#shut up leu

[thegnomelord]

Imagine Price With a Virgin Reader

CW: NSFW Dom Bottom Price, Sub Top M!Reader, dom/sub, light humiliation, MReader

My brain continues to be weird before exams, soooo I did a thing. Calling it Gnome's Imagines. I think I kinda turned Price a bit southern :Dd Asks/reqs are always welcome.

Imagine you're in Price's office doing paperwork as punishment for backtalking a superior officer in the field. Fatigue wears down the chains on your tongue so you start bad-mouthing the SO under your breath, harsh words tumbling from your lips until Price grips your chin and tilts your head towards him. "That's enough out of you." Price shuts you up with a quick kiss to your lips, his beard tickling your skin.

He doesn't think anything about it until he pulls back and sees your wide open eyes. When you lean back to trace your lips with your fingers and mutter "Huh, so that's what that feels like" he grows even more confused. He's old enough to have some notches on his belt, so your reaction throws him for a loop.

"What? Are you a nun or som'thin' bumkin?" He teases, because frankly he can't understand how someone like you hadn't ever kissed anyone when you have all the qualities he finds desirable.

But he stands corrected when you look away with your ears burning and give some offhand comment about waiting for the right person. "I don't whore myself out." You say to hide the embarrassment of being called out like that, hoping to hide behind your words.

"Oooh bumkin," He chuckles and grips your chin again, tilting your head to keep your attention squarely on him. "Does that mean you think I'm right for you?" He asks, stroking along your jaw and loving the way you relax into his hand.

When you shrug in leu of answering it proves him correct, his heart fluttering in his chest and pants feeling too tight around his cock. "Tell you what sugar," He chuckles when you attempt to hide the way you perk up when he speaks. "How about I teach you some new tricks hmm?" Hot arousal burns in his gut and floods his system at the thought of introducing you to sex, of ruining any future partners for you, of ruining you.

A small pathetic sound makes its way out of your throat before you can catch it, but you're quick to hide it, subtly nodding your head.

"Need you to use your words there," Price orders, keeping a firm grip on your chin to keep your focus on him (as if you'd look anywhere else).

You grip his shirt, "Just kiss me already." You grumble and are immediately rewarded with his hot lips against yours. Your inexperience shows as you kiss him back sloppily, unsure how to move your lips or tilt your head so you end up bonking your foreheads, your teeth messily nipping his lip and drawing blood as you try to all but swallow the breath in his lungs.

"Oi," Price growls against your mouth as he holds your head firmly. He licks his bleeding lip, but he's the furthest from mad right now. "Just follow my lead. You're good at that." He waits until you answer with a verbal "yes", then he's mushing his lips against yours. He holds your head still, guides you how to kiss him properly, his tongue lapping at your clenched teeth until you give him access to your mouth.

Your captain tastes like tobacco and whiskey and the several cups of black coffee he'd drank and something that's just him, the taste making you feel high while his tongue licks around your mouth and urges you to do the same so he can suck on your tongue.

"How's that sweetheart?" He asks when he pulls away and keeps you from following after his lips, leaving you breathless and panting. "Eager for more?" Price teases. "Come on, use your big boy words."

It takes you a few seconds to find your voice, several more to admit what you want— him. In whatever way he'll give it.

A devious smirk tugs on Price's lips. "Bumkin, your wish is my command." Next thing you know your world is doing summersaults as he stands and hoists you on his shoulder like you're a sack of potatoes. When the sudden motion makes you yelp and struggle you're rewarded with a sharp slap on your arse, "Keep still." His hand stays on your arse to keep you steady on his shoulder while he moves quickly to his room attached to his office.

"Don't throw your back out old man." You say, hoping to disguise the embarrassment burning in your gut with snark.

"Watch it, it's your back you should be worrying about." He chuckles, gropes your arse for good measure. "This old geezer can keep up with you just fine, sugar."

Though he picked you up roughly, he sets you down on his bed like you're made of glass.

