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twilightau · 1 year

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ENHYPEN and why their dynamics works

a/n: i have been thinking about the groups i stan these days (read: always) and i decided i will make a mini analysis on what i have observed whenever i see them interact with one another.

disclaimer: i only did one year of psych and i am no professional in anything character/relationship-related, so for legal reasons, this is just for fun.

~~~

the starting point: enhypen is formed out of contestants of the survival show i-land. and despite it being quite fun to watch while we were all locked away bc quarantine, i think we all kinda realize how mentally draining i-land must have been for everyone on it.

(literally, a traineeship is already social-depriving, and then you send them to the middle of nowhere to show them that if you don't work hard, you'll get a shitty living space for the following no-one-knows-how-long)

what has always stuck with me is how ni-ki said he didn't understand why the other contestants didn't work as hard (to his standard) to go up to the egg again.

sure, enhypen is made up by fan-favorites and fan-voting, and sure, enhypen might be an extremely visual group (not really a downside tbh, we love eye-candy right?) but they are also EXTREMELY goal-oriented.

both in i-land and right now as a group, each individual KNOWS what has to be done to make them more successful and everyone works together because they share the same goal and passion.

leadership: i understand how people at the start thought heeseung would be the leader, essentially he has some attributes that are fitting and he already had a good amount of respect and acknowledgment from the final members of enhypen. but as i said, each and every member is already quite self-aware what their role is supposed to be to elevate enhypen to the next level, and heeseung's role is to appeal as the unofficial main vocal and a lead dancer/center. he wants to excel at his role and made a decision (and maybe his short leadership in i-land has made an impact but i won't address it fully here lol).

on the other side, jungwon is the perfect fit for a multitude of reasons. but one of the major reasons is his sense of discipline. jungwon does not need to be a helicopter-mom/military style of leader (not saying heeseung would be, but other members might) because that isn't what enhypen needs. he takes care of the small details and makes sure that what has to be done is done (cue him telling members to quiet down, fix their appearances for them etc), but he never over-uses his authority in a way that makes his role as leader extremely obvious.

he is reassuring when the members do need some guidance, but he also kinda just let's the members be bc of the trust enhypen has in each other. because leadership doesn't work without the group, and enhypen knows that. the hyungs know when to treat jungwon as a younger sibling and when to listen to him as a leader. in times when jungwon isn't heard by accident, there is always one hyung who tries to grab the attention to or becomes quiet first himself. it is the teamwork that makes jungwon's leadership ideal.

relationships: here i might say something that could offend some fans (if i haven't already said something offensive that is) but enhypen is not quite a family kind of relationship.

and it doesn't have to be, these boys have been through a lot together, but it hasn't even been that long since the formation of enhypen. a family-kind of dynamics isn't formed that easily and it goes far beyond just caring about each other in ways a colleague would.

BUT because of their special way of getting to know each other (before i-land they didn't all train together) i would say they do see each other as more than just members of the same group. enhypen doesn't hesitate to share their joys together. they seek each other to celebrate good things and see each other as precious friends. some open up to each other in hard times, and others might not, which is completely normal because you don't expose every single thing to each of your friends. it is shown in the way you see them talk about how they confide with certain members if they have a hard time, and how other members always say how much they appreciate the member who had to go through something without the others.

sometimes they cry together, but they prefer to make each other smile.

overall: enhypen functions well as a group because of their dedication to their crafts. they are good performers and funny entertainers with a passion that has brought them success and will continue to be their main drive forward. the members take care of themselves, and their leader connects them together into a group that is one of the faces of the fourth generation k-pop.

~~~

a/n outro: feel free to express your thoughts as i did with mine! idk why i wrote this i needed to blow off some steam while procrastinating the readings i have to do for tomorrow </3 this was my ted talk.

#enhypen #enhypen heeseung #lee heeseung #enhypen jay #park jongseong #enhypen jake #sim jaeyun #enhypen sunghoon #park sunghoon #enhypen sunoo #kim sunoo #enhypen jungwon #yang jungwon #enhypen niki #nishimura riki #enhypen scenarios #maks_talks

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myrulia · 3 years

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About the Kokushibou x Muzan little sister ask can I get prompt 8 please 😅 sorry for the inconvenience.

.｡.:*✧Prompt 8: "It feels right, promise I don't mind."

.｡.:*✧Warnings: Slight sexual tension

╰╴⇢｡.:*✧A/N: If an appearance/personality is made evident, then it is because you are related to Muzan.

`` [Y/N], my beloved sister, have you considered ever finding a suitable partner such as I did? ``

Your elder brother, Lord Kibutsuji Muzan, spoke as you both were seated in one of the many rooms of the Infinity Castle that was well away from everyone else since your discussion held private matters.

`` Brother, you made your past wives go insane, and the one you have now is a fake. So therefore, it does not count. ``

Muzan let out a huff of annoyance at the same time you did, the habit being something you both inherited unfortunately which led to the Upper Moon Two to tease you about, which led to him becoming disciplined right after.

`` That is not the point. [Y/N], I do not want you to be alone- ``

`` But I'm not alone, I have you and the other Upper Moons..- ``

`` Ah yes, the Upper Moons you say? ``

There was a glint of mischievousness in Muzan's eyes that you became all too accustomed with, knowing he was coming up with a great plan that you know utterly nothing about. Truth be told, finding a partner would not seem like the worst thing, but your stubbornness has stopped you from giving into your older brother's wishes.

`` Since you brought up the Upper Moons, I'll start from there. ``

You quirked a brow up in response to his choice of words, crossing your arms habitually and holding the same accursed scowl Muzan would also make during his meetings.

`` Why don't you get to know them, `` he started, referring to the higher ranks. `` The Upper Three ranks would make suitable partners and would have no trouble protecting you when I am absent. ``

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose trying to see a somewhat decent future with any of them. Sure, the idea had its pros, but far too many cons, especially with Douma. He was tall and handsome, sure, but had little to no emotions whatsoever and was too much of a masochist for you to handle.

Then there is Akaza. He was respectful to women and you actually found that trait attractive, but he was too focused on becoming strong and probably would not even give you the attention you would need.

Lastly, Kokushibou. An even taller demon who was quiet, well reserved, and surprisingly good looking despite having three sets of eyes. For once, you did not know the male's motives due to his nature, which allured you to him further. You have tried to strike up a conversation but he was quick to end it and would disappear somewhere else in the Castle.

`` Muzan, I would never consider Douma suitable, Akaza is a 50/50 chance, but Kokushibou- well..- ``

`` Well? ``

You wanted to voice out your opinion of the Upper Moon One to your brother, but knowing him, he would rat you out instantly just so that your relationship with him would get a move on so he can be satisfied.

`` Actually, nevermind, I'll take some time to think about it brother. ``

You got up from your chair and exited from the large room, jumping from the balcony and onto another platform. You repeated this process until you were well away from Muzan's quarters.

You were not even set on a destination, you just wanted to clear your head of his desire to find you a future husband. The idea was not a bad one, in fact it was a smart move in the first place, but it felt forced and not genuine to have to pick based off your brother telling you to.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you did not notice the large figure just in front of you, and before you knew it, you bumped right into the figure's back, causing it to fall over with you on top.

`` Who- ``

`` I apologize! `` You blurted out before the voice could finish. `` I was not looking where I was going and ended up tumbling onto you so I'm sorry. ``

You quickly got off of the large figure who also stood up and adjusted his hakama accordingly that got slightly messed up in the fall. Once the figure is turned around, you are met with 3 pairs of eyes glaring down at your shorter form. It was none other than Kokushibou, or better known as the Upper Rank One based on the kanji in his eyes. You look stunned as you take in his appearance. You expected a much more piercing gaze due to him usually having one, but instead of that, his face was more relaxed and dare I say neutral.

`` There is no need princess, `` the male said as he bowed in respect, not daring to leave unless you order for him to do so. The demons that lurked around the Castle were ordered by your high and mighty older brother to refer to you as "Princess" since he deems himself as the king. You objected of course, but in this moment you had no ounce of rejection to give. Usually you would dismiss the demons that call you such a thing, but it felt different with Kokushibou.

`` Still I bumped into yo- nevermind. Kokushibou I can trust you right? ``

Your question came out of the blue for the demon. Why were you suddenly asking if you can trust a man like him? Of course he did devote his life to both you and Muzan but his inner feelings and self doubt block himself from doing so fully. You always made things difficult for him.

`` Yes, you can entrust me with your life. ``

`` Are you only saying that because my brother told you to, or are you genuine? ``

The demon was rather taken aback by your bold choice of words, his eyes slightly enlarging before going back to a neutral expression. He tilted his head to the side ever so slightly, confusion taking over his features.

`` Why would I not want to protect someone dear to me? ``

You took a singular step back, desperately fighting the heat rushing to your cheeks and so to not embarrass yourself in front of him you covered the bottom half of your face and feigning a look of pondering.

`` If you are genuine as you claim to be, then I shall tell you. Muzan wants me to find a suitable partner. ``

You were blunt yet again, believing that sugarcoating information only draws away time that could be spent doing something much more worthwhile. You removed your hand from your face, now holding a stern look with the much taller Upper Moon whose expression has shifted. A visible vein was pulsing on his neck that you learned was due to annoyance.

`` Have you found anyone? `` Kokushibou said with no clear indication of aggravation, but you knew of the male's habits from the years that you have you have to learn of the Upper ranks and their habits. You stepped closer towards him until your chest dangerously brushed against his, your hand reaching up to his hand and grabbing it gently. Kokushibou tensed up at the feeling of your soft hand being interlocked with his, so much so that he could not take his eyes off of your enticing ones.

`` Yes. You. ``

You stood on your tippy toes just to move closer to his face. His height may have been an obstacle but you succeeded, leaving the demon to be well enough flustered for it to be noticeable. Your little manipulative tactics resembled those of Muzan's, you are siblings after all. You tugged your hand away from his, sliding it up his forearm ever so slowly and to his chest, resting there and not daring to break the eye contact you have built.

`` Even though I am directly blood related to Muzan, would you be willing to be my partner and love me for who I am instead of who I am related to? ``

Kokushibou was well aware of what you meant with those words, after all he himself is very intelligent and could see through your advances. But even so, he found himself falling for them time and time again. You could simply be doing your hair and his mind would wander to how your raven locks would feel in between his fingers. With you being his Lord's younger sister, he thought it would be practically sinning to think of you in such ways, but now that the opportunity presented itself, he would not let it slip from his grasp.

`` It feels right, promise I don't mind. ``

`` That's all I needed to hear from you Kokushibou. ``

It took one small lean forward for your lips to land on his. Kokushibou instinctively returned the kiss as if he was programed to do so, except it was his full will driving him forward to finally have you as his own. To be able to have you by his side was almost a dream come true for him without even realizing it. Demons are essentially deprived of any real feeling so to have you return his feelings of infatuation fed into his desire all the same.

Although before the kiss could turn into a much more scandalous one, you retracted, but cupped his face in your hands.

`` Would He approve of this? `` Kokushibou asked whilst peering into your enchanting eyes again. His hands had moved to your waist but were quickly removed after the kiss, his own fears blocking him from allowing himself to submit to your enticing touch.

`` I don't need his approval, I am my own person who can make her own decisions. But, it was his idea so there is no need to worry. ``

`` That is all I needed to hear. ``

Kokushibou was the one who leaned forward this time, but before your lips could connect, he went to your neck and bit on your skin harshly which was bound to leave a mark. You gripped at his hair and tugged him away from your neck after you let out a small whine since your greed was increasing.

`` I am simply marking what is mine now, isn't that right, Princess? ``

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

#kokushibou #kny kokushibou #kokushibo x reader #kny x reader #kny imagines #demon slayer kokushibou #kny headcanons #kokushibou headcanons #kny muzan #☆Myrulia Lyric Prompts

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goldenlaquer · 3 years

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OOF. Best human being on heart opened requests and I was totally not ready. But my 🅱️u$$y is always ready for Satoru and Nanamin. If it's really okay to send jjks requests, could I ask for Gojo and Kento's reaction when s/o suddenly calls them "daddy"? I'm sorry for being a sinful, shameless lady (maybe not so sorry). I hope you have a wonderful day and send u a big hug💕🌸

I like that you’re a sinful, shameless lady.

Jujutsu Kaisen NSFW Headcanons:

Gojo Satoru:

You stare at him. He stares at you. The corner of his lip slowly turns up—and ooohhh you know that damn expression like the back of your hand, it’s the beginnings of a smug oya?— and you start jerking your head left and right, frantically shaking your head off like a terrible liar, nonononono

But you did. You did say it. There’s no technique great enough to turn back time and fix this. You said it and he heard it and now he’s slowly working out the fingers that are nestled deep inside you, the very same fingers that turned you into a little, doddering fool and made you squeak out-

“Daddy?” He wickedly repeats, tongue rolling the word in his mouth, savoring it like a delightful candy, every syllable endlessly dragged out. He’s doing this on purpose, he must be. A tongue peeks out to press against his sharp canine. His eyes don’t leave your face, forcing you to stare back into the impossible blue.

In some ways, he always knew. Long before you even whimpered it out as you did just now. Call it intuition. Call it six eyes. You were the type, Gojo knew, to have that sort of naughty kink. You thought he didn’t notice the way you’ve been struggling to hold it on the tip of your tongue? Gojo doesn’t like this sort of inhibition from you. No, he’d much prefer you free and delightfully unrestrained. For your sake and also for his. How could you deprive him of the joys? All the delicious pathways he could have been taking, all the various ways he would’ve had you in. Sweet and shy, holding your thighs open in plea, whispering ”please, daddy?” Rude and bratty and in sore need of discipline, bound and starved of his cock, stuttering out apologies to your daddy. Babbling and drooling, the only word that you can squeeze out from your mind being daddy.

His fingers decide to change course, slipping right back in your slit. You gasp and scramble between your thighs to tug at his wrist, to no use. He knows his way, guided by your contractions towards that spot, and unrelentingly rubs at it, laughing at your sorry attempts to get him out. He’s already made you cum once, you’re a bit too sensitive, overwhelmed by the onslaught of pleasure. It’s a bit cruel. But that’s fine. Gojo isn’t exactly known for being nice.

He’s made up his mind. Until you call him daddy again, he’s not gonna to stop. Gojo will, as always, prevail!

Nanami Kento:

This is the case of, Why The Fuck Aren’t You Calling Him Daddy? Rice is white. Sky is blue. Nanami is Daddy. Laws of nature.

But of course you inevitably do. It was done in chaos of the moment. Your mental barriers were down and the only thing you were perceiving was his thick cock in you. And Nanami figures that you didn’t even realize that you said it. Fucked-out creature that you are now, body limp on the sheets as you blearily look up at him, eyes unseeing and your face hot and sweaty. Not a single evidence of you registering what you had unwittingly gasped out in the midst of your terrific orgasm, no signs of taking any responsibility for your actions.

He pulls out from your pussy with a sigh. Pushes his hair out of his face. Rubs his jaw while considering you.

Nanami wasn’t born yesterday and he’s also not a prude. Society has always been ensnared in a constant state of change: meanings modify, certain things become acceptable, certain things become unacceptable. One who cannot keep up is left behind, and Nanami doesn’t like being ignorant. So yes, he knows about the less-than-innocent interpretation of the word “Daddy”, knows what it is, and what it isn’t.

Just wasn’t expecting for you to say it to him, consciously or not.

And he also did not expect his reaction to it.

See the thing is, Nanami doesn’t pretend to understand slang. Understand the meaning and context in which it is used? Yes. But understand why the youth seem to throw away the perfectly fine dictionary aside in favor of, frankly, some of the most ridiculous drivel he’s ever heard and read about? No. In his opinion, the title, daddy, is ridiculous drivel.

Perhaps it was because he didn’t apply himself, imagine himself on the receiving end of “Daddy!”, the word whined and panicked and breathy by a silky voice, as hands tore down his back and legs clung on his waist for dear life, a small, tight cunt spasming uncontrollably around his cock, wringing out his spend without shame. Well, it would’ve been impossible to imagine anyway; this was something he had to experience first-hand for himself.

And experience it he did. And now he’s staring at his come trickling from your pussy, his cock inconceivably still red and hard, and the only intelligent thought on his mind, is the vague inclination to rewrite his exact opinion on the ridiculous drivel that is daddy.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #gojo satoru #nanami kento #gojo satoru headcanons #nanami kento headcanons #answered ask #asks closed

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whumpinggrounds · 2 years

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Sleeping Beauty - chained to the bed and/or smothered with pillow

WOOHOO ANOTHER DRABBLE

and let me just say....this one goes hard

this incredibly specific just-for-me ask game is still open btw! drop a fairy tale title with or without a form of torture that fits with said fairy tale, and delilah and i will talk it over ;)

tagging the L&D fan club aka @hearse-song, @brutal-nemesis, and @whumpy-writings, @lonesome--hunter !

without further adieu - sleeping beauty himself -

CW: male whumpee, big whumpee, little whumper, female whumper, intimate whumper, creepy whumper, long term captivity, noncon touch (nonsexual), smothering, oxygen deprivation, whumpee fighting back (not sure how to tag??), guilt, self-loathing, angst

Most nights, Delilah lets Liam curl up on the couch, long body curled uncomfortably within its rounded arms. She swans on about being chaste, although now that Liam knows she’s really Sarah Cunningham, he’s pretty sure that’s not, like, technically true. He knows better than to raise that point with Delilah, though, and more importantly, the idea of laying in bed with her still makes him feel small and sick and afraid, then doubly stupid for feeling so small and sick and afraid.

But the point isn’t his feelings, the point is that Liam is grateful for the stupid little couch, even though it’s old and the cushions are flatter than they could be. Most nights he shivers, missing a blanket, but he’d take the cold on his bare skin before he’d jump in bed with Delilah.

Tonight, she’s not giving him a choice.

Everything else, up to now, has been normal. She made dinner – some kind of thick potato soup, and Liam couldn’t tell if he loved it because he was starving, or if he loved it because it was good. They’d eaten together at the table, her talking in that weird, old-timey way, and Liam, nervous as a trapped rabbit, doing his best to keep up. Then she’d curled up on the couch to read, and he’d sat as far away from her as he could, staring at the fire, trying to imagine he was anywhere but here.

Eventually, Delilah had slid her bookmark into her book, and then she’d stood and stretched. Liam had been looking over at the indent she’d left in the couch cushions, wondering if he’d be weak pathetic disgusting for lying down in her leftover warmth.

And then she’d called to him, from her place in the bedroom doorway.

“Come to bed with me, darling.”

Eyes going wide, Liam’s eyes jump from the couch to the doorway and back. “W-what?”

“Come on, love.” She tips her head, watching him. “Come to bed.”

“But…” Liam’s head is blank for too long. Whole long, terrifying seconds pass, during which Delilah’s eyes start to narrow, and Liam’s heart rate jumps to triple time. “But, um, I thought you were, uh, being chaste?”

Delilah laughs, but her eyes stay narrow, accusatory. “I just think it’d be nice to sleep together, darling. We certainly won’t be immoral about it.”

“I, um…” Liam swallows. “I wouldn’t want to…to take advantage of, of a princess. Like yourself.”

The words always seem so stupid to him, but it’s the kind of thing that Delilah goes for. Her eyes soften. “You’re very gallant,” she tells him softly. “But I’m certain it’s all right.”

She’s standing there waiting for him, and Liam is frozen in place on the couch. He just wants to hide and shrink and disappear, and instead he’s sitting there dumbly, all six feet of him motionless and exposed. For the first time in his life, Liam has started to wish he was smaller. Something about it feels safer – the ability to fold up and disappear.

Under his panicked gaze, Delilah crosses her arms across her chest. “Unless you don’t want to spend the night with me.”

Now Liam’s breath stops entirely. She doesn’t have the Taser in her hands now, but he knows she keeps it somewhere in the bedroom. He knows she’s not above using it for discipline. “No!” The cry is wild, raw, unplanned. “I mean – I mean yes! I mean I want to. I want to. I do.”

Eyes narrowed, Delilah regards him critically. “Do you?”

Nodding, feeling sick, Liam lets his fear turn the words fervent. “I do. I do. I do.”

An endless moment passes as she judges his sincerity. Then, a wide, blank smile, that Liam knows not to trust. Delilah’s happiness is never as simple as she’d like it to be. Somewhere under all the pretense and all the crazy, she knows just as well as he does that none of this is real. When that part starts to wake up, that’s when Liam is in trouble.

Now, though, with the placid smile in place, Liam thinks he might be safe. He stands on shaky legs and stumbles after her to the bedroom. He’s wearing the same old dirty jeans, but Delilah says nothing about it. She scoops up her long nightgown and goes to change in the bathroom. Left to his own devices, Liam crawls beneath the covers, figuring that if he’s stuck here anyway, he may as well make the most of the warmth while he can. Then, blanket pulled up to his chin, he wonders if going along with things so easily means that deep down, he doesn’t mind it.

Delilah returns and turns out the lights without another word, leaving Liam to his doubt and self-loathing, by her side in the darkness. Minutes pass of careful breathing, and Liam thinks she might be starting to drift off. Then her perfectly alert voice surprises him, out of the darkness.

“Darling, I wonder if you meant it, earlier.”

“W-what?”

“When you said you’d like to be here, with me.”

Letting his eyes fall shut, Liam tries to calm his racing heart. He wants his voice to come out steady, sure. She can’t see his face in the darkness. He needs his tone to make her believe. “I meant it, Delilah.” He tries to make his voice warm, though the words are ash on his tongue. “I meant it, princess.”

“Hm.” Delilah’s voice sounds faraway, and he can’t tell if it’s because she’s sleepy, or she’s drifting. It’s utterly dark in the room, and as Liam feels her shifting beside him, his stomach curdles with fear. What is she doing?

“The thing is…” The voice comes from above him, and Liam startles, hitting his head on the headboard. “I don’t know if I believe you.”

The pillow comes down hard over his face, and in a distant, removed part of his brain, Liam wonders yet again at just how strong Delilah has turned out to be. Most of him, however, is preoccupied with pushing back against her, flailing ineffectually at an enemy he can’t see, an enemy who is doing her best to smother him.

It takes longer than it should to throw her off. He’s much stronger than she is, and much bigger, but Delilah is single-minded in her urge to press the fabric down over Liam’s mouth. Her entire body is pressing the pillow against his face, making it impossible to draw breath. There’s a vacuum in his chest, a hollow howling feeling in his lungs, in his throat. His mouth is full of fabric and his nose is smashed against his face and his eyes are running, thoughts a scramble, arms thrashing –

One hand catches her shoulder, and with an almost instinctive motion, he hurls her away from him. As he lays there, gasping like a fish, he hears her cry out as she falls backwards. The blankets jerk hard, and there’s a thud as she – as she falls all the way off the bed.

At first, Liam was crying from lack of air. Now, still gasping, the tears keep running out of fear.

Overhead, the lights come on. Liam cringes, bringing his hands up to hide his smarting eyes. More than that, he’s a coward. More than that, he doesn’t want to see the rage on Delilah’s face. Like a little kid, he curls away from her side of the bed, holding his face in his hands, shoulders shaking as the tears progress to sobs.

He’s tired. He’s so tired. He’s tired and god, please, he doesn’t want to be in pain.

“You hit me.”

Delilah’s voice is small, childish. Peeking out from behind his hands, he sees her come around the side of the bed and hides again. Her small, cold hand lands on his shoulder and he flinches. She doesn’t hurt him, just shakes him, trying to get his attention. “You…you hit me.”

Reluctantly, Liam lowers his hands again, looks up at Delilah with wet brown eyes.

She’s standing there, one arm still stretched out to put her hand on her shoulder. The other is pressed over her cheek, where his hand must have caught her as he swung. Slowly, she lowers it, and yeah, there’s a big red mark there, across the top of her cheek.

After all the pain she’s dealt to him, Liam is unprepared for the wave of guilt that hits him when he sees that mark. Delilah, despite everything, is still so small when she stands before him. Her voice, so high and delicate, is all hurt confusion, like she truly can’t understand why he’s done this to her. Seeing her, small and wounded, Liam’s throat closes up.

Slowly, he sits up. They look at each other, Delilah big-eyed and waifish in her white nightie, Liam shirtless in dirty jeans, huge as some hulking monster in her bed. When she spins on her heel, Liam’s eyes drop to the floor and he tries to fight the new rising wave of tears, the hot sick-making wave of shame. When she returns with a pair of handcuffs, he presses his hands together behind his back without any argument. They both move in silence. Liam doesn’t know how angry Delilah is. He can’t look at her face. He can’t look at the bruise forming where he hit her.

With a hand on his shoulder, Delilah guides him back down, so he’s lying on his back on his handcuffed hands, utterly unable to defend himself. Hovering over him, she finds his eyes, and when he turns his head away, she takes his chin in two fingers and forces him to look.

“You hit me,” she repeats. “You hurt me.”

Throat thick, Liam nods. His voice comes out a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s not enough,” Delilah tells him, and she sounds on the verge of tears. Liam feels the same hysterical need to cry, but he closes his eyes and resists as best he can.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. At least they both know he’s telling the truth. This time, he does his best not to fight when she brings the pillow to his face again.

#liam and delilah #whump writing #male whumpee #female whumper #intimate whumper #creepy whumper #noncon touch #oxygen deprivation #smothering #angst #guilt #self-loathing #whumpee fighting back #defiant whumpee #kinda?#liam is not exactly defiant #long term captivity

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msclaritea · 2 years

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.This new Church of Scientology is an exciting moment... If we really want to change the world...we have to treat all people with the respect they are due as human beings and we must fight against oppression wherever we may find it. That is why the words are exciting of your founder, L. Ron Hubbard...The Church of Scientology I know has made a difference because your creed is a universal creed, and one that speaks to people everywhere. I look forward to helping you bring about the difference for everyone in the city [Los Angeles], the golden state of California, and from here the nation, and from the nation the world.”

— Karen Bass, at the 2010 dedication of Scientology’s remodeled Los Angeles headquarters

Bass was right about one thing: Scientology founder Hubbard’s words were “exciting.” Here’s a small sampling of his written doctrines and policies from the 1960s and 70s, which staffers were required to follow—then and always:

“The only way you can control people is to lie to them....Scientologists are trained to lie and never defend, always attack (and generate money)....MAKE MONEY. MAKE MORE MONEY. MAKE OTHER PEOPLE PRODUCE SO AS TO MAKE MORE MONEY... [Church critics] may be deprived of property or injured by any means by any Scientologist without any discipline of the Scientologist. May be tricked, sued or lied to or destroyed... Start feeding lurid, blood sex crime actual evidence on the attackers to the press. Don’t ever tamely submit to an investigation of us... Beware of attorneys who tell you not to sue... The purpose of the suit is to harass and discourage rather than to win... If attacked on some vulnerable point by anyone or anything or any organization, always find or manufacture enough threat against them to cause them to sue for peace....We’re playing for blood, the stake is EARTH.

In a 2010 speech, Biden VP candidate Karen Bass heaped praise on the Scientology cult.

By now it should be clear that U.S. Congresswoman Karen Bass, a leading contender for Joe Biden’s VP pick, didn’t know the first thing about Scientology or its founder when she waxed so poetic in 2010, or else she had her reasons for ignoring the truth. (Hubbard’s words have been in articles, books and news broadcasts for decades.) She praised the group again in 2012 and in 2013, with proclamations for its activities in “human rights” education.

And she is misleading the public about it right now.

Through the decades, the church has duped a number of politicians into being “useful idiots” for their grand designs. And ignorance about Scientology can be very embarrassing. In 1991, I reported that Illinois Governor Jim Edgar, noting that Scientology's founder "has solved the aberrations of the human mind," had proclaimed March 13th "L. Ron Hubbard Day." (He rescinded the proclamation later that month, once he learned who Hubbard really was.) But, to my knowledge, no elected official who has praised Hubbard and Scientology has ever been as close as Bass is to running for the country’s vice presidency, and, if the 77-year-old Biden wins—a heartbeat away from the presidency itself.

She continues to openly lobby to be on Biden’s ticket, despite a video of the 2010 speech which was brought to light recently by the Daily Caller, a right-wing media outlet. (Equally problematic is that, as recently as 2016, Bass was praising another ruthless leader, Fidel Castro—seemingly ignorant, at best, and certainly tone deaf to the issues. More on that later.)

Scientologists are pretty good at brainwashing people. Did they get to Bass? Not likely. Perhaps Bass received campaign contributions over the years from Scientologists that inspired her to say something positive about the cult? It needs to be asked, and probed. (From 2004-2010, she was a California state assembly member, and has been a member of the U.S. House of Representatives since 2013. She was born, raised, schooled and—as far as I can tell from her short website biography—has always lived in L.A., one of the two de facto headquarters of Scientology.)

Or maybe she was simply too busy in 2010 and 2012 and 2013 to do a five-minute Google search before using her prestige and influence as an elected official to publicly sanction the group—no doubt helping attract new members into an organization that has been shown to be the antithesis of treating “all people with the respect they are due as human beings.” [Neither the church nor Congresswoman Bass immediately responded to my request for interviews for this story; if they do, I’ll post their responses.]

Also troubling, Bass apparently didn’t do that five-minute Google on Saturday, before releasing a brief statement on Twitter that reads, in part: “Since then [her 2010 speech], published first-hand accounts in books, interviews and documentaries have exposed this group. Everyone is now aware of the allegations against Scientology.”

Huh? There’s not a word in her statement about what she now thinks about the church. Why is that? Moreover, seasoned reporters as far back as the 1970s have exposed the church, often at great personal peril. And Bass surely must know that responsible media outlets would never have published or aired their pre-2010 exposés of the church without having “first-hand accounts.” Bass’s position is a bit like saying, “I didn’t know Charlie Manson was a bad guy; I thought he was a strong family man.” Everything the congresswoman needed to learn about the church was a matter of public record, always a mere fingertip press away, and she should have known it.

In 1986—a quarter-century before Bass’s cut-off date—I wrote a lengthy Forbes magazine exposé called “The Prophet and Profits of Scientology.” It laid out how Hubbard was clearly insane, and how he viciously abused his acolytes—many of whom provided such “first-hand accounts” in sworn court affidavits and in interviews with Forbes. Among them: Don Larson, who served as the church’s $25-per-week “finance ethics officer.” In that role, Larson claimed he alone brought nearly 300 recalcitrant Scientologists to “Rehabilitation Project Forces” at church centers around the world over a period of 14 months, until his own detention and departure in 1983.

“I was the hatchet man,” he told us. “I was responsible for all sorts of Gestapo-type stuff.” In these detention programs, staff members would be coerced into performing hard labor, eating leftovers out of buckets and sleeping on floors. One of the church’s main detention centers, known as “The Hole,” was on a 700-acre compound roughly a 90-minute drive from Bass’s current office in L.A., and had been exposed by insiders and written about extensively by journalists for decades.

An “Editor’s Comment” that ran with the 1986 story addressed the subject of first-hand witnesses. It read: “How credible are they? The issue has been raised. Here's Judge Paul Breckenridge Jr., Superior Court of California, who presided over one Scientology lawsuit: ‘In all critical and important matters, their testimony was precise, accurate, and rang true... Each of these persons literally gave years of his or her respective life... Each has manifested a waste and loss or frustration which is incapable of description. Each... is still bound by the knowledge that the Church has in its possession his or her most inner thoughts and confessions, all recorded in... security files of the organization, and that the Church or its minions is fully capable of intimidation or other physical or psychological abuse if it suits their ends.’”

So much for “your creed is a universal creed,” as Bass proclaimed.

The 1986 Forbes story also revealed how Hubbard apparently looted the church of enough money to have been on the Forbes 400 list of richest Americans—had he not died earlier that year under mysterious circumstances. (He had gone underground for several years to a ranch outside L.A. until his death, in large part to hide from an IRS criminal probe.) Around the time we published, the church retained at least one private eye, who made bizarre calls to Forbes staffers. They also threatened to sue, but didn’t.

Five years later, in 1991—Bass at the time was running a community-based social justice coalition in Los Angeles—I wrote a cover story in Time magazine titled “The Thriving Cult of Greed and Power... Ruined lives. Lost fortunes, Federal crimes. Scientology poses as a religion but really is a ruthless global scam — and aiming for the mainstream.” [It was published in the May 6th editions, but is misdated on Time’s website as June 24th.

The story was based on court documents and more than 150 interviews conducted over seven months. [Church officials, however, had refused requests for interviews.] It included numerous “first-hand accounts” from victims—former staff members, insiders, and others. Here’s one excerpt, for example:

Boston attorney Michael Flynn, who helped Scientology victims from 1979 to 1987, personally endured 14 frivolous lawsuits, all of them dismissed. Another lawyer, Joseph Yanny, believes the church "has so subverted justice and the judicial system that it should be barred from seeking equity in any court." He should know: Yanny represented the cult until 1987, when, he says, he was asked to help church officials steal medical records to blackmail an opposing attorney (who was allegedly beaten up instead). Since Yanny quit representing the church, he has been the target of death threats, burglaries, lawsuits and other harassment.

Another first-hand account came from William Franks, a former chairman of the board of the church. He told us that a Hollywood celebrity (who served as an unofficial Scientology spokesman) feared that if he defected from the church, details of his private sexual life would be made public. “If you leave, they immediately start digging up everything," said Franks...

There is more in the article but hopefully this gives folks a clear idea of how bad Scientologists really are.

#church of scientology #Karen Bass #Los Angeles #United Talent Agency is affiliated with these vampires #benedict cumberbatch

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cayofdreams · 3 years

Text

Vengeance = Repentance

PART 1: VENGEANCE

Summary: Reader had bullied Todoroki throughout all his time in high school. Years later, after a reconnection during an after-work drinking session, she goes back to his place, naively unaware of the payback he has planned for her…

Words: 4.1k

Rating: Explicit, Smut (in part 2)

Warnings: bullying by reader in beginning, murderous thoughts by Todoroki, Dark!Todoroki, drugging

(no smut in the first part, just immense build-up)

Notes: I could not for the life of me think of an interesting Todo fic to write. Until...THIS baby popped into my mind. It was actually really challenging and fun to write what goes on in the mind of Dark!Todoroki. I hope I did it justice.

~~~

He hated you.

Sometimes the only reason he had for living was simply to see the day that you’d be six feet under a cold batch of dirt. You’d be all alone down there with no one to control. No one to manipulate. No one to blackmail or threaten.

You’d have no lackey to run around and get you sweet bread from the convenience store. No lookout to make sure any teachers came to catch the abominable acts you committed in the bathroom stall or behind the gymnasium. No rich father to make sure that whatever horrible deeds you committed that were reported were swept gracefully under a rug.

And most importantly, you wouldn’t have him. The target of all your psychological and physical abuse. The one person who constantly fulfilled your insatiably engorged sadistic ego.

“Heyyy~ Shou, can you come here for a sec?” You had called out to your bi-colored haired classmate from the threshold of the class’ door. The twitch in his shoulders in reaction to your voice made you chuckle. Todoroki slowly slid his chair back, making a scratching noise against the tiled floor, and got up. He walked up towards you with his eyes trailing the floor.

“Yes?”

“Ohh! So obedient today, aren’t we? Hehe- It was only a matter of time I suppose.” You smiled your disgustingly innocent smile at him. “I need you to check something for me. It’s important, okay?”

He stayed silent as he watched you move the hand that was behind your back out forward. You had a carton of milk in your hand, and it seemed to have already been open. He saw you put the carton to your nose and sniff harshly from where the opening was before shoving the carton into his chest. A bit of milk spilled out and dripped onto his uniform.

“This milk. It smells kinda funky. I want you to check it for me.”

“…If it smells funny then it’s probably-“

“Did I ask for your cheap opinion? Just do the favor, alright?” You frustratingly squeezed the carton in your hand which made even more milk spurt out and land on your hand as well as Todoroki’s uniform again. “Ugh! Shit! Look what you made me do! From being so obstinate.”

“Sorry…” He took the carton from your hand. It was practically half full now so he wondered why you even still cared so much. But he didn’t ask. He put the carton to his nose and sniffed to try and find a rotten smell to it. “I don’t smell anything.”

“Are you stupid? Not like that, idiot. You’ll never know if its bad if you check like that.” You quickly took the milk from him and raised it in the air. “You have to check like this~” You began to slowly pour the rest of the carton’s contents onto his head, completely soaking his silky hair and ruining his uniform even more. The milk drenched into his shirt and he could feel its cool wetness trickle his skin. “Ahaha! Weeell?? Is it bad or not, Shouutoo??”

There was a loud commotion of hoots and hollers from the other classmates as they watched your tormenting of Todoroki.

“Uwaah!! Milk boy got dunked on again!!”

“Gross! He’s gonna smell so bad later…”

“Dude! Go wash up! You’re gonna make the whole class smell like milk!”

“Krrgh..” Todoroki choked up in frustration, his hands balled into a fist. The fact he couldn’t just punch you right now could drive him to a point of enraged insanity.

The fact he had to let you get away with this over and over again just because of your father’s notorious connections with various government and business groups. He sometimes thought about just killing you anyway and dealing with the consequences. Prison would be more manageable than continuing to live in this same physical plane as you.

He thought about how he’d do it, too. If he would try to do it inconspicuously with poison, or conspicuously with his hands wrapped around your slender little throat. The former lead to more chances of him getting away with it. He could have the pleasure of your death along with his freedom. But the latter…the latter was just too enticing to pass up. Being able to hear your gargled whimpers attempting to beg for your life. Your legs that would try to kick and pry him off your weak body. Your face losing its color as your body is abruptly deprived of oxygen. And finally, his personal favorite, your bloodshot eyes that would be pleading for him to give you mercy before finally greying out.

Yes…the latter would have to do. Time in prison would be a beautiful cost to pay to see you perish under his fingers. The world would thank him later, for getting rid of their waste. Your death would serve as your repentance

But he was weak. Scared. He couldn’t find the conviction he needed to actually go through with it. It made him feel even worse. Maybe you were never wrong, and he was truly as spineless as you treated him.

But he’d get stronger. He had to. He needed to. He craved to.

-------------------------9 YEARS LATER-------------------------

“Good job on closing the deal, Todo!”

Todoroki had felt a harsh pat on his back before a heavy arm was slung over his shoulder by his spikey red haired coworker as he was grabbing his blazer off the chair.

“It was nothing, Kirishima.” He replied coolly but not without a small twinge of a smile.

“Ha! ‘It was nothing’ he says!” The energetic man turned his head around to face everyone else in the office. “Hey! Everyone! Pay attention to this guy right here! You might become the most successful businessman this country has to offer!”

The office chuckled and gave soft cheers for Todoroki, some of them poking fun at Kirishima’s exuberant display of comradery.

“Todo! Kiri! You guys are coming out for drinks, right!” Another one of Todoroki’s energetic co-workers, this time with bright yellow hair, briskly jogged up towards them. “I already invited the ladies!”

“Totally, dude! Where are we supposed to be going?”

“Heights Alliance! That bar has the best drinks and food a guy could ask for. Not to mention cute girls!

Todoroki softly brushed off the arm of Kirishima before putting his jacket on. “I think I’ll pass.”

“Aw! Come on dude!” This time, the yellow-haired co-worker placing his arm around Todoroki’s shoulder. “You alllways bail on us! Come with us this time! Drinks on Kiri!”

“Hey, Kaminari! Don’t decide that for yourself!” Kirishima retorted. “But yeah, man. You should come out. We miss you sometimes, dude.”

Todoroki hesitated as he contemplated his fellow workers’ requests. Honestly, he had never gone out to just...have fun. He would clog his mind with work which was probably why he was successful anyways. He didn’t even know why he was so disciplined when it came to his career. Not knowing what his goals even were. Focusing primarily on work, but for what? To just deny any moments of pleasure or belonging?

Maybe it was time for a change.

“…Alright.”

“Wooo!!! Todo is officially on board!”

The loudness of the cheers of his coworkers rang stingingly through his eardrums but he couldn’t suppress the smile that stemmed on his face.

As he had the feeling tonight would be an unforgettable night.

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

Todoroki sighed as he sipped the last of his drink and placed it softly on the counter in front of him. He sat alone as he thought about what he was even doing there. The entire evening basically constituting to watching his co-workers ramble on about various subjects that he could not get the meaning behind. After a while of heavy drinking, that he did not participate in, everyone either went bar-hopping or went home passed out in a taxi. He truly did not understand the purpose of such gatherings and he started to wonder how he’d even fit into society.

As he thought to himself, the sudden words from the bartender disrupted his thoughts.

“Oh hey, Y/N. Long time, no see.”

The abrupt sound of your name made him widen his eyes and his body unconsciously jolt in the barstool. Was it really the same Y/N? No, it couldn’t be. Surely there were a bountiful amount of people with names that were similar to yours. But he had to check for himself, so he looked up from his empty glass and-

“Haha…Shinsou. Looking as gorgeously sleepy as ever. How are you?”

The sounds of your conversation with the bartender drowned out with the rest of the bustled atmosphere as he glared upon you. Without a doubt, it was you. He could never forget that figure. That figure that towered over him menacingly even though he was taller than you. That figure that just watched from a distance as you sent your delinquent underlings to pummel him into the cold cement. That figure who would bow respectfully to teachers when they dismissed any reports of your lechery. And now that same figure was only a few feet away from him, sitting gracefully at the bar counter as you talked to the unknowing bartender.

His glare locked long enough onto your figure for you to finally meet his eyes. And before he could look away, you had called out to him.

“Eh..? To…Todoroki?” You had softly called out to him. Using his name in a way that he had never heard from you before. Using a voice that harshly contradicted the patronizing tone you barked commands at him with. “It’s really you, isn’t it?”. You were smiling at him. Smiling at him as if he were a longtime friend that you missed connections with due to one of you going abroad.

You had hopped out of the barstool and approached your old classmate, taking a new seat beside him. He looked over at the wall of drinks displayed in front him, avoiding your gazing. “Wow…you’re all grown up now, huh?” You looked over to the bartender raising your hand at him. “Shinsou~ A refill on whatever he had, okay? Make it two actually.” The bartender simply nodded at you before mixing up various alcohol and flavors behind the counter.

“I..I don’t want to drink.” Todoroki shivered at his own statement as he was reminded of the times you’d scream at him for not doing something you’d ask.

“What? Don’t be ridiculous. It’s on me, okay? Don’t worry about it.” You had inched your head more over the counter trying to get a better look at him. “Your hair…I always thought it was dyed. But I guess its real, huh.” You reached your hand out to run your fingertips through his silky bi-colored bangs. He twitched at your touch.

What exactly were you doing? Acting so innocent with him like this. Were you just going to pretend like the three-year long trauma you subjected him to was a fable? An illusion? Or perhaps you had minimized the damage you’d done in your mind in order to preserve your own sanity as you took over a new life.

“...Y/N. What are you doing?”

You quirked your eyebrows in confusion at his question. “What do you mean? I just…I just think your hair is really pretty is all.”

Were you faking it? Was this another one of your atrocious jokes? Perhaps within the next minute you’d start cackling at him, asking him how he could be stupid enough to believe he deserved such niceties from the likes of you.

Todoroki looked down and squeezed the empty glass on the counter. “Don’t you…don’t you remember? What you did to me?”

“Todoroki…” You lowered your eyebrows in sorrow. “I-I’m sorry for what I did to you back then. I was indeed…a cruel person. I know you probably won’t accept that…but I still want to tell you. You at least deserve my apology. As cheap as it is.”

He looked over to you, surprised at your apologetic tone. He gazed into your e/c eyes. The very e/c eyes that captured the hearts of everyone around you, yet seethed supremacy and calamity toward him. He had learned to distrust anyone with eyes that resembled yours. The eyes that were now looking at him with…

Remorse. Your eyes were burdening in remorse. As soon as Todoroki saw the guilt that dwelled in your eyes he knew that this wasn’t a joke. That you weren’t pretending to feel these things. The look in your eyes unquestionably conveyed the apology you had stated earlier.

And it was that same look that would ascend an unusual beast that lurked within the visceral regions of his body. An unfamiliar thirst that stayed submerged within him, never needing to be satisfied until now. It gurgled within the depths of his gut, practically wanting to vomit out of his esophagus.

A beast that went by the name of revenge. And it would be so easy to pursue it right now with the plague of repentance beating in your heart.

Todoroki placed one of his hands on yours and squeezed tightly. Your skin was so soft, so smooth. He could never take the time to feel how delicate your skin was when the only touch of yours he knew before was the stinging slaps you’d deliver on his face. But tonight, he’d be able to feel something more, and the touch of his hands on yours only made the beast inside of him grow more and more unruly.

“I forgive you, Y/N.” He tried to state it in the softest way possible, making sure the feigning of the line wouldn’t be discovered. However, he knew you believed him by the twinkle in your eye, signifying an immense weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

“Todoroki…” A warm tear dropped from your cheek to his hand. “Thank you, Todoroki… thank you.” More tears would soon follow and drop onto his hand. He would’ve let go of you if he wasn’t so encapsulated by the feeling of your salty waters dropping onto his skin. As your tears cooled and dried up into his hand, he couldn’t have felt more enthused.

It was only then that Todoroki could take in the beauty that was your face. You looked so elegant like that, with pools of emotions trailing down your cheeks. Maybe if he’d seen this site of you in high school he’d had instantly fell in love. But such feelings didn’t reside in him anymore. They’d been evicted by the lurking beast of revenge, and that beast was craving more of this site from you.

“Two Vieux Carre cocktails” The bartender had placed the drinks on the counter in front of each of you before grabbing something under the counter. “…and a tissue”. He handed the soft fabric to you which made you giggle a bit.

“Thank you, Shinsou.”

He simply hummed a reply at you and returned to making drinks for other patrons that had walked in.

While you wiped away the allure that was your tears, Todoroki sat there, thinking of prolific strategies of how to get you under his grip. Should he just ask you to come home with him? Wouldn’t that be too straight forward? He didn’t know much about social interactions, but he knew asking a woman at a bar to come home with him had its underlying implications. And its not that he was undesired by women; he knew of the colleagues in his office that held romantic feelings for him. He just never followed through with any of them, never feeling anything close to the desires that were brought for him.

He also couldn’t help but feel subconscious about asking you to come home with him. You were the person that so incredibly ridiculed him for three years. You were still the same person who made him believe that no sane person would ever look twice at him. That he was too weak and monotonous to ever make someone feel happy.

Or were you? It seemed that whatever life change you went through caused you to redevelop your entire personality. Maybe you’d be like most the women he encountered in his life and become attracted to him? After-all, he also wasn’t the same person as he was in high school. He’d become stronger mentally and physically as well as much more confident about himself.

“Y/N, would you like to…finish drinking at my home?”

You stopped drying your tears at the suddenness of the question. “Huh?...You actually want me in your home?”

“Only if you want to.” Todoroki squeezed your hand again attempting to signal the desire to have you with him in private.

Blood rose to your nose and you looked away in embarrassment. “…Okay.”

Todoroki couldn’t stop the widening of his eyes at your acceptance. A part of him truly believed you’d call him disgusting before jumping up and delivering one of your characteristic slaps to his face. The heavens knew just how badly that needed to happen. If you’d rejected him, the beast of revenge may have gone right back to where it resided, deep in the subconscious of his mind.

But no, you’d accepted him. And with that, you’d accept your punishment. If you were truly ready to take on a new life, you would need to repent for your old one.

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

Todoroki couldn’t stop the erratic beating of his heart as the two of you walked over the threshold into his house. He was closer and closer to fulfilling the dream of having you within his grips. But he couldn’t be too impatient as this would be the part where he would need to tread carefully. As the two of you took off your shoes, he would continue to watch your every move, like a jaguar stalking its prey.

“Woww!” Your eyes wandered around Todoroki’s living room, amazed at how expansive and beautifully designed it was. “Your house is so luxurious! And polished!” You looked back at Todoroki. “It suits you.”

Todoroki was a bit taken aback by your statement. As far as he knew, you had a rich father who catered to everything your callous heart desired. He was partly the reason behind his suffering seeing as that your father made sure any unpleasantry brought against you was hushed behind a closed door. “You aren’t used to this?” He stepped over to the mini-bar area and reached up to grab a specific bottle of wine.

“Huh?” You followed behind him and leaned against the bar counter, grazing your finger over the refined marble surface.

“This…kind of house. You aren’t used to it?” He grabbed a corkscrew from the drawer and began to pry off the wine bottle’s cork. “Your father was a rich businessman was he not?”

You scoffed as you rested your elbow on the marble. “My father was in the yakuza. Rich in some aspects, but no businessman.” Your eyes fell from Todoroki to the counter. “And we never got to live in a place anywhere this grand. Especially after he was taken down by the cops…”

“I see.” It made perfect sense honestly. Your yakuza connections would explain the lackeys, the apathy of the teachers towards your lechery, the strange approval of your actions by the entire class. It must’ve been hard behind the scenes having to be the daughter of a yakuza member, but nonetheless it wouldn’t your crimes against his humanity. Todoroki poured two glasses of wine and placed one on the counter next to you.

“Should we…sit on the couch?” You looked towards to main part of the living room, eyes landing on Todoroki’s expensive sectional. “I-I mean…if you want to…”

Todoroki noticed the flustering of your face and couldn’t help but think that if the two of you had met under different pretexts he would surely have made you his wife. But marriage is not what this affair is about. This affair is about satisfying the demon that grew expansively inside of him.

He grabbed your hand and intertwined his fingers between yours as he picked up both glasses with his other hand. “I’d love to, Y/N”.

He walked the two of you over to the couch, waiting until you sat down to hand you your glass and sit closely beside you. He carefully watched as you took sips from the glass, mesmerized by the shape of lips and how you’d glossed them for your night out. They looked so soft and delicate and perfectly matched the dimensions of your face.

But your naivety obviously outmatched your beauty Todoroki thought. How could you so easily drink from the hands of someone who would so obviously want to get revenge on you? Did your newfound personality make you oblivious to the dangers of life? Maybe after wanting to permanently discard the remains of the yakuza from your brain, you decided to look at people in a new light. Maybe you wanted to just see the good in everyone and learn that most people aren’t out to destroy you. It is indeed a true thought; most people don’t want to destroy you.

But most people also don’t subject those around them to abhorrent acts of malice. And for that, your naivety would prove to be one of the worst decisions you’d made in your small existence.

“Your wine…it tastes very good.” You had swirled what left of it you had before drinking it all within a couple more gulps.

Probably the best compliment you could have said in your life. Todoroki had taken the time to make sure every speckle of power was completely dissolved into the wine. He couldn’t taste it himself or get a taste tester of course, so he would have just had to wait until your ultimate encountering to test it. And it worked.

“It was a gift from a friend abroad.” A lie. But a believable lie. “I’m glad you like it.”

You quizzingly looked at his still full glass of wine in his hand. “Why didn’t you drink any?”

“Oh...I- well I guess I am already a bit tipsy from the bar so further consumption would be ill-advised.” He smoothy stated before placing the glass on the coffee table in front of the couch.

You giggled at the statement as Todoroki internally cackled at your gullibility.

“You know, Todoroki…” Your eyes strayed to your lap. “I know this must mean nothing coming from me but…I liked you a lot in high school.” You twirled your index finger in circles on your skirt. “And I know I was mean to you but…I believe that our encounter must have been fate because, well…I still like you.”

Todoroki smiled, a cover-up for the guttural laughter that wanted to burst out of him. He let go of your hand and traced his fingers across your cheek before holding the side of your face delicately in his hand. “That…means more than you’d ever know, Y/N.”

“Shouto…”

He leaned over to give you a peck on the cheek before pressing his lips against yours. Your lips were just as soft as they looked and the gloss you wore provided a sweet vanilla taste. You sunk your hand into the red side of his hair before slipping your tongue in between his lips. Your tongue felt hot in his mouth and Todoroki grabbed your head to pull you deeper into the kiss. He tasted every part of your mouth that he could with his tongue. Your teeth, your gums, the inside of your cheeks. He made sure to leave his mark everywhere in your mouth, foreboding to the marks that would soon be left on your body.

As his kiss got deeper, yours became shallower and lazier. Eventually you pressed your hand against his chest to softly get him to back up.

“I’m sorry, Shouto…” You pressed your hand to your forehead. “It seems…I have a headache…and I’m kinda sleepy.” Your eyelids drooped heavily as sleep seemed to overcome you. “I…should go home.”

Shouto grabbed your head and leaned you down on the couch, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Ssshh…its okay Y/N. You can just sleep here for tonight. I’ll drive you back in the morning.”

“Okay…thankyou, Shouto.” You quickly drifted off to sleep at the finish of your sentence.

When Todoroki felt the heaves of your chest raise higher and lower at deeper levels, he picked you up into his arms, carrying you gently to make sure you wouldn’t wake up. Though that was a rare chance seeing as how he put a little extra power in the wine to make sure it would subdue you. He carried you down the corridor to the door that would lead to your demise. Before he walked down the stairs, he whispered into your non-listening ear.

“This encounter is indeed special, Y/N. But it will be more special to you than it will for me…because tonight will mark my vengeance. And tonight will also mark…your repentance.”

#todoroki x reader #shoto x reader #todoroki shouto #todoroki smut #shouto x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha smut #bnha smut #mha todoroki #bnha todoroki #dark todoroki #shouto todoroki #dark!todoroki

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what-the--curtains · 3 years

Text

Not a Piece of Art

Part 1/4 - A Grudge Like No Other

(Javier Peña x f!reader)

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Summary: You’re tasked with an impossible mission and an even more impossible partner to complete it with.

Authors note: I have never not once seen narcos all I know if based on other fics I’ve read so pls be kind but let me know if anything’s wildly out of character! Also I’m aware forensics wasn’t a solid discipline (especially DNA fingerprinting) but we’re gonna pretend it is. Lemme know if you’d like to be tagged (or untagged) 😊

Tw: Mentions of fake parental death, swearing, mentions of sex

Word count: 4.1k

Tagged list: @agingerindenial @diogodxlot

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The morning sun radiates down on your shoulders as you lock the door to your apartment complex behind you. Despite the early hour it was already far too hot, but at least the humidity wouldn’t kick in until the afternoon. You’d been working in Colombia for a few months now, but the heat wasn’t something you’d ever get used to. You weren’t complaining, most days you preferred it to the frigid temperatures that painted your childhood. The frost bitten noses, wool socks and thick snow falls coating tree branches seemed all but a distant memory now. You’d settled on Columbia after your long time best friend Connie convinced you to take the universities offer. She had recently made the move down south and was eager to have you there with her.

She’d told you about the job and honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if she had marched down to the university herself and dropped off your resume. She’d flown up to Brown and helped you pack up your life and then unpack it after your arrival to the terraced apartment Connie had picked out for you both to live in. It was a decent size and the balcony was south facing which gave you all day access to the sun. When you weren't working you spent your time out there soaking up the sun and watering the small garden you had been tending to since your arrival. Your days were primarily spent at the university working out the finer details of the forensics lab you were hired to set up. Your PhD in forensic anthropology has left you with various laboratory based skills, including DNA analysis, making you a coveted asset to the campus. Whilst in school you had also completed an art certificate which came in handy when facial reconstructions were needed.

After everything was in place you began running samples, processing unidentified remains by working on dental ID’s and facial reconstructions, as well as testing for drug residue. Despite being run by the University your job wasn’t as research based as you would have hoped with your work often falling under the DEA’s jurisdiction. You weren't involved in their day to day protocols. You mainly just ran the tests, or identified bodies recovered from the crime scene only conversing with them when it was absolutely necessary. Police work wasn’t in your wheelhouse, and it wasn’t a profession you supported or believed in.

Many faces passed through your workspace all demanding your utmost attention claiming their projects to be the most important. One frequent flyer through the lab was Steve Murphy, who Connie had met down in Miami a few years back. His relationship to your friend was the only reason you had bothered to make an effort with him. A friendship was established between the two of you faster than you had expected, due in part to his easy southern charm, but mainly because he and Connie evidently had feelings for eachother. You always found it easier to get along with men who weren't trying to get into your pants which was, unfortunately, a frequent occurrence in the male dominated discipline you worked in. There was only one flaw you could attribute to Steve, his work wife, the other half of the DEAs “dynamic duo”, agent Javier Peña. You’d never been formally introduced to the man, but his reputation preceded him. His was a face that also made frequent appearances in your lab but you'd never spoken more than three words to each other which was, probably for the best. You had what some might deem a confrontational personality and from what you understood Peña was, to put it nicely, an asshole.

He always came in sporting a more casual look and sunglasses which he kept on despite being indoors, a habit that drove you up the wall. He’d tap the file on the glass to get your attention always making you walk the five extra steps to get to him. You didn’t bother to look up when he passed the beige folders to you just grabbed the file from his hands and added it to the pile on your desk. He’d started attaching yellow sticky notes with “put a rush on” scrawled across them in impatient handwriting, as if his case was more important than the remains you were currently working on identifying. Not talking was a strategic move on your part, you’d heard he was quite the charmer when he needed something done, and you weren't going to let him get away with that. You ran this lab, not Javier Peña. Was your dismissal of him warranted? Maybe not, but your gut instinct was usually right and the rumour mill had painted Peña in a very specific manner. You weren't about to let yet another hot headed alpha male who took “too much male energy” to an entirely new level into your life.

Unfortunately, your knack for avoiding him became nearly impossible when you were called out to work on a crime scene. Despite your refusal to work in the field, the remains couldn’t be moved so you had to go to them. The site was just far enough away that a daily commute would have been tedious so you, along with the dynamic duo and your forensic team were booked into a nearby hotel. You weren't sure what you'd done in your past life to piss off the gods but somehow you’d ended up sandwiched between Steve and Peña. Steve wasn’t the issue, apart from the TV which you’d hear blare spanish dubbed reruns of Miami Vice between 4 and 8 PM, he was a quiet, considerate neighbour. Peña, on the other hand, was neither considerate or quiet particularly during the late hours of the night while you were trying to sleep. Sharing a wall with the agent proved to be an issue, so much so that by the third day just looking at him filled you with such intense rage that you'd given yourself lockjaw.

Every night without fail you laid awake as the exaggerated, bordering on ridiculous, moans coming from whoever he'd enticed into bed that night reverberated through your shared wall. You'd tried it all, earplugs, pillows so forcefully wrapped around your head you were essentially smothering yourself, but the sounds still permeated through the plaster and into your head. On the fourth night when you heard the talking start you knew what you had to do. You furiously wriggle free from your sheets and make your way out into the hallway. You walk one door over and inhale deeply before aggressively pounding your fist on the door.

“Hey” you say, through gritted teeth.

“Hey?” a slightly disheveled Steve murmurs eyes squirting into the hallway’s bright lights as his arms cross clumsily over his bare chest.

“Look I hate to ask but can I sleep on your couch, the walls are thin and...”

“And Peña has a thing for loud women '' he finishes for you, shoulders relaxing as he opens the door up for you “surprised you lasted this long, come in i'll grab you some pillows”

“Thanks for letting me sleep here, I think I may have killed him in the field tomorrow if I didn't get at least an hour of sleep. Also this isn’t some tactic to get you to bed so you can stop trying to cover your modesty” You say wiping your eyes, as Steve drops his arms to his side laughing.

“I know, believe me, besides i'm sure you're aware I’m only interested in one person.” So he did have a thing for Connie.

“You should go for it, I think she'd say yes” you offer, even in your sleep deprived state you were still a pretty solid wingwoman.

“You think?” His eyes light up, further cementing your belief that Steve, despite being friends with Peña, was a good guy.

“Thanks” you murmur as he hands you some pillows and a light sheet. It's not long before the AC’s quiet hum draws you into a deep sleep.

The alarm blaring out from Steve’s room pulls you from your dreaming state, groaning as you squeeze a pillow over your head. Why was it that you always felt worse after getting a good night's sleep? You briefly doze off again only waking as the smell of burnt toast convinces your brain that either a fire has started, or you were having a stroke.

“Tryna burn this place down?” you mumble, relaxing back into the couch cushions as you watch Steve scrape the burnt bits off into the garbage before buttering it and taking a bite.

“You think you got enough sleep to not kill my partner this morning?” he asks between mouthfuls.

“No, but I did get enough to realize if I killed him in the field there'd be witnesses” you remark pouring coffee into a cracked mug. “Thank you for letting me sleep here “

“Anytime, though Javi should be the one thanking me considering I basically saved his life. Lucky were leaving today or I’d have to put him into protective custody.”

“And I'll never have to hear him ever again” you say suddenly feeling a bit better. You were glad for Steve being so accommodating to your needs, especially considering he didn't really know you that well. “Well I should go get ready for the day ahead what it's supposed to be out?”

“A balmy 40” Steve offers, as he washes your cup up in the sink.

“Wow I should have packed my snow pants when I moved down here.” you dead pan, the delivery causing Steve to snort as you exit the room. As you exit, Javier opens his door kissing the woman he’d spent the night with one last time watching as she strides off down the hallway. You don’t see him, but he sees you. Specifically, he sees you leaving his partner's room, and in nothing more than an oversized t-shirt, he raised his eyebrows. Good for Steve from what he’d heard half the department had been trying to get your attention to no avail. Your head was always buried in paperwork and your ears were always donning headphones blocking out small talk, maybe he should take a page from your book. He didn’t say anything to Steve in the field, but he did watch you interact with one another. Paying specific attention to how you'd made Steve laugh while photographing the murder weapon. Javi watched as you meticulously gathered up a few finger bones that he'd overheard you saying would be used for DNA fingerprinting. He'd tried to talk to you a few times this trip, but the second he'd stepped in your direction he noticed your jaw clench and your body tense up, not wanting to upset you he decided it was best to back off. After getting what you need you packed up your things and headed back home, with no intentions of ever having to interact with Peña for more than 5 minutes ever again.

Several months later

Your lab was now contracted out full time by the DEA which meant you still got to do research but you didn’t have to teach any teenagers which was quite frankly a dream. Unfortunately, the contract meant you'd now be spending time in two male-dominated fields. The boys club offered little that would qualify as genuine friendship. Turns out the ones brave enough to approach you were only nice to you because they wanted to sleep with you. Something you’d found out after overhearing a less than true story about you from one of the guy’s you’d hooked up with. After that you’d stopped sleeping where you work and started looking elsewhere. Your few short lived romances were mainly found in dive bars only going home with people that had been thoroughly vetted (and vaguely threatened) by yourself, Connie and Steve. Who was now a relatively permanent fixture in your life after finally asking Connie out, and you really didn’t mind it. He was good to Connie and he never minded being excluded when you needed a girls' night without him. You also assumed the decrease in misogynistic talk amongst the agents was Steves doing, you made a mental note to thank him later, as you took another swig of the beer you’d been nursing for the past hour.

Steve was still inseparable from Peña and where he went Javi was sure to follow. Your inability to not become enraged by him meant you often found yourself leaving the room as soon as he showed up, subsequently cutting your Connie time in half. Devastating both you and her.

“You know he’s not really as insufferable as he acts” Connie states, Javi was due to show up any minute which meant it was just about time for you to leave.

“ You're not gonna sell me on this” you say, chewing on a stale nacho chip from food you’d ordered hours ago.

“Seriously, he's almost nice sometimes” your pointed look tells her to drop it. Connie was nothing if not resilient and you were constantly amazed by her. You don’t know how she worked as a nurse. You had a hard enough time with the dead, how she also dealt with the living as well was beyond you. She was a quantifiable saint which was probably why she saw the good in Peña.

“Remind me to never make you mad” Steve says.

“No one holds a grudge quite like her” Connie exclaims

“Awe you say the sweetest things about me” you retort after finishing the last of your beer.

“Alright well I’ve got an early morning shift so we should be heading out, tell Javi I say hi” Connie says kissing Steve before the two of you exit the bar.

“Are you really going to keep up this affront against Javi?” Connie asks, interlinking your arms together as you exit the bar.

“Yes, now please and can we stop talking about Peña even thinking about him gets me riled up”

“I thought you said you hated him” she teases causing you to roll your eyes.

“Please don't make me gag” you say pulling a face that causes you both to break into a giggle fit.

“What up her ass? Seriously, am I infectious or something?” Javi asks, slumping down across from Steve who's filling out paperwork at his desk.

“Well considering your history, probability is pretty high” Steve quips back earning him a thwack to the head with a folder you’d dropped on Peña’s desk earlier that morning.

“You know her, what's her deal, why does she hate me?”

“Everyone hates you Javi, it’s a fundamental part of your personality” Steve laughs.

Javier usually wasn’t one to concern himself with how others perceived him, but his work frequently overligned with yours and he figured his life would be made infinitely easier if he could get into your good books. Sure, at first his intrigue in getting to know you was purely physical. He knew looks aren't everything, but for what he wanted, they played a fundamental part. He wasn’t the only person to have noticed you the day you showed up, all eyes were on you as you walked through the DEA embassy for the first time. Your arrival had sparked a competitive energy amongst the men with the agents often vying over who got the honour of dropping off case files to you. A few were apparently even so lucky to have actually spent the night, at least that's what he’d overheard some agents proclaiming loudly, making him doubt their validity.

He’d cracked down on what some would call “locker room talk” when he thought you and Steve were sleeping together, after seeing you leave his room early that one morning. Though if Steve had been spending nights with you he’d never brought it up to Javi, and after he started dating Connie there never seemed a right time to ask about you, so he let it go. He’d gotten more proactive with stopping it once you’d been hired on full time. He’d upped his guard when he’d caught one trying to cop a feel of your ass the day you had been called in on your day off. You’d come in wearing a skirt shorter than what would be considered workplace appropriate gaining you more attention than usual. He noticed the guys hand drop down low, but any contact was stopped when Javi smashed the guys arm back into the wall behind him. In most cases a move like that would have earned him a swift punch to the face but a simple raise of his eyebrows was enough to get the pervert to sit back down.

Despite the scene playing out a few feet from you, you never noticed carrying on about your day as if nothing had happened, headphones on, paperwork in your arms and various scrawlings across your hand, reminders of meetings he knew you'd be late to anyways. He assumes your chronic lateness was a tactic to spend as little time around him as possible. Your hatred for him was palpable, he wondered if it was as obvious to everyone else as it was to him. He'd noticed how you would stand in meetings when the only seat available was next to him. It was starting to get to his ego. He wanted to know what he possibly could have done to be treated like the scum of the earth by you. He’d heard from Connie that you didn’t like cops, but you got on fine with Steve. Your lives continued on with minimal interaction until the day you were called into the head of the DEA’s office.

“Office now!” your boss shouts from the door. Fuck. What have you done now?

“Hey you need something?” you ask, lips parted and forehead wrinkled, feeling like a child who’d just been called to the principal's office. Your head snaps to the left when you feel eyes boring into you, eyes belonging to Peña. He shifts around in the chair to escape your violent gaze. You turn to Steve who's gazing up at the ceiling.

“I have the dental results here for the missing persons from the case last week, it’s a match, I know it's late but...”

“It's not that,” he gestures his hand to the chair beside Peña and you sit, placing the documents down on the table. Javi cranes his neck slightly, eyes darting over the various statistics strewn across the page surprised you were able to piece it all together.

“You have an art degree right?”

“I have an art certificate” you correct

“and you paint”

“A bit”

“She was featured in local galleries back in the States” Steve pipes up.

“ Good, we need you to go undercover” you snort before laughing aloud. Your amusement quickly fades when you realize no one else was laughing with you.

“Wait you're serious? You want me... to go undercover? I'm not an agent, I can’t use a gun, I don’t think I've even held one before” you say, tearing through all the excuses you could think of.

“You can shoot a bow and arrow,” Steve pipes up.

“Ya very different instrument Steve, also does Connie tell you everything about me” he shrugs his shoulders.

“You won’t need a gun anyways, you'll have a trained agent with you at all times.” Your boss reassures.

“No. No way! Im sorry but this… this is beyond the scope of my work and my skill set” you assert, not budging.

“You’ve been to crime scenes before, you’ve been in dangerous scenarios, excavated mass graves, we need you you’re the only one who can help with this”

“Why? You have multiple agents out there who would kill to go undercover, why me?” you push

“ Your background, and relative anonymity. There's been an increase in art dealing amongst the sicarios.”

“So what? Maybe they just really like art.” you offer

“Does anyone really like art” Peña pipes up

“ Yes, the whole world actually” you shoot back, successfully shutting him up.

“We think they're using convincing fakes to smuggle drugs without suspicion” Steve offered, helping to clear up the situation.

“Okay... then hire an art expert to go in and see if the paintings are real”

“We need you to test for residue on the paintings, and to recreate one in time for the next move”

“Okay im good, but I am not good enough to recreate a painting worth thousands of dollars.”

“From what I’ve seen you are,” Steve says further cementing your fate.

“What if I say no?” you ask, exhaling deeply.

“Then you're fired” Javier pipes up, once again causing your head to turn to him.

“And who, pray tell, made you judge, jury and executioner” you spit “last time I check Javier Peña wasn’t the one signing my paychecks”

“No, but I am, and you will do this” Your boss's backing of Peñas statement makes the smirk on his face even more aggravating.

“Fine, but just know I will be personally mentioning you all in my will so everyone knows exactly who got me killed, and I'm gonna want a raise, more vacation time and a new piece of lab equipment if I make it out alive. ”

“Fine” you smile feeling slightly vindicated.

“So what's my story? Who am I to have a million dollar painting in my possession?” you ask, as your boss pulls up a document on his computer.

“You’ll go by Melanie Alverez nee Smith, you were born in London England to parents Maria and Calvin who passed in a car accident four weeks after your nineteenth birthday”

“Shit” you mutter, thinking about your own parents who were very much alive.

“You dropped out of Oxford where you were undertaking a degree in chemistry and moved to New York where you began painting. You were a struggling artist for the first two years but received funding to attend Julliard. After graduation your first major piece was accepted by a local gallery and put up for auction. It sold for 10,000$. The buyer wanted to meet you after seeing your photo. He’d sent thousands of flowers to your gallery before showing up and asking you on a date.

“Must be nice” you murmur

“After a whirlwind romance you eloped and moved down to Columbia where you continue to work as an artist.”

“Alright easy enough, short live romance is a good call that can be used to explain why we don’t know certain information about each other.”

“You'll be staying here” A huge spanish style house appears on the screen. Its prestige was only overshadowed by the mansion looming over it from across the private beach. Must be the target's house, you think.

“It was built by the target, he lives there with his fourth wife. He’s rich, sources claims from drug smuggling, they think he may even have direct links to Escobar

“Like, as in Pablo?” you ask, eyes widening.

“Apparently he’s his art dealer. We need you to go in and see what he knows, if it's not enough then test the paintings in their homes”

“And if they trace?”

“You'll give them the fake implemented with a tracking device so we can target its route.”

“Okay well I'd say easy enough but the threat of being murdered isn’t lost on me. Who's my husband anyways? Obviously he’s rich but did he tragically fall down the stairs and die, did I kill him?” you ask, smiling as Steve laughs.

“What?” you say looking up

“What...” you say as Steve refuses to meet your eyes as he chokes on his laugh.

“Well you haven’t killed him yet but I give it a week.” He responds.

“Who's my husband” you ask, again suddenly afraid and very aware that there were two men in this room, and one was currently laughing at you.

“Your lucky day sweetheart.” Your head turns comically slow to face Javi, the effect only causes Steve to snicker more.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” you whisper.

“This mission is anything, but a joke.” your boss interjects “If we can trace the arts movement it brings us one step closer to catching Escobar. I don’t know why there's animosity between you two and frankly I do not care. You two must work together. If you are to succeed you have to be believable. Study up on each others aliases the target hasn’t made it this far without being killed by being stupid. We’ve tried to get to him before with no success, he will be on high alert. You two will have to convince him, and his wife, that you’re sincere.”

#javi x reader #javi x you #javi x y/n #Peña x reader #Peña x you #javier pena x reader #Javier Peña x you #narcos fanfic #agent peña x reader #agent Peña x you #not a piece of art #part 1

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nocturna-iv · 3 years

Note

003 Chad

Hi luv!

About this ask:

003 | Give me a character & I will tell you

How I feel about this character: I don't like Chad canon and what they did to him in his arc. I don't like that this character is Ella's child. But... I like what the fandom has done with Chad. I like the analysis and development that he can have. I like the potential that Chad has. Especially when it comes to learning to recognize the authoritarianism of the government and his privileged position. I like that Chad is actually smart, he has the rules memorized in his head. I like that Chad is charismatic and manipulative. I like that Chad knows that he is attractive and uses it to his advantage. I like that Chad is a romantic and strives to make the people he loves happy. Now, take all of that and make a good character. A kind and brave character. Take all that and make a son worthy of Ella. Sounds interesting right? Well, if you are interested in this I invite you to read RebelPaisley. Say that Nocturna sent you (?). But it's thanks to this author that I saw Chad's potential and started adding him to my stories. I like Chad. This Chad.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Audrey, Ben, Jay, Gil, Evie, Lonnie, Jane.

My non-romantic OTP for this character:Ben, Jane, Doug, Jay, Carlos, Uma

My unpopular opinion about this character: They didn’t know what to do with Chad. They didn't know what to do with Chad after he served for Evie's arc.

One thing I wish would happen/had happened with this character in canon: They owe me the friendship between Ben and Chad. They made Chad the joke of everyone. And they took away any redemption arc from him. Does anyone remember how in the middle D1 Chad and Jay seemed to reach a friendship? And how does Ben mess up Chad's hair in the end? What happened with that? Eh? And secondly, how do they happen to have Ella's son and the Fairy Godmother's daughter and not have them as best friends (or something more, IDK)? Chad must have been Jane’s prince. And Jane must have been Chad's fairy. Platonic or not. Can you imagine how cool it would have been if they referred to each other as "mine"? "Yeah, Chad is obsessed with being the perfect prince and sometimes he looks like a fool. But he's my fool for as long as I can remember. So don’t be rude with MY fool." or "Ben, we need to talk, I know Jane is helping you with being king but you are exhausting her. And before she is your pretty assistant she's my pretty Jane. So I booked a day at the SPA for us. I'm not asking you, I am informing you. " Can you imagine? No, enough, I'm going to get frustrated by myself.

my het ship: Audrey x Chad, Evie x Chad, Chad x Jane, Chad x Lonnie

my slash ship: Ben x Chad, Gil x Chad, Jay x Chad

my OTP: Audrey x Chad

my polyship: Sea Three + Audrey + Chad

my kink: Accidental stimulation, bitting (receiving), begging, bondage (rope bunny), breath play, chastity (cock cage), collaring, corsetry, cuckolding, cupping, degradation (degradee), discipline (receiving), dirty talking (receiving), electric play (violet wand), exhibitionism, flogging (receiving), frotting, hair pulling (receiving), impact play (receiving), little one, masochism, nipple playing, nylon fetish, orgasm denial, pet play (pet), sensation play, sensory deprivation (blindfold and gag), spanking (receiving), role play, submissive (little one, servant), tentacle fetish, tickling, underwear fetish, uniform fetish, voyeurism, wax play.

a hc fact: Chad relies too much on symbols of authority. It was very difficult for him to accept that Auradon wasn’t the perfect place that he was taught it to be. Chad is afraid of breaking the rules and being sent to the island and ending up in the situation that his mother lived through. He is afraid of small spaces.

my gender bend: mmmm good question... Maybe like this:

Big eyes, curly hair, and apparent innocence. Because she knows she's adorable and cute, so she uses it to her advantage.

#ask game #chad son of ella #chad son of chinderella #chad descendants #chad charming

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naerwenia · 3 years

Text

No Kisses on the Mouth (part 2 of 2)

Pairing: Grand Moff Tarkin/Reader

Summary: After two weeks since your last meeting, Tarkin has you under him again. Pleasure and pain mix together, as punishment feels like a kiss that never was, and pleasure ends in pain.

Warnings: NSFW 18+, smut, bdsm, dom!Tarkin, sub!reader, afab!reader, spanking with a riding crop, self-insert, PWP

A/N: I just may write third part, because I didn’t resolve the Krennic point, as I didn’t include the accidental voyeurisms I was thinking when I started this. Otherwise, yay, smut, finally! Hope you like it, even though the ending is quite sudden, I have to practice that. First part here

“Twenty!” you shouted, channeling the need to scream into one word, then biting down and grabbing the sheets tighter, face down to the bed, eyes almost closed, only slightly open to see the figure of the man behind you. His demeanor was calm, collected, and only with a hint of sadism. There was no way for him to admit it, but the reactions he got out of you were the reason he was doing this, more so than the anger and jealousy that burned inside him when he heard the rumours. There was a way to avoid hearing them, but the mention of your name made him listen and people around him were none the wiser. No matter how misplaced his affection for you was, at least in his rational opinion, it was there, gnawing inside him, and spanking you might have been the only way to come to terms with these feelings. Each snap of the crop made you scream, moan, sob, and he enjoyed those noises, seeing you in pain, and being the one making you shiver and whine under his thumb. The marks he left, the burning of your skin. He felt it. He saw the marks, and reached out to touch your bare skin, just barely gracing you with a touch, giving you a moment of relief. Your skin felt like a burning fire to him, a candle too close to a curtain, ready to burn it to ash and the whole house with it.

It was too much and Tarkin lashed out.

“Twenty one!” you screamed, a bit confused by the continuation of the punishment, but this wasn’t the first time and it was better to just bear with it. The two weeks after the last meeting had been weird, and you were sure you wouldn’t have noticed it if Tarkin hadn’t mentioned Director Krennic and his involvement. Slowly he had begun to not outright humiliate or dismiss your work, but stay quiet, sometimes giving out an approving hum. It felt like you were invisible, and that was good enough.

Slap! And you were back to reality, back to your body, in the moment where you were on your knees on a bed, counting each strike on your skin. Quickly instinct fulfilled the task at hand, making you scream “Twenty two!”, just a second before another slap came down. “Twenty three!” you answered the slap. Your eyes had closed, but not from pain anymore. It was the softness of his hand compared to the crop that felt like a kiss. This was punishment, you had to remind yourself, but it felt too good. You wanted to writhe, squirm, push yourself against him, but all you were allowed to do was moan, and moan you did. You could hear Tarkin take a step back and raise the riding crop. You cringed, ready to feel the pain, but instead of striking it down, he gently placed it’s tip on your skin, then dragged it down your right leg, then back up the inside of the thigh. For a moment he stopped with the crop almost grazing your pussy, the wetness almost touching the crop. This was the distance he wanted to keep yet couldn’t, as he tapped the lips gently with the riding crop, then moved it down your leg, spreading the wetness up and down both legs and thighs. You shuddered, waiting for the punishment to continue, moaning as the tension in the moment was like ice encasing you, and only Tarkin was able to break it, yet he was only embracing the moment, watching you afraid, wanting, tense, needy. Almost like he wanted you to try and endure the tension, he let the crop fall to the floor, then took off his jacket, slowly opening it based on the quiet sounds of rustling of fabric and buttons, and finally, the sound of his trousers buttons opening. Lust overwhelmed you as you knew this was the moment before pure pleasure mixed with pain. He had given you pain that turned to pleasure, now it was time for pleasure that could turn to pain, and you were more than ready for him, you were ready to give him pleasure however he wanted it.

And he wanted you, he had to have you all to himself. There was no way he would let someone like Krennic get near you, you were his, Tarkin’s, but sometimes you had to be reminded where you should stand. His hands grabbed your waist, tightly keeping you in your place, and with one smooth motion he pushed inside you, like a sword into a scabbard, and you took him in without any resistance. So wet and dripping, yet the excitement made you tighten around him, making Tarkin moan through his teeth. His grip tightened, fingers digging into your skin, and he pulled you closer for a rough fucking, almost like he had been deprived of the nourishment for his body for too long. But he was Tarkin, he was a servant of the Empire, and he did not need anyone to nourish his desires, it was purely… something else.

An unrestricted moan grounded him back to the moment, bliss and lust in your voice like a melody almost broke the curtain Tarkin kept up, but you had given up on keeping any type of façade of reluctance or decency. There was no room for decency as you were on your knees, ass up, in front of one of the most powerful men in the Galaxy. You had given into the pleasure, moaning and pushing yourself closer to him, wanting more of his cock inside you. You needed it, wanted it, and had to get it deeper, to feel as much as possible inside you, filling you. Like knowing what you wanted, he picked up the pace, releasing one hand to grab your hair. His cock hammered into you, harder and deeper, and he gripped your hair so tight it hurt, but that wasn’t enough, not enough pain mixed into your pleasure, so he had to yank on your hair to hear you scream in distress.

Your hands gave up, sliding forward on the bed so that your whole body met the sheets, and in a second after that, Tarkin was on top of you. His bare chest felt rough on your skin, like it was filled with scars, memories of battles won and lost, but the most distinctive feature was his breathing. Usually so calm and collected, even his breathing kept the same pace from a moment to the next, but now it was ragged, fast, shallow. No matter how odd it struck you, he didn’t give you any time to dwell on it when he grabbed your neck, hand closing your airways slowly. The fear made you tense up around him, again making him moan, but this time, aloud, and he began fucking you faster, chasing the high, ready to cum any second. You kept tensing around him, it felt so good when he roughly pushed in and out of you while your brain could hardly keep up with all the sensations, even less now that it was slowly deprived of oxygen. Fucking into you, Tarkin’s breath came irregular, fast, as he felt you tighten around him, teasing him like the slut you were. You needed discipline and he was here to give it to you, but right now, he needed you, just for a moment, to himself.

Tarkin let go of your throat as he felt himself on the edge. Unceremoniously, he came inside you with a groan and a push, only letting gasps of air past his lips that held back the moans and words he wanted to say. Rather than pant for air, he took control of his breathing again, gathering himself while laying on top of you. You were so warm and soft under him, panting, trying to catch your breath, enjoying the weight on top of you and the feel of him slowly going limp inside you. Even if you didn’t finish, the sex was fulfilling in itself, and it felt good to know you were the reason he came, that he came. There was something sweet in the moment and you savored it, a moment of calm happiness, but it couldn’t last long. Tarkin took a deep breath of your scent, memorizing the softness of your skin against his battle-hardened chest. One last touch, his fingers brushed against your hair that was messy and sweaty, and he had to push himself off of you. Tarkin began gathering his clothes, dressing himself like any other day getting up from bed. You let him, there was no way for you to stop him, yet… if this once? Maybe he would stay for a minute?

“Wil-- I mean sir, could you... stay… for a while?” you asked. A question didn’t hurt, but his answer did. Not even looking at you, he finished buttoning his jacket and walked to the door.

“There is no need for that,” he answered, opened the door, and left, leaving you naked in a small apartment, quickly coming down from the pleasure and afterglow, the flash of happiness, to find yourself utterly alone again, wishing you could feel his touch again.

#x f!reader #x reader #tarkin x reader #star wars fanfiction #bittersweet #fanfic

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whump-me-all-night-long · 3 years

Text

Charleigh’s Doll - Acquisition

So this is a new idea that I’ve been working on for a little bit, instead of any of my current WIPs. What can I say, the creative juices flow where they flow. Anyways, I can’t say how often this will update or how consistently, but I have high-ish hopes!

Tagging some people who expressed an interest (let me know if you want to be added or removed!): @cupcakes-and-pain @lave-e @killtheprotagonist

CW: lady whump, pet whump, dehumanization, referring to people as “it,” lady whumpee, lady whumper/caretaker, lines between whumper and caretaker being blurred, that’s all for this chapter I think, but please let me know if I missed anything!

---

Charleigh sighed, tapping her foot impatiently on the store floor, her eyes trailing over the items lining the shelves of the pet store. She glanced at her watch yet again before pursing her lips and nudging the girl next to her, who turned around to frown at her.

“Sorry, Charleigh!” she said lightheartedly, tossing her natural unnaturally red hair over her shoulder, sounding not very sorry at all.

Charleigh just gave a sigh before her lips turned upward into a reluctant grin. “It’s fine, Rey,” she conceded. “But if we don’t get going soon, we’re gonna miss the movie.”

Her best friend, Reyna, gave a dismissive wave of her hand, turning back to stare at the shelf in front of her. “Don’t be such a worrywart. We’ll get there in plenty of time. You’re just sad because we might miss some of the previews. And you love those.” She gave Charleigh a teasing grin over her shoulder. “Weirdo.”

Charleigh snorted a soft laugh, and was about to reply when a commotion came from the back of the store, where they kept the pets. She didn’t know what made her do it, but she left Reyna behind in the accessories section staring at the selection of toys in front of her with nothing but a wave and followed the noises.

She pulled up short at what she saw when she reached the area. She’d never been a big pet person - never seen the appeal, quite frankly, or had the time - but taking in the pets lining the back wall in their cages, the rather poor, uncomfortable conditions they were kept in, her mouth twisted into a grimace. She dragged her eyes over the scene in front of her, brows raising in surprise.

Two store employees were struggling to drag a sobbing pet towards an empty cage. The pet, young with long dark hair covering most of her face, was flailing about, bawling and whimpering. Charleigh had no doubt that the pet would be begging if not for the tight black muzzle secured fast around her face.

A few other shoppers had stopped to watch the scene, and one, a middle aged woman with a bleach blonde bob, leaned over to loudly whisper to Charleigh, “God, don’t they know how to make pets behave anymore. If my pet acted like that in public..” She trailed off with a distasteful look on her face before shaking her head and walking away. Charleigh couldn’t help but feel bad for that woman’s pet.

Slowly, the small crowd dispersed, until all but Charleigh were gone. One of the employees, a young woman about Charleigh’s age, glanced up and made an apologetic expression towards her, before soundly slapping the pet, who froze, a hand drifting up to clutch her cheek.

Charleigh winced slightly in sympathy, craning her neck to see the pet through all the hair.

“That’s it, pet!” the employee snapped, yanking the now-stunned pet up by her collar. “Behave yourself. Or do you want your removal date moved up?” The pet let out a broken cry at that but stopped struggling immediately.

The employees got her in the cage and fastened the door securely, leaving the pet curled up in a shaking ball as far back as she could get before turning around to leave. Charleigh caught the attention of the other one, a lanky teen boy, probably only working here as an after school job, and he moved over towards them.

“Can I help you with anything?” he asked, a forced smile matching his overly cheerful tone.

She gave him a small smile back, remembering her own teen years working in customer service. “Yeah, um, hi, I had a question. About that pet.”

His smile wavered for a moment before he responded. “Of course. What would you like to know?”

Her brow furrowed a bit. “What did that other employee mean, when she said ‘removal date’?” She gave an apologetic shrug. “Sorry, I don’t have a pet. I’m just here with a friend.” She hitched a thumb over towards Reyna’s general direction.

The boy gave a polite nod. “Not a problem at all. Every pet has a sale value connected to them - how much they’re worth - and based on that, a removal date is issued out. If they’re not sold by that date, then they’re removed. Pets who are considered more high demand have further out dates, whereas pets considered less desirable have dates that are closer. It also depends on their health, their temperament, what company and store they’re being sold in, and if they’ve been bought before. For example-”

Charleigh cut him off, frowning slightly. “Wait, what do you mean, they’re removed?”

He looked at her like she was crazy - or just very dumb. “When a pet reaches their removal date without being bought, they’re euthanized. After that point, they’re deemed to cost more than they’re worth. It’s all very humane, of course.”

Charleigh felt sick. She pushed out, “And, um, when is that pet’s removal date?” She gestured over to the one from before, who had quieted down and simply folded up on herself.

The man gave a small shrug. “Tomorrow, after closing. That’s when removals take place.” He added with a small laugh, “Of course, it might be removed tonight, after all the trouble it’s caused. Nothing but a problem since we got it. It is a used pet, after all. Not the first time we’ve removed ‘em before we’re supposed to. Especially with the troublemakers.” He gave her a conspiratorial wink before moving on to help another customer.

Charleigh stood there for a moment, feeling the ground sway underneath her. She thought she might be sick. Before she was fully aware of what she was doing, she had moved over to the cage where the pet had been shoved in.

Tapping softly on the glass, she tried to get the pet’s attention, but it was as if the pet had left her body, staring blank, glassy green eyes through the hair still hanging in front of the majority of her face. Seeing the thin piece of paper hanging from the cage, Charleigh grabbed it and skimmed over the information.

It listed her height, weight, hair color, eye color, all the details about her that a potential owner might like to know. Charleigh’s eyes widened at the age. 22. That was only three years younger than herself or Reyna. Swallowing down her disgust, she continued reading.

Temperament: Unruly unless strict discipline is shown.

Charleigh gave the pet a quick once-over, finding it hard to reconcile the terrified, softly whimpering girl in front of her with the one the employee and booklet painted.

Charleigh’s lips parted and she murmured softly, “Hey there. I’m not going to hurt you. Can you turn around for me, please?” The pet stiffened, before reluctantly shifting herself so that she was facing Charleigh.

She reached through the thin, widely spaced bars of the cage to place two fingers underneath the pet’s chin. Lifting the pet’s head, Charleigh couldn’t contain the gasp as she saw the pet’s face, subconsciously raising a hand to her own cheek.

The pet was extremely pretty - or, she would’ve been, if not for the jagged scar going down the left side of her face, from the top of her hairline, through the far corner of her eye and ending at the edge of her mouth. It was if someone had taken a knife to her face and yanked it down as roughly as they could. Charleigh leaned back slightly, her other hand going to cover her mouth. The pet’s big green eyes watched her warily, tracking every movement.

Her otherwise flawless pale skin spoke of a pet that had been otherwise well cared for, if a bit sun-deprived. Charleigh forced herself to look down the rest of her body and, while she couldn’t see any other visible marks, she did note that the pet seemed unhealthily thin.

“Oh my,” Charleigh whispered. “What happened to you?”

The pet seemed to pull back from that, as if expecting to get hit. Charleigh winced at her words, realizing how they probably sounded to the pet. She pulled the informational booklet towards her again and continued reading, a half-thought pushing into her head that she wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge yet.

She caught note of the words facial disfigurement and grimaced before continuing searching for what she was looking for. The price was listed at the very bottom of the sheet, in bolded print.

Charleigh sucked in a breath, at once surprised at both how expensive and relatively inexpensive the pet was. Most pets, she knew, were sold for tens - or even hundreds - of thousands of dollars. This one was only a few thousand. Only, she scoffed at herself.

The thought, the one she didn’t allow herself to think, kept poking at her, and she just stared at the pet until a hand dropped on her shoulder, snapping her out of it.

She glanced up to find Reyna standing above her. “Hey, Charleigh, I’ve got what I need. Wanna head out now?” she said, lifting a plastic bag, before glancing at the pet with raised brows. “What is that?”

Charleigh shrugged, dropping the paper and standing. “Nothing. I was just looking at something.” She hesitated before taking a step away. “Anyways, you’re right. We don’t want to miss our movie.”

Yet, as she tried to move, she found that she kept staring back at that pet, still curled up and watching her mournfully, with eyes both too old and too young. Reyna let out a big sigh. “You keep staring at that pet. You’re not seriously considering…?” She trailed off, arching a perfectly shaped brow.

Charleigh gave her a weary look. “I don’t know. She is kinda cheap. Only a couple thousand. I’ve got plenty saved up. Plus, she- her removal date is pretty close.” She gave a kind of helpless shrug, taking a tiny step back towards the cage. Then another one.

Reyna just rolled her eyes, following her back to the pet. “Fine. She is pretty cute. Except for that hideous scar. No wonder they pushed up her removal date.” Rey grinned, nudging Charleigh with her shoulder. “But for that price, it’s a steal. Plus maybe she and my Sadie girl could have pet playdates!” She laughed, and Charleigh could tell she was now thinking about her own pet at home, the one her parents had bought her as a graduation gift.

Charleigh crouched in front of the pet, reaching hand back in. “Here, girl,” she commanded softly. The pet stared at her for a moment before obediently, if a bit reluctantly, pushing her head into the hand. She scratched the pet’s scalp a bit, wondering. “Hmm, what do you think? Should I take you home?” Her hand trailed downward, brushing a finger against the large scar, before moving to cup the pet’s chin. She turned the pet’s head towards her, brushing a couple strands of the dark hair out of the way.

The pet watched her, unreadable expressions warring across her face. But she didn’t pull away, or show any signs of disobedience or defiance that Charleigh would’ve expected from her temperament description. Instead, she seemed content to sit there, drying tears on her face, and be held by Charleigh’s hand.

Charleigh glanced up at her friend, before giving a small laugh. “Look at this face. How could I say no?”

Reyna threw her hands up in mock surrender, still grinning like a fiend. “Okay, if that’s how you wanna spend your money.”

Charleigh shrugged, flagging down an employee. She pointed towards the pet. “Hi, I’d like to buy this pet.”

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saoirse-lyons · 3 years

Text

A Delicate Job

The heavy mahogany front door of the Onyx Court Jewellers storefront swung open, and Saoirse Lyons swept into the room. Above her head, an intricate chime crafted from the store’s namesake crystal emitted a soft jingle to announce her entry. A well-dressed elezen greeter welcomed her, and she gave her a small nod, smiling politely. The shop itself was relatively small, but lavishly appointed, with plush velvet carpets and three spacious counters of white marble veined with pearlescent seams. Several customers milled about the place, appraising the fine jewelry in their glass display cases, and consulting with attendants at the counters; they were enjoying the illusion that their city’s wealth was not built on the backs of the destitute, and that gang warfare was not the lifeblood of their commerce. The only thing breaking the deception was the armed guard with a scarred lip hovering in a shadowy corner near the door -- as well as the flint-eyed street toughs they’d seen milling about the surrounding street.

Saoirse paused, glancing over her shoulder as Lirene Harte pushed through the door behind her, the tall muscular woman in her street-sullied leather jacket standing out like a sore thumb in the upper crust establishment. Lir took stock of their surroundings with a dark glower that Saoirse thought might not have been entirely inspired by her request of her bodyguard to look intimidating. The memory of their whispered quarrel about the timing of their approach was still fresh on Saoirse’s mind. It had to be now, she told herself again, pushing aside the doubts Lir had raised. This is our best chance.

A large Roegadyn man in a well-tailored black gown pushed through a door from a back room and pulled a ledger from behind one of the counters. His white-streaked hair was coiffed into traditional flared tips, and she could tell even through his modest suit that he was far more muscular than one would expect from a jeweller -- even a Roegadyn. That’s our target, Saoirse realized, carefully composing her expression into a mask of critical interest as she swept toward the counter, tilting her head upward so she was looking down her nose at the much taller man. She had found that an austere appearance helped her to look older than she was, and made others more likely to take her seriously in spite of her youth and her slight build. In their rush to arrive, Saoirse had not had time to change into something more modest than her Ul’dahn street clothes, so she had simply pulled her hair into a tight bun and donned a high-collared traveling mantle. It would have to do.

The man’s eyes flicked up to Saoirse as she approached. He flipped the ledger shut and tucked it behind the counter in one smooth motion. “Good afternoon, madam,” he said, clasping his hands before him on the marble countertop. “How may I help you today?”

“Lisbet Toller,” she said, affording the man a small smile as she rested her hands on the countertop in front of her. Flexing the fingers of one black-gloved hand to catch the man’s eye, she briefly pushed aside the fabric of her ruffled sleeve on the inside of her wrist to reveal the small broach hidden under the folds of cloth -- citrine carved in the shape of a dahlia, set into a black field. “I’m here to collect an order. I believe that Mr. Templeton was seeing to it personally.”

“I see,” the man replied smoothly, his smile freezing at the sight of the broach before he shifted his gaze back to Saoirse. “I am afraid that Mr. Templeton is out dealing with a supplier at the moment, my lady. We expect that he will return within the hour, at which point I am certain he will be glad to assist you with your receipt.”

“Yes, Mr. Templeton has been a difficult man to track down of late, hasn’t he?” Saoirse mused, tilting her head to the side as she held the man’s gaze intently. “No doubt his hands are full with all the new business you’ve been pulling in. It’s truly wonderful to see the street full of fresh customers.” She watched the man shift his weight uncomfortably and knew that he had picked up her roundabout reference to the toughs they’d seen loitering in the street nearby on their way in; rival gang members, if their intelligence was good.

“I assure you, Miss Toller, that Mr. Templeton’s priority remains filling orders in an expedient fashion for our oldest and most loyal customers, such as yourself.” He tipped his head forward in a deferential bow. “Please accept my apology and assurance that upon his return, he --”

“Actually, Mr. River,” Saoirse broke in, “I see no reason why we couldn’t collect the order from you now.” She was pleased to see the Roegadyn man’s serene expression flicker slightly as she dropped his name. “You see,” she continued, lowering her voice slightly as she half-turned to gesture over her shoulder to where Lir was standing, “my partner has been eagerly anticipating this shipment for some time now, and I would be loath to disappoint her.” She leaned toward him, lowering her voice. “She can be quite rude, you know. It would be dreadful if she were to cause a scene in front of your other customers.”

Behind her Lir’s leather jacket creaked as she moved. In the polished black wall behind the Roegadyn, Saoirse could see her bodyguard folding her arms across her chest, her dark glower shifting while she made her appraisal of the man before them. A hard smile was now reflected in the glass, though it did not reach her dark eyes as she fixed them on his. With her unkempt hair and scarred, sunburnt features Lir certainly looked the type to cause a scene -- and enjoy doing it.

The Roegadyn man, Grim River, fidgeted uncomfortably, his eyes flicking between Lir and Saoirse, the few finely-dressed customers, and the guard at the door. He was making his calculations, Saoirse thought, disciplining her expression into one of relaxed confidence as she waited courteously for his reply.

“...Of course, madam,” he said at length, his tone slightly sour in spite of his polite mannerisms. Pushing away from the counter, he gestured for the door leading into the back. “If you’ll follow me, please.”

Saoirse gave the man a warm smile and strolled toward the door, Lir following with a brusque stride. The bodyguard managed to look vaguely disappointed as they passed Grim River, as if his reasonable response had deprived her of an activity she’d truly been looking forward to.

They crossed through a narrow hallway and through a double-locked door into a larger wood-paneled room. The walls were packed with workbenches over which hung jewellers’ tools, coiled metal wires, and tiny cubbies labeled with names and grades of various gemstones. In the center of the room was a wide flat oaken table. Grim River cleared a leather-wrapped bundle of silver ingots from its surface, then moved to retrieve a small lidded box from a concealed cubby in the paneled wall. Setting the box before Saoirse, he turned the lock with a small brass key and cracked it open to reveal a gleaming jumble of jewelry -- mithril rings, silver bangles, gold talismans, and electrum belt buckles all competed for her attention, and each of them carried the subtle pulse of power that indicated they were packed with materia.

Grim River took a step backward, crossing his arms as he filled the doorway, keeping an eye on both of them as he waited for Saoirse to complete her inspection. Beside her, Lirene leaned back against the edge of the table between Saoirse and Grim River, her posture casual even as she tilted her head upwards, chin jutting forward as she met Roegadyn's gaze.

Ignoring both Lir and the Roegadyn’s posturing, Saoirse set to work immediately, spreading a leather tool roll open on the table to reveal a collection of arcane resonators, lenses, and measuring devices, and a small number of crystals. Work swiftly, but appear unhurried, she reminded herself. Taking a long, slow breath through her nose, she began assembling the necessary implements. A full inspection might have taken hours, but they didn’t have time for that. Instead, she would focus her scrutiny on a single trait -- one that would confirm her employer’s suspicions.

She set out a small electrum plate with a hole for a post on one side, then selected a gold bracelet from the box and set it carefully in the center. Slipping a tuning fork from the roll, she struck it once against the edge of the table to produce a sustained tone, and slipped it carefully into the post hole of the plate. As the tone reverberated through the metal plate and the bauble upon it, she raised a lens in either hand and bent over the bracelet, peering through both lenses toward the place where the materia met the gold setting. Arcane tessellations bloomed into view through the nested lenses, kaleidoscoping amid the tonal resonance emitted by the fork. Shifting and turning her lenses this way and that, Saoirse sifted through the visual mosaic until at last she found what she had been looking for -- a foaming line of fractals interrupting the otherwise perfect pattern, encircling the join of the materia to the bracelet.

Keeping her expression neutral, Saoirse set the bracelet back in the box and repeated the process with three other pieces of jewelry, finding the same fracture in the pattern around every materia socketed into them. As she worked, she divided her attention between the jewelry and the rest of the room, casting surreptitious glances through the lens until her eyes landed on a dim sliver of arcane refraction underneath a floorboard. Sloppy work, she thought, affording herself a small smile while her back was still turned toward Grim River. Finishing her work in silence, she tucked the jewelry back into its box and snapped the lid shut.

“Mr. River,” Saoirse sighed, clasping her hands on the table in front of her. “I am certain that you do not take us for fools.” She did not turn toward him as she spoke, forcing the man to move away from the door to the opposite side of the table in order to see her face.

“I’m afraid I don’t follow,” he said, leaning on his knuckles against the table as he loomed over her.

Saoirse resumed her pleasant smile, although it did not touch her eyes this time as she continued in a cool tone. “The original materia have been removed from these pieces, and replaced with weaker substitutes. Work like that leaves a scar, Mr. River.”

A flicker of… something passed across the man’s features, but he recovered quickly with a smooth reply. “Miss Toller, we are moving these items in the state we received them. If the materia have been tampered with, it must have happened before they were turned over to us.”

“We might be inclined to believe that, if you’d not been sitting on this shipment for weeks,” Saoirse said, her smile frozen on her face as she held the man’s stare. “This scarring is days old. Days -- not weeks.” She paused, letting the weight of her words settle in the silence as she watched his expression carefully. “Do I need to fetch you an abacus, Mr. River?”

Grim River’s placid expression soured as he leaned toward her, the table groaning an objection as his weight settled heavily against it. Saoirse drew in a breath at the man’s abrupt change of demeanor and beside her Lir stood, her hand falling to Saoirse's shoulder in a protective gesture. On impulse Saoirse splayed out her fingers atop the table, signaling to Lir to stay her hand and watch how this played out. There was a pause, and then Lir withdrew her hand and stepped back again though her eyes remained fixed sharply on Grim. When he spoke at last Grim’s voice was low and agitated. “That thrice-damned liar! I warned the man away from those greenhorns. He’s going to ruin us with this farce!”

Taking in the man’s disgruntlement, Saoirse pivoted to a different tactic. “Would you have me believe that Mr. Templeton did not keep you apprised of his intentions? You -- his second?”

“I was aware of his new friends. A little extra muscle, he said. I suspected he was dipping from our shipments to pay them off, but I never thought he’d stoop to such idiocy as double-dealing against the Citrine Seal.”

“Mr. River, I don’t know whether you’re fully aware of the value of these goods,” Saoirse said, nodding toward the box, “but it would be quite a substantial sum for a little extra muscle.” She eyed Grim askance. “And if you’re truly unaware of Mr. Templeton’s plans, one wonders whether the man might be courting a new subordinate.”

“One wonders indeed,” the Roegadyn said indignantly, smacking the flat of his palm against the table, the impact causing the delicate instruments to jar at the impact. Yelping, Saoirse caught a lens before it could bounce to the floor. Grim didn’t seem to notice. “That sodden-witted buffoon seeks to supplant me, does he? The whoreson’s both a fool and a coward!”

Saoirse huffed as she began reassembling her kit. “Mr. River, normally I am not one to tell you how to manage your business, but if you are to outlive Mr. Templeton’s maneuverings, then I advise you to keep your head. Now,” she paused, slipping the delicate lenses back into their holsters, “there is the matter of the materia we are owed. The authentic ones -- not these flaccid pretenders.”

Grunting, the Roegadyn folded his arms across his chest. “I would naturally be inclined to do so, madam, but as the rogue has not informed me of his dealings, I know not where he has squirreled the cargo.”

Saoirse gestured offhandedly in the direction of the sliver of arcanima she had witnessed earlier. “Check the floorboard beneath the green chest, Mr. River,” she said, tightening the cinch on her tool roll and slipping it into her satchel. Grim eyed the chest curiously, then turned a confused look back to Saoirse. “And please do not reveal to the man how sloppy his hired arcanist is,” she continued, encouraging him toward the chest again with a nod of her head. “If the man is going to hide things from us, we’d much prefer for him to hide them poorly.”

They were leaving the shop just minutes later, after leaving instructions for the Roegadyn to lay low for a few days while the Seal cleaned up his boss’s mess. Saoirse suspected there would be a change in management, and resolved to put a good word in for Grim River. Tucking the small unassuming wooden chest that contained the real materia under her arm, she and Lir swiftly made their way back through the lobby and into the sweltering city streets beyond -- not noticing as they passed that the guard in the storefront corner had gone missing...

To be continued...

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aaluminiumas · 3 years

Text

Merry Christmas Chopper

Time flows differently at sea, especially on the Grand Line: the weather in this part of the world never followed the ordinary calendar people had outside the ocean, so a blizzard in the middle of the summer wouldn’t surprise anyone. The climate depended on the island itself, and the inhabitants stuck to their specific routine maintained throughout the years: the holidays of the Fish-Men didn’t coincide with those of the Minks thus a lucky traveler may get a chance to become acquainted with rituals and traditions of all races.

The Straw Hat Pirates had already seen a lot. That’s why Nami yearning for Christmas she last celebrated a couple of years ago, made sure that the ship steered for another Winter Island and then ordered to throw a real party. Initially, only two latched on the idea: Sanji who agreed to do anything offered by Nami, and Robin, as usual peacefully calm, whose multiple hands immediately embarked to festoon Sunny. Luffy seemed to worried about one thing only – whether they were going to have meat; Zoro followed his Captain’s suit and asked about drinks – again, following Luffy’s suit, he got punched in the head and crawled away with gloomy grumbling. As a result of the powerful blow, the swordsman deigned to hang a garland over his mat on the deck. Sanji waspishly advised not to remove it in the future in order to define the borders of the improvised botanical garden and what is the vantage point to feast the eyes upon the ugliest plant.

While Brook, Usopp and Franky were trying to part the fighters to the rippling laughter of their Captain, Chopper took advantage of the common turmoil and ran over to Nami. He had first-hand knowledge of Christmas: as resident of a Winter Island, he often celebrated the holiday. Even when other reindeer atrociously lambasted him, he kept believing in miracles and never doubted Santa and his presents. However, the presents weren’t the main concern: absolutely unspoiled, he was waiting for some other guest – the red-nosed reindeer, Rudolph, who was claimed to have been mocked himself. Since childhood he swore he would stay up till morning to see Santa and his famous sleigh; he was sure he would talk to Rudolph in the animal language asking how he managed to take the lead, to turn his flaw into an assert and to overcome the sneers. Unfortunately, Chopper kept falling asleep – and woke up with bitter frustration written upon the snout. Later in the morning he disappeared in his lab and crammed another book borrowed from shrewd Kureha who unexpectedly failed to grasp what ate him away every winter so desperately.

Nami wasn’t paying attention to the skirmish between the cook and the swordsman: she continued decorating her tangerine trees and enlaced the boughs with colored garlands even though they hadn’t yet reach the island.

“Nami,” Chopped called in a low voice awkwardly tapping his hooves against each other and snuffling, “Is… Santa coming to us?”

Puzzled by the question, the navigator nodded.

“Of course, Chopper. Santa comes to all good kids… and adults. To the bad ones too,” she narrowed her eyes, pursed her lips and slowly turned her head in the direction of the bickering friends. “But there is not enough coal for those in the whole world. It’s easier to send them to a mine.”

“Are there deer, too?” he went on, still meek and at the same time more enthusiastic. “Or is he traveling by ship? He can’t get here by his sleigh, right?..”

Nami looked at him, clearly perplexed: she wasn’t ready for such questions; practically deprived of childhood herself, she never had illusions as to Santa’s personality but the girl didn’t venture to shatter her friend’s faith in this mythological figure. To her Christmas was a day when she could finally express her gratitude and affection towards all the crew members (and to get a nice present for her outstanding navigation skills) but for Chopper it was an evening of miracles and didn’t want to wreck it all.

“Doctor-san,” Robin suddenly came to rescue with her low voice pierced with confidence, “his sleigh runs across the sky, not by the sea. Why would he need a ship if it is safer to travel above multiple dangers of the Grand Line?”

The archeologist’s words mollified the reindeer: his large woeful eyes beamed in a heartbeat. If Nami was able to fib a little, Robin would rather remain silent or elude.

“Don’t you happen to know,” Chopper hesitated for another moment rattling his hooves again, “when is he coming? I would… I would love to just have a peep… at Rudolph. I heard that he was… different from others. Just like me. But I have a blue nose…”

Even if Robin was taken aback, she didn’t reveal her astonishment in the slightest: her face remained serene and tranquil. With a small apologetic smile upon the lips, the woman shook her head and adorned his tiny antlers with a garland interwoven with a sparkling tinsel.

“Unfortunately, Doctor-san, I cannot give you a proper answer to that. The number of good kids changes from year to year, and he has to pay a visit to them all. But I am certain this time he will stay a little longer: after all, you have done so many good things that you deserve a special present.”

Encouraged by the praise, Chopper was about to start dancing: the reindeer still couldn’t get used to the fact that he was genuinely loved and cherished even though aloof and unsociable Law tended to commend him every once in a while. And if Nami expressed her emotions in quite a ribald way, Robin tried to find the right approach to everyone not resorting to punches and manipulations – even a rejection didn’t sound adamant though her voice was always firm.

“Then,” the doctor scratched his blue nose, “If you see him… can you please wake me up? I promise not to fall asleep but,” here he got embarrassed completely, “Every year I just pass out and… I would love to…”

“Of course Doctor-san,” Robin interrupted him soflty, “We’ll be on guard.”

“Don’t worry Chopper,” Nami bolstered her friend, “A mouse won’t slip by Zoro, let alone an old man with a flock of deer. We’ll take care of it!”

As soon as their inspired friend rushed to his little laboratory equipped with all the necessary things for his endless experiments, Nami crossed her arms in the chest staring at Robin with a suspicious grimace on the visage.

“I certainly love your idea,” she muttered in a low voice, “But what is that you suggest us doing? We cannot steal a deer, put a red nose on it and introduce it as Rudolph. I couldn’t even think that he’s so…”

“Flustered? Excited? This is quite obvious,” the woman adjusted a glossy purple ball on the tangerine branch so its ribbon didn’t cover the image. “He doesn’t really have someone… to share his experience with. Whether we want it or not, we… do not fully understand him.”

“So what are we supposed to do? To turn ourselves into deer?” said Nami sarcastically. “Can’t even imagine myself… this way. I’m no doe. What kind of doe… would I be?..”

“The most beautiful doe in the world, Nami-swan! You will be the most charming female deer in th–”

Robin chuckled: Sanji didn’t manage to accomplish his laudatory ode as he got maimed which nonetheless failed to cool him down.

“You’re just in time, Sanji-kun,” the woman smiled thus provoking another bout of jitter. “Do you know the legend about Rudolph the Deer?”

Soon enough the whole crew began to arrange the Christmas party for Chopper. Nami, as usual, was in charge: she succeeded to draw attention to the discussion by heavy blows and threatening stares while Robin put forward various proposals that seemed suitable. Luffy only comprehended that Chopper ‘had some wrong Christmas’ and offered to pile the deer with presents but the idea implying a thousand of meat dishes didn’t sit well with the rest of the crew. Zoro supported his Captain on the topic of presents but added on his own behalf: let the swirlybrow make a present to them all by locking himself up in the kitchen throughout the celebration. Sanji pledged to cut the swordsman in pieces and feed seagulls, deprecated. Brook proposed to compose a song – and Robin’s hands writing down more or less reasonable suggestions, started jotting something in her notebook.

“Why not write him a letter?” exclaimed Usopp out of the blue. “It won’t replace Rudolph of course but… at least we will show we care about him.”

“And then he’ll eventually understand that Marimo is a good-for-nothing sentinel who hasn’t heard the thud of the hooves,” Sanji noticed melancholically, lighting another cigarette. “What a remarkably useless plant. Shall we toss it overboard?”

“I don’t need my swords to beat the shit out of you,” hissed Zoro flaring up. “Damn you, ero-cook!..”

It didn’t take much time to put things in apple pie order and reassert the breached discipline: Nami scattered the two in different directions, and both the swordsman and the cook rubbed their heads and squabbled in hushed voices not to instigate the navigator who seemed to like Usopp’s offer.

The preparations lasted for the whole day: Robin sneaked into the farthest corner of the deck to write the letter; Sanji wearing a funny apron garnished the desserts with cotton candy. As for Zoro, he had risked to get a carver knife between the eyes and now imitated some frenzied activity – according to the cook, it was ‘frenzied enough to outshine the quickest algae drifting with the stream’. Brook, laughing, was playing a song by ear while Usopp was wrapping the presents. Nami kept things tidy: she prevented Luffy from pushing his nose into every single box he saw. Franky, though, took care of it himself: he had cut out several wooden boxes for various trinkets. Now he improved his invention and fit locks into them – exclusively by the navigator’s request so eager to keep the spirit of Christmas. Albeit none of the tasks looked hard to finish, they appeared to be time-consuming, so none of the pirated noticed when and how the warm climate gave way to pleasant frost and slight snowfall.

Chopper went out to the deck only in the evening and started perusing snowflakes, so brittle and peculiar that they seemed to be knitted. They sank into his auburn fur and didn’t melt at all as if they morphed into a scintillating garland. Back at home they looked less fragile and yet bigger; accustomed to blizzards and cold, he learnt to ignore them and now, after all those visits to hot countries, a simply snowstorms morphed into a hibernal miracle.

He remembered the first time he saw himself in the reflection of the frozen river. He remembered his resentment for himself, that blue nose, and roared smashing whatever he could smash. He remembered how he nuzzled into white and fluffy snow hoping that the color of the nose would alter, and he, Chopper, would be just like others.

He also recollected the frosty redolence Hululuk’s fur coat exuded; he recalled Kureha’s perfume mingled with the fragrance of the wind. Her hands were always tender and smelled ice while Hululuk reminded him of the first snowflakes’ scent. It dawned upon him how much he actually could reminisce: that cheerful laughter, ridiculous stories the Doctor used to tell, and those midnight talks – they spoke about everything in the world. It was almost eternity ago when Chopper lost his best friend – and they still had so much to discuss. Hiluluk always supported him, and, probably in his own manner, taught the little reindeer to keep his head up.

“Merry Christmas,” a familiar gentle voice came; Chopper sharply turned in the direction of the sound and instantly noticed a figure he knew so well: it was a tad shorter than he remembered and moved angularly but the kind smile and warm eyes made everything clear. It was exactly the person who encouraged Chopper to become a doctor.

“Doctor Hiluluk!” the reindeer darted towards the man feeling he was barely able to squelch the tears that were about gush out from the eyes. “Doctor Hiluluk!.. How did you..? You are...”

The intruder laughed in a low tone and embraced his friend caringly.

“You’ve become so big and strong,” the doctor patted Chopper by the shoulder, “Are you happy with them?.. I’ve heard a lot about you, Chopper. I am exceedingly proud of you. You have become a talented physician. You are definitely second to none.”

The little reindeer didn’t release his friend – and almost ignored the praise. Millions of questions were swarming in his head but he didn’t hurry to ask them. Hiluluk didn’t insist on a decent conversation: he kept smiling looking at the reindeer cursing himself for the cruelty he had shown in the past. How could throw him out sugarcoating his atrocity and calling it care? Why didn’t he tell the truth letting Chopper make his own decision whether to stick around or to deal with his own life? Yes, that notorious quack felt ashamed and couldn’t disappoint his friend, but at the moment, after all those years, he finally realized that it may have been the only blunder he regretted so much. If he could turn back time, nothing of it would have happened.

“They do love you,” the guest drawled squatting before Chopper. “And protect you too. I am glad to know that you have found a family… despite everything. I am so sorry that I cannot be near.”

“But you are here!” the reindeer exclaimed blinking his watery eyes. “I’ll introduce you to my nakamas. They’ll like, I assure you! Sanji will cook the pies you are so fond of, Brook will sing for you, you’ll talk to Robin and–”

With a sad smile on the lips Hiluluk shook his head.

“Alas, it won’t do.” He sighed heavily. “You have a different life now… But,” he straightened up, “I have a little surprise for you, Chopper. I know who you are waiting for. Unfortunately, he cannot…”

Robin’s soft hand touched the glossy fur. Flummoxed, Nami noticed that Chopper finally awoke and placed a small box near the adoze reindeer: it was different from those that Franky had created. This one had incised ornaments and a carving of a certain mushroom on the lid. Still sleepy, Chopper kept staring at the present: did someone do that specifically for him?

“Open it, Doctor-san. This undoubtedly belongs to you.”

Robin’s honeyed mellow voice seemed to have pushed him, and the little hooves lifted the lid. Inside, there was a handful of pink powder – the same powder his friend had been working on, – and a letter with a stamp of a deer hoof. The whole crew gathered around: Usopp failed to wake him up, and panicked alarming the rest – even Zoro, normally apathetic and detached, scowled and rushed to rescue.

The whole ship was emblazoned and festooned. Nami had cleared the place underneath her tangerines, and now neatly wrapped presents were peacefully lying there revealing the cards written in Usopp’s and Franky’s untidy yet diligent hands. Sanji was serving cocoa with little cloud of marshmallow. Exclusively for Chopper he had created rosy petals of cotton candy. Robin, normally calm, adjusted bows, knots and decorations striving to make everything look like a picture. The evergreen lawn where the crew used to sprawl and relax, turned white: no one even tried to get rid of the glistening snow which reflected all Sunny’s embers and glimmers.

“Merry Christmas, Chopper,” Nami flashed him a broad smile.

“Merry Christmas!” shouted both Zoro and Sanji and looked daggers at each other.

“Su-u-u-u-u-u-per-r-r-r-r Christmas!” Franky struck a pose raising both his arms in the air.

“Mefwy Fuwissmas!” pronounced Luffy proudly munching on the ham he’d just stolen from the kitchen. A sound of Sanji’s powerful kick muffled another sentence he was about to utter.

“We love you, Chopper!” candidly declared Usopp.

“Yo-ho-ho-ho-ho!.. Merry Christmas, Chopper-san. Thank you for suturing our wounds! Though… yo-ho-ho… I don’t have skin to be sutured! Yo-ho-ho-ho-ho!”

The little reindeer sniveled. Probably he should let his past go – to let it get dispersed in a blur of pink petals.

#one piece #OP #merry christmas #christmas #xmas #chopper #hiluluk #dr. hiluluk #nami #luffy #zoro #sanji #robin #franky #brook #usopp #mugiwara kaizoku #mugiwarapirates #straw hat pirates

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itsuki-minamy · 4 years

Text

“R:B” CHAPTER 4 (Part 1)

TRANSLATION & RAWS: NARU-KUN

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3: Part 1 / Part 2

Hot.

The body seems to burn.

The meat is roasted in the flames. The blood boils constantly.

Everything around his emitted heat. Everyone around his has pushed the heat. Tied, hampered and contained. Tied up and condensing the heat.

The heat inside was already unbearable. His brain was boiling and he even felt like it was melting. If he doesn’t let go immediately, he will go crazy. So he put that heat in his fist and hit it. For something that pushes the heat. To tie things up. By things that incline, hinder and contain. To everything that tries to tie it.

He will do his best to repel the tangible and intangible pressure that blocks him. The pressing heat turns into scorching heat and rejects it.

Just at that moment, the heat that escaped became a pleasant sensation and burned his nerves. The wave of heat shaking his discomfort, made the freedom of the moat shine.

It was comfortable.

So…

Hit it.

Smash it.

Penetrates.

Push it in and get out.

The unexpected joy of pleasure that was not his. There were many people around him who were delighted with liberation from slavery and wanted to be destroyed. There were those who had the same goal and those who had the same irritation. He took the initiative and exercised power. The companions screamed loudly, and the sound brought a new pleasant warmth.

Power went up. Even if he is hurt or painful, he is still the power to carry on. It is a power that never gives up, even if it is confusing and terrifying.

It is the warmth of life.

And now. It's hotter than ever. It is painful. Flesh burns, blood becomes irritated, and irritation fills the brain.

It's okay.

The "power" that stabbed the fangs, shaved the desires and shook ...

He tears it all down.

Everything was burned.

Those who rejoice together were erasing everything with their hands.

It is the desert that extends. The desert he once dreamed of.

Facing the vague but emotionless sight, the blood freezes, the core freezes, it's like this, he is different...

Suoh woke up to a chewing voice that did not sing or shadow. His entire body was drenched in sweat and he was making a violent pounding as if his heart was broken.

Like a bad cold that seems to upset the stomach and a severe attack of cancer in the limbs. Inhale the warm air of the place and scratch the moment between dreams and reality.

He looks around with unmistakable fear. It makes sure there was no evidence of destruction.

What there is the usual view. Nothing changes, the room on the first floor of the bar "HOMRA".

He was tense with all his nerves and confirmed it many times.

And finally he exhales.

Immediately after the fleeting relief, a sticky and suffocating heat completely enveloped Suoh's entire body.

++++++++++

He lit the cigarette for the moment.

Suoh puts smoke in his lungs while sitting on the bed. Then exhale everything from his body.

It seems there is still heat left in cells throughout the body. The center of his head is particularly terrible. Feel a sharp dull ache in the slight mud-like heat. Damn feeling, like poison in his chest, he smokes again.

When he closed his eyes, the scene from his dream was still on. The desert of destruction. What's hard to say is that while he avoids the scene, he thinks it's okay. As he understood the tragedy, he still had the sensitivity to feel the scene in a refreshing and liberating way.

There were no ties of any kind there. There was freedom.

Freedom based on his own power.

Damn. He frowned and stood up.

Looking out the window, the scorching sunlight still lights up the world. Suoh clicked his tongue, imagining a peaceful prison.

He put the cigarette in an ashtray and left the room.

Suoh is awake on the second floor of "HOMRA". He takes a shower and walks from the hall to the stairs. Faced with that, hear a voice below.

"No doubts?"

"Yes. Fushimi also confirmed it by another route."

Izumo Kusanagi's bitter voice. It was Totsuka who answered.

"Yes. I expected it, but as soon as I faced him, he ran away."

"Whatever. It's my responsibility."

"I do not care. I will carry it out. Somehow."

"I feel sorry for the mob people."

"That is his business."

When he heard about the mafia, he knew what it was. It's the conflict from the other day. Suoh makes a sound and goes downstairs while somehow observing the content of the conversation.

At the same time as the footsteps echoed, the conversation between the two stopped. Kusanagi and Totsuka turn their faces as he goes down to the first floor.

"King. Good Morning."

"Even though it's very hot, I can't sleep until this time."

Totsuka was unconcerned and Kusanagi spoke with a dismayed smile. They were both not serious until shortly before.

It is a pleasant and habitual attitude. Suoh shrugged and took his usual seat at the counter.

"And Anna?"

"She went shopping with Kamamoto."

Take control and light the cigarette. Kusanagi kindly handed him the ashtray.

He asked for a glass of water and drank about half of it at a time. Water, a mineral that floats on ice, slides through the body. The sensation made him feel a bit rested.

He probably won't want to hear it.

These two people should be able to see that his internal pressure has recently increased. He is sincerely grateful for the consideration that they do not want to put an extra burden on him.

But,

"...So?"

Suoh asks, smoking slowly and brushing off the ashes.

"Are you sure?"

Kusanagi arched an eyebrow and Totsuka looked up, and they looked at each other. Even if he feels like it just then, he thinks they are intimidating each other.

"What did you hear?"

"I just heard it. It seems to be the case with the last mafia."

"Yes, well... Actually, that conflict seems to have started with our newcomer."

"Did he get into a fight?"

"That's what I mean... Apparently, they blackmailed the drug business."

Suoh's eyes when he heard it became sharper.

"I see, it's disgusting because they just fill their mouths."

He dares to laugh ironically.

"I'm excited about my mafia opponent."

"Idiot. Your screws just fly away."

"Eh?"

"Yes. It started to cost me because they rejected me there, it seems that it was the result of an increasing escalation."

Totsuka half faintly replied.

Suoh and his friends attacked the last time because the members of "Homura" were attacked by the mafia. Retribution for the attack. And, in order not to cause more victims to the members, the battle was opened.

However, it seems that the cause was on "Homura's" side in the first place.

Of course, when it comes to the drug business in the Shizume-cho area, it cannot be overlooked. Eventually, a collision would have been inevitable.

"Rather, I'm glad you refused. It's hard to imagine 'Homura' would be one of the traffickers."

"Homura" is a group of so-called street gangs, but they have not dealt with illegal businesses.

Exceptionally, when troubleshooting Strains, the customer may be someone who is "the source", but the requests received are carefully screened. They have a line that should not be crossed as a team.

They have the meaning of self-discipline because they are a group with enormous power, but more than that, it will not be "a hobby" of Suoh and other executives.

However, there are some who are unhappy with him in the current "Homura".

"Even if Totsuka says 'harassment', while listening to something that never happened, it seems like other newcomers also exploded and got involved. They did various things, from funny pranks to stealing products. He must have been quick to sharpen there."

Kusanagi knew that there was a skirmish between a part of "Homura" and the mafia. However, shortly after hearing from the members and embarking on arbitration, the mess turned into a conflict.

There are also conditions like the fact that the opponent was a martial arts group, and that many of the members were foreigners and didn't know much about "Homura's" real situation. But still, if the lower limb hadn't anointed the fire, it would have been a bit smarter.

Suoh waved the cigarette with a distant look as he listened to the story.

The more he listened to it, the less it seemed to go down. A ridiculous and troublesome story. However, he wondered if he could say something about those people without laughing.

For example, how far would he have gone that night if Totsuka hadn't stopped him? For his own pleasure. Or to escape the pain of burning.

Bitter things come from the back of the body.

"What guys?"

"Do you remember Yamata, who received the installation three months ago?"

"Yes."

"It's a group focused on him, and now it's a group of seven or eight people."

Kusanagi said that and scratched his head in an annoyed manner.

With an old man's expression that is a mixture of deprivation and ideology.

“Well, it is a small article. It was a journey where a little smart kid was smart and mean. However, when the other party is the mafia and the kid is a walking flame radiator, it's not easy to drink."

He said bitterly with a serious voice.

"The most troublesome thing is that those smart guys don't do it. At the bottom, it's okay if it's so unreasonable. There's a lot of air, on the contrary, next time they'll go through more and more, and even if they move on with the current situation It usually will. As expected, it's too early."

While saying that, Kusanagi prepared a glass for him and poured water.

After putting it in his mouth and taking a breath...

"I really want you to be patient."

When, he laments exaggeratedly...

"Although "Scepter 4" is getting more active, our members are increasing the extra work."

"After all, if I'm keeping an eye out for newcomers..."

“That's why I said it before. I am only responsible for you."

By convention, Totsuka was supposed to take care of the newcomers in "Homura." But it's been months since that practice stopped working. As Fushimi has said many times, there are too many newcomers rather than Totsuka's negligence.

In progress…

#k #k project #k rb #mikoto suoh #totsuka tatara #Izumo Kusanagi #homra

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