” you cheating or will flirt with a girl whenever you are talking to much to another boy

Funny: Has a great sense of humor because of all of the things that he has been through in his life. When everything is at his best, he is a very happy person. 

Mattheo Riddle

Daddy issues and a drug addict who loves sometimes a little too hard and a little too much 

a highly imaginative, highly intelligent, and highly sensitive person, gets into fights

Possessive: He will defend the things and people that belong to him or have value to him and does not care about the consequences

Toxic and loves to party- will be the kind of guy who will pull you back and forth in a relationship but its not because he doesnt actually have feelings for you, but because he doesnt know how to handle them when he does have them. 

Tom Riddle

Smart: Smart without even trying and makes it known whenever you make a mistake because you are therefore dumb in comparison

Jealous: What's his is his and he will take anyone down whom he believes is going to take away the things that are his

Anger issues: Does not know how to cool down and won’t admit when he is wrong. Instead, when he realizes that he is even slightly in the wrong he will attempt to make up for it and move past it without actually talking about it 

Theodore Nott

French in a lot of ways: Smoker, calls you Bella for beautiful, and is rude 

Protective: The kind of person who is going to drop kick anyone that says anything negative about you or any of his people. 

Troublemaker: He does not care about the rules so he will do what he has to do in order to make his point known. He is always in trouble of some kind and that gets in the way of a lot of things. 

Player: Has had many many girlfriends and has a list of people that he needs to avoid because of the way that he has toyed with and broken their heart