With a hand on the back of your neck he guides you into a second kiss, a pleased rumble in his throat when you adapt quickly, eagerly kissing him back just like he did you. You part just enough to take off your clothes, Price taking your wrists to place your hands on his hairy chest.

"Go on, bumkin, ain't goin' to bite you...yet." He purrs and you take it in stride, roaming your hands all over him. He rewards you for exploring his body; Gives you a quick peck when you find a new sensitive spot, scratches down your chest each time you squeeze his plush side or thigh, and leaning your head down to latch on and suck his nipples earns you a very firm grope on your cock and a pleased sigh.

Growing bold you catch his eyes and then bite down on the bud between your teeth. He jolts and yanks your head up, his own teeth bite a big bruise into your throat. "Don't push it you brat." He murmurs against your skin, trailing kisses and bites down your front until your torso is black and blue with his marks, his claim.

His nose nuzzles into your groin as he settles between your legs, thick hands squeezing your hips while he mouths at your cock with his little pink tongue lolling out to lick at your cum hole. His beard tickles your skin when he takes you into his mouth, suckling on your head and looking at you with hooded eyes.

You can't control the sounds which escape your throat, your thighs shaking and head rolling back from the sudden assault of sensations on your nerves. It feels so much better than your own fist, your balls already churning with how hot and tight his mouth is.

Then the bliss around your cock stops.

Your neck almost snaps from how quickly you turn to look at him, and he's looking up at you with a smug smirk. "That's right, keep your eyes on me." Price smiles and rewards your focus on him by taking you down his throat, hollowing his cheeks and relaxing his jaw so your cock can slide past his tonsils in one fluid move.

With your focus on him you can't hide your reactions and his lips quirk up in a smirk even when they're stretched wide around the base of your cock, enjoying the faces you make with your head full of bliss as much as he finds himself loving the weight of your shaft on his tongue and the taste of your pre dripping straight down his throat.

Gripping you by the wrist again Price moves your hand on his head, a pleased hum vibrating from his chest to your cock when you take the offering and tangle your fingers in his hair. Focusing on his breathing he lets you rock your hips and rut your cock into his face like a bull in heat, rolling your balls in his hand.

Your orgasm sneaks up on you so embarrassingly fast you don't even have the sense in mind to warn him before you're cuming down his throat. He swallows it all down with his throat bulging and keeps you balls deep in his mouth until you've grown soft. Only then does he pull off and licks the residual cum from your head so he can see you shiver with the overstimulation.

"That was fast." He mocks you with a teasing lilt in his voice, "Still want to make comments about my age?" Price asks, voice somewhere between mocking and amused.

"At least I can go again quickly." You know you're playing a dangerous game but you can't help but say it. "Bet you need to take a nap after cuming once."

His eyes narrow, pupils blown so wide they swallow the blue in his eyes. "Oh, is that so?" He grips your soft cock, tearing a hiss out of you when he begins stroking you. "Let's see about that, hmm?"

He sits on your thighs, keeps you pinned down beneath his bulk with his hard rock cock next to your rapidly hardening one as he grabs the lube. Slapping away your hands when you try to touch him he braces against your chest and quickly preps himself, almost silent groans leaving him save for when he tells you to "Fuckin' wait.".

When he's done he pours lube on your almost fully hard cock, ignoring how the cold lube makes not-quite-pain race up your spine. You watch him grip the head of your cock and line it up with his puckered hole. "Wait, shouldn't I be on top? Since, you know-"

"Oh no sugar, you're not there yet." He laughs, holding your hips firmly in place before he sinks down onto you, relishing the burn as his hole greedily swallows inch after inch of your hard flesh. "When you can last more than a few minutes I'll let you fuck me good 'n proper." He braces both hands on your chest, looming over you as every pound of muscle and fat keeps you pinned to the bed. "'Till then, be good and just sit back, be useful for some'tin' other than running your mouth."

"You're a bastard." You manage to say before the tight heat around your cock steals your ability to think.

Price can't explain how fucking powerful he feels when just a simple shift of his hips makes whimpers and moans slip past your lips; can't explain how his heart flutters when just bottoming out and clenching around you makes you shudder and groan. He lets you grip his hips and grind into him, his powerful arse and thighs clapping against your legs each time he bounces on top of you with your shaft spreading him wide.

You don't even notice your second orgasm approaching until you're cuming inside him with a small whimper, flooding his insides with your seed.

Price just laughs as he feels you soften inside him, nowhere near close to his own release. "I'll take that one as a compliment bumkin." He snorts.

But he doesn't stop.

"What's the matter, didn't forget 'bout me, did you?" He grins and rolls his hips down, his weight pinning down your wriggling body until the sweet heat and strong clenching of his hole has your cock hardening right up despite the pain of overstimulation. "You know, it's bad form to leave your partner high and dry." He tuts, like some teacher, a sadistic glint in his eyes.

The mixture of cum and lube eases the way for your cock so he can teach you how to find his prostate, making you shift your hips every time you bottom out until you can tell the difference between his prostate and his gummy walls with the tip of your cock alone. "There you go, good," He groans—first real sound of pleasure he's made all night— then raises his hips so only your head remains inside him. "Now do that again." He grins, his cock only now beginning to leak.

He pulls three more orgasms out of you by the time he's close to the edge, your poor cock so overstimulated and balls so empty you'd be begging him to stop if you still had your voice. His belly bulges from the amount of cum in his bowels, a puddle of his own seed collecting on your stomach. Finally he cums with one final bash of your cockhead against his prostate, kissing you passionately as he paints your stomach white and slumps against your body.

He pats your chest like you're a work horse, his heart beating just as quickly as your own. "You did good," He whispers with a hoarse voice, leaning down to kiss your sweaty brow. Your eyes droop with exhaustion encroaching now that he's satisfied.

Then he grinds his hips into yours, a devious smirk on his face. "Oh, bumkin, I'm not done with you."

#cod mw2 #idk what to tag this as #Gnome's Imagines #cod x reader #male reader #x reader #trinkets from the hoard #centerpieces of the hoard #captain john price #top male reader #john price x male reader #john price x reader #cod smut #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare

[outcastpack]

THIAM AS DADS :D

Why of course!! Anything for the Nate

Liam was unable to keep the smile off his face as he heard the front door shut. Their food plated up and ready to eat for when Theo was back – if he doesn’t get pulled to the side and questioned about last night and that random he had left with.

He didn’t even want to switch his own phone on after seeing Theo’s knowing his own would have a similar amount of messages just waiting for him to answer.

Turning back to the counter, Liam set about finishing the last of their breakfast that he knew he could do. Grabbing a few slices of bread and dropping them into the toaster.

His ring finger caught his attention, still missing something vital from it. He planned to get that ring back where it belonged the minute Theo was back and a certain key back where it belonged on Theo’s keychain.

Liam swung around with a frown quickly forming, hearing the front door swing open. Theo wouldn’t have been back yet, so who the hell was barging in at this time of the morning.

“So..... should I even ask why I just seen Theo leave here?” Hayden’s voice called out before the girl in question rounded the corner to come face to face with him. She leaned against the bannister of the spiral staircase with raised eyebrows.

He could tell she had already guessed why Theo was here and was now just expectantly waiting for confirmation.

“You’re not stupid Hay.” He said in leu of a proper answer.

Hayden only snorted at the remark. “Well you see, last I saw of him. He had just left with that chef guy.” Liam just stared at the other wolf's face, glaring and unimpressed with the reminder of the guy. “Y’know, that really hot one that-“

Liam’s mouth moved before he could even think. “Yeah well he ended up with me last night instead, alright.” He snapped with no real heat before groaning, realising he had fallen into Hayden’s trap so easily as the girl just looked smug.

#WIP #my writing #thiam as dads #club verse

[futureplayboibunnie]

‘Insatiable’

Dr Strange x Avenger! Fem! reader

friends (lowkey enemies bc i’m a slut for rough Stephen) with benefits dynamic babyyy

smutty slut smut with a drizzling of fluff and angst

MDNI or i’ll tear you limb from limb xxxx

You were waiting for him, like a dog with a bird sheathed between it's teeth, like a cat bringing a rat to its owner in leu of a present. You waited for Stephen, facing into the abyss that is your apartment door; ready to get the good fucking you've been desperate for all week. You were an Avenger, he was an Avenger. ..being collegues does overlap with the friends with benefits dynamic, but the problem is you weren't even friends.

Not mortal enemies either, you just harboured an unlikely distaste towards him and his arrogance and it was likewise with him towards you. However, his self-serving and his controlling nature was absolutely heaven sent and incredibly tailored to your tastes in the bedroom; so incredibly tailored to your tastes it was like he read your mind. You just wanted someone, anyone to just take the lead in the bedroom for once, you were becoming sick and borderline exhausted of you always being on top or always being the one to actually do something. Stephen challenged that stereotype. He came swooping in and knocking you off of your feet, you clocked that it was probably because of the growing heated tension between you beforehand and what made it even more absurd is that it wasn't even sexual tension at first..

——————-

You needed to get Stephen alone to scold him and berate his literal insanity after the tricks he pulled today. You were fuming, eyes twitching and all at his stupid fucking dispostion, his distrust towards you and the way he always has to hold the moral high ground as if his moral compass is so intact stung you. He almost got you killed, your tolerance was high and you firmly believed it so but today was the wrong day to fuck you over and you had to give him a piece of your mind and not let him get away scott free like the others did.

You dragged him by the scarlet cloak while the rest of the Avengers were getting ready to put this irritating cold sore of a day behind them as they stormed off to their respected rooms without a peep in the Avengers Compound. The arguments had already taken place on the field and feelings were hurt and insults were thrown around but you weren't done with Stephen. You pulled him to the confines of your room and a few attacks of your unsavoury actions were sprayed through the air, reminding you of things you already knew about yourself; slamming the door shut, you were left alone with Stephen Strange.

'What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you still whining about this?' His voice was just below a yell, eyebrows and lips creasing to form an angry frown.

'You still have yet to admit that you were wrong. Stephen, this isn't some playground where we can kiss and makeup after a petty argument you could have killed me and you're not showing an ounce of remorse for what you've done to me.' Your wild look met his, crossing your arms and slowly closing the gap between you so you could like him directly in the eye. Hoping to find a glimpse of humanity or guilt.

‘Oh yes, we're kissing and making up right now, you can't keep me here.’ He spun and headed for the door but there you were leaning on the door, desperately attempting to not let him go...you meant leave.

He stared down at you and your breathing became more shallow.

"You could have killed me.' You reminded.

'But I didn't.' He quickfired.

'Stop acting like a fucking child.’

"Stop acting like brat.’ He said lowly, his eyes thin and glassy. You spotted a wicked gleam to the black of his pupil and it sent a unnerving shiver to your spine. You had never heard Stephen's voice reach that deep of a level, the rich baritones of his cadence becoming excessively clear.

All you could do is blink up at him dumbly.

You stilled and he noticed, of course he noticed.

In a frezy of unfiltered fury and growing irritation at such an absurd reaction to something so stupid, you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him hard. He let out a dry gasp at such a ballsy response.

‘Fuck you.' You shouted.

You strained against him, seeking to shove past him but his large hands grabbed at your arms, pushing you back to the door and framing you against it.

'Let go of me Stephen! Let me the fuck go!' You panted and screamed at him, waving and shaking at your hands making every effort against him to stop your struggle. Eyebrows knitting together in vain as he ultimately had the last laugh, powering over you whilst pinning your hands against the door.

Your heart dropped into your lungs, letting a defeated gasp escape from your throat in the process. You were embarrassed at how your body was reacting to such a situation. You hated that you felt aroused at this inviting and delicious power play between the man that you felt a bubbling loathing for. The problem was is that this was the kind of dynamic you were craving...in bed, and here he was giving you a little taste of such a thing.

Stephen's mind was turning into static due to having you in such a compromising position, you and him didn't get along at the best of times and this was switch up from the norm. His oceanic eyes scanned your face through darting from feature to feature. He knew you were pretty. Scratch that it was something that everyone reminded him of, every man you interacted and toyed with wanted you stubborness and all. Stephen's eyes lingered at your lips a lot longer than what was socially acceptable, your lips parted and let out a prolonged breath that had been held hospice in your lungs for a while. His grip tightened against your wrists and you stifled a moan.

Your face whipped to the side as well as leaning your head on the door startled by the intense eye contact Stephen was bestowing on you. You had to admit his eyes were glowing with a glorious vigour. The bluest of blue.

The skin of your neck was exposed for him and he had to stuff down the urge to kiss and bite at it. He was mad at himself for wanting to do that, especially with someone as bitter as you.

He'd get you sweet for him, in time.

He shook the thought out of his head as quickly as it came.

Without thinking, he leaned in to the base of your neck and his hot breath encompassed the skin there, tickling the tips of your eyes during.

'You should be grateful I had such initiative to save your life.' He muttered.

Stephen became increasingly irate as he knew you weren't listening to him, you had your ears cut off at everything he said on purpose. His left hand unpinned yours and came up to pinch at your cheeks to force you to stare at him in the eye and your eyes widened, noticing that his hand was cradling your face upwards in such a rough fashion, something that you'd seen only in erotic films. You'd never experienced it in real time.

‘Look at me.' He gritted raggedly. You let out an exasperated huff through your nose as a response but you were quite literally melting into him.

'Go ahead Stephen. Shut me up, go on. I dare you.' Your eyes casting down to his lips, hoping he would get such an obvious hint. You were sure your brain wasn't in your head at this moment in time.

He was willing to take such a desirable challenge.

His lips collapsed into yours at such a fast rate, your mind was just reeling already. Lips against lips friction shooting through you both deliciously. Stephen could feel your heartbeat twitching in your lips and it aroused him more than it should have, you opened your mouth begging to just slip his tongue to explore the depths of your throat. His lithe muscle licked at you and you moaned out such a sweet noise for him and he felt his cock harden already.

He pulled you off of the door by grabbing you by the waist and dragged you to your bed, lips still connected as if he would lose his mind if he let go. He sent the Cloak of Levitation to hang itself on the otherside of the room as he quite literally threw you on the bed with no care to where you were placed. You let out such a cute little gasp at his exertion.

You couldn't wait for him to give you what you were begging for.

——————————

And here you were, waiting once again for him wearing a black lacy lingerie set, in a desperate attempt to impress him for another night of lust filled passion even though most times you'd just wait for him naked.

Ever since that first night, you had promised it was just a way for you both to relieve the pent up anger and sexual aggression and that it was strictly between friends, no relationship. Overly cautious to not be found out by the others on the team, instead of sharing these nights in your own room at the Avengers Compound you shared them in your apartment instead. You felt like a teenage girl the way you were tying to impress him, you were becoming more and more needy for him these days and he hadn't been able to give you what you had been craving for a week considering he was busy with the Sanctum Sanctorum and other sorcerer obligations. Darkness encased most of your apartment, only a few ambient lamps lighting a few corners up.

A week you had been missing him, a week you haven't had him.

You detested the way he was beginning to mean this much to you, it was strictly just sexual pleasure but half of you needed more, wanted more.

You found yourself daydreaming at a nonexistant relationship with Stephen, souls intertwining fully and twin flames being lit. You felt pathetic, truly pathetic.

Lost in your idle overthinking, Stephen knocked at your door but you hestiated even though most time you'd open the door so eagerly. Finally having the guts to open the door, you smirked at the idea he could easily portal here but he took the long way as just a means of politeness even though he shows you the opposite of politness in bed.

The door creeked and showed the absolutely perfect picture of Stephen, he looked more gruff than usual, he looked even more attractive and you often thought that it was impossible. He let out a gutteral groan at the sight of you, so sweet, so willing and waiting for him.

‘I need you.’

He spared no time in kicking the door shut and wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your neck. You let free a stifled moan, a little adament but within a split second falling deep within him. Your lips met together in a spitfire, tongues tangled already.

He slung his cloak off before hoisting you up and walking you to the bed he got so familiar with alongside your body; memorising every curve, every spot that makes you see shattered starlight and it was beautiful. He was currently angry with himself; for the prolonged amount of time he's spent with you giving you whatever you wanted and you giving him whatever he wanted in return, every position, every kind of dirty talk you both wanted, but you didn't give him what he needed.

Stephen needed to immerse himself in you fully...he needed you to be the most interesting thing about him, he needed you to give him the privilege of being the woman he could hold like water in his hands so softly and tenderly. He needed you to be his: passion, sex, triumphs, downfalls and everything in between.

He threw you on the bed, desperation radiating off of him to be inside of you. He untied his robes, kicked off his boots until he was only left in his pants and he peeked up at you to find you spreading your legs slowly ready to welcome him back home. He nestled between your legs and gripped at your thighs wildly, nails digging into the soft supple flesh. You ruffled up his hair with your fingers and tugged at his scalp; he had to stare at you for a moment before he cemented his lips on yours. You were so effortlessly gorgeous, it's like being enchanting was second nature for you.

'I've had a bad day today, in fact I've had a bad week without you.’ He breathed, staring down at you.

'Take it out on me Stephen, I can take it. Please, I've just missed you.’ You leaned in and kissed at his neck.

'All I could think about this week was being in you.' He groaned as he flitted his eyes shut at your actions: The admission perked you up and it made you beam slightly.

With no time to lose, your lips crashed into his and it was like he was teleported to the high heavens; your lips were coated in a sickly sweet cherry gloss and it spurred him on further. He had to get you naked. In a temper, he placed his hands on the bustier of your lingerie and ripped it off with ease. You let out a sudden whine at the cool air that hit your nipples and he gawked at the way they peaked for him as always. He always remarked at your tits, he thought they looked perfect in your suit.

Stephen palmed at them and flicked your nipples, arousal shot through like wildfire zipping through your core. You were becoming more and more wet but you were always wet for stephen. He kissed your stomach and your libido before tearing off your panties with his teeth. You couldn't control the high pitched pornographic moan that came out of your mouth, Stephen was staring at your glistening pussy and he felt like a kid at Christmas; you always gave him so much of yourself. He was about to eat you out but you stopped him before he could do anything.

‘No, Stephen. Come here, put your cock in me and fuck me crazy, you need this more.’ You whispered breathily, he raised his eyebrow. Again, you’re always giving yourself. He crawled his way back up to you.

"You look like heaven.' He half smilled through hooded lids, observing your hair flowing out on the pillows so delicately, the angles of your face dimly lit by the muted atmospheric light. You blushed bashfully at the comment as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

He kicked his pants and boxers off and positioned his cock to fit inside you so perfectly as always. Your eyebrows knitted in pleasure alongside your gaping mouth as he pushed himself inside of you, placing both hands on the curve of your hips. Pistoning his cock in and out of you, he caught a glance of your face contorting in desperation moaning and panting breathlessly as did he. It was all just indescribable, your pussy was made for him. You were made for him, your bodies fit together so perfectly like a jigsaw puzzle. You kept calling his name and it made him growl in your ear like an animal.

You felt him twitch inside of you indicating that he was about to cum inside of you and the final fleeting touch at your tits did it in for you. You sensed yourself cracking as a white hot wash of euphoria whizzed through you as you came on his cock and in turn it electrified Stephen you both felt intertwined and you felt your tongue form the words you'd regret later.

‘I love you.' You whispered against his lips and he stilled, completely taken aback.

The confession made him lose his mind, he released himself inside of you and groaned into your neck to bite at it. You thought you completely lost him and you'll never see each other the same ever again. He rolled and planted himself beside you and you daren't move an inch, completely and utterly humilated.

'I'm sorry." You panted, unable and far too embarrassed to look him in the eye.

'For what?' He taunted and you weren't sure if you were about to cry or laugh.

"Fuck you!' You got up from the bed and attempted to pad away into the bathroom. Stephen knew he fucked up due to his dumbass response, he shot up and leaned from the bed as his legs dangled from the side.

He caught onto your wrist before you could slip away into the abyss and pulled you back into him. You gasped at him, your only view being Stephen blinking up at you with those beguiling eyes of his. He looked defeated and you knew what he was going to say was going to upset you further. He encompassed his arms down the expanse of the small of your back and your ass, squeezing at it before ultimately slapping at it. It was so unexpected and made your mind melt. You placed your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself.

"You're insatiable. Every time we're spending these nights together, you take and take from me and I leave with a little bit of me staying here forever. But I don't want those little bits staying here, I want all of me here. With you.'’ He admitted with those pretty words of his, your eyes widened and contorted in confusion, unable to comprehend the words that were spelt out in front of you.

'You're kidding right?' You let out a dry laugh, it was all that you could say.

"You're an idiot. You couldn't see what was right in front of you, how much I crave you and how much I just needed to feel you, not just your body but in every other way. It's like you've possessed me and I'm a man of biology and logisitics but what you cast upon me is none of that. It was like you were sent for me by God himself.’ His fingers traced at the back of your thighs and you honestly thought you were dreaming until he planted a kiss on your lower stomach which snapped you right back into reality.

'After that first night it felt like I've always loved you." You admitted, following it with a nervous gulp as it felt like your heart was literally beating inside of your throat.

He pushed him down back on the bed and straddled him, your hair falling down and grazing his face. You kissed Stephen softly this time, a prolonged light peck as if it were between two kids who didn't know what a kiss was.

‘How we've got away with this insanity without the others knowing is beyond me.’ You smiled into his lips and he couldn’t help but laugh at such comedic timing.

——

BRUH ALL I WRITE IS PORN but it’s ethical porn yk what i’m saying

#dr stephen strange #dr strange fluff #dr strange angst #dr strange x fem!reader #stephen strange smut #dr strange x y/n #stephen strange #dr strange smut

[mannazandwyrd]

The Old Norse skalds treated dad-puns as high art.

No, seriously. Look at this incomplete list of possible etymologies for Old Norse ‘Loki’:

(PIE = reconstructed proto-Indo-European, PG = reconstructed proto-Germanic)

1. PIE *lok-, descendant forms include PG *lahaną, Old Norse lá; p. láðí, AngloSaxon leán

to blame, to accuse

Sayers’ main hypothesis: Loki ‘The Blamer’, an echo of the archaic PIE “poet of praise and blame”

2. PIE *lewg- (updated from *leug-)

to break

Past scholarship summarized by Bonnetain (quoted by Sayers), including by Pokorny. Loki ‘The Destroyer’

3. PIE *leu-, descendant forms include Norwegian lokk

to sound, to sing, to declaim

Pokorny and Kobler’s suggested root for Lóðurr, if like Hveðrungr it translates as “roarer” (mentioned by Sayers, but Wikipedia lists the etymologies of Lóðurr as Old Norse lóð "fruit, land", ljóðar "people", or laða "to attract"). (See Dronke or Þorgeirsson for evidence Loki and Lodurr are the same entity.). Lokk (in both forms of modern Norwegian) is, among other meanings, a special type of song used to call the animals home from their pastures; a herding call song. This ties in nicely with Loki-as-herder, mentioned by Heide: ganga sem [Loki]/[lok] yfir afra (Old Norse), ‘to walk like Loki over the fields’, driving [fleeing men]/[sheep].

4. Old Norse loca, possibly cognate with Old English loca (‘locked enclosure’), from PG *lukô, related to *lūkaną (“to shut”).

unenclosed piece of ground, cave

Past scholarship summarized by Bonnetain (quoted by Sayers). Loki bound in the cave.

5. Logi (and likely not Loki, according to current scholarship), from Old Norse loga

Fire, flame, to blaze, to burn

Past scholarship, originating with Grimm, summarized by Bonnetain (quoted by Sayers). Loki as fire itself.

6. Loptr, from Old Norse lopt, PG *luftuz. (PIE root uncertain)

Air, atmosphere, sky

Used to refer to Loki in both Prose & Poetic Eddas. Past scholarship summarized by Bonnetain (quoted by Sayers). Loki as the invisible man, a breeze, or wearing a Freya’s falcon-shape cloak.

7. PIE *lewk- probably via Pre-Germanic *lowkís and PG *laugiz (flame, blaze)

light, brightness, shining, to see

Past scholarship from multiple angles. *lewk- is probably the PIE root for: the names of Celtic Lugos, Lugh & Llew; Scandinavian Lucia/Lussi; Roman Lucifer (light-bringer, in devotee UPG Loki’s “brother from another mother”; Sophus Bugge’s theory that Loki derives *from* Lucifer has been discarded by current scholarship); Pre-Germanic *lowkís and PG *laugiz (flame, blaze); and words meaning ‘a clearing’ or ‘sacred grove’ in Latinate, Celtic, and Germanic languages including Old Norse ló (clearing, meadow, as in Oslo). Lokke lejemand (Zealand, Denmark) = ‘a reflected spot of light’ (Heide) may be evidence in favour. Loki appears to have been associated with the star Sirius (Lokabrenna), with fire or hearths (Heide), and his mother may have been an Earth goddess associated with a sacred birch grove.

8. PG lugô, from PIE *lewgʰ- (“to lie, tell a lie”)

to lie, deceive

Walde (1927-32) and Carnoy (1955) in a comparison with Odysseus, eviscerated by Liberman (1996). Loki as untrustworthy trickster.

9. Old Norse lúka (with dative lokit, past participle lokinn)... derives from PG *lūkaną (“to turn or bend”) or PG *luką (a lock or key-hole or knot-hole), both from PIE *lewg- (“to bend; turn”).

to shut, close, end, finish, conclude, settle (with a sense of negotiation and agreement)

Jacob Grimm first proposed; Liberman (1992, reprinted 1994, summarized by him 1996) uses Utgarda-Loki and lúka ‘close, lock up, bolt’ to say Loki meant ‘enclosure’ and he was a chthonic deity. Past scholarship (summarized by Bonnetain) is quoted by Sayers, then explored at length; he thinks these connotations of Loki ‘the Closer’, ‘Fixer’ or ‘Negotiator’ were added to later. Lokki (Faroe Islands), Lokke (Denmark; Hamar, Norway; and Sweden), Lokkemand (Jutland, Denmark), Loke, Luki, and Luku(r) (Telemark, Norway; Dalarna, Sweden; Swedish Finland) are linguistically related to Germanic *luk-, and Heide suggests these show Loki as ‘the Tangler’.

10. English luck, West Frisian lok, from Middle Low German (ge)lucke, from PG *galukją, from PG *lūkaną (“to close”), from PIE *lewg- (“to bend; turn”).

‘luck, fortune’

See previous table entry. Loki as lucky.

11. Old Norse laukr, from Proto-Norse ᛚᚨᚢᚲᚨᛉ (laukaz), from PG *laukaz.

Leek, onion

The above-ground parts of the leek appears to have represented rapid growth and fertility - see the alu-laukaz runic inscriptions - and was likely also used as slang for an erect penis. Loki as (chthonic?) fertility deity.

Presumably Loki began his career as only one of these, then started collecting. Which came first is a matter of open debate, and some of this list is a Real Stretch (tm). However, what all these options tell me is that the Old Norse skalds and their predecessors loved a good pun and gradually incorporated many sound-alike words into the stories of the gods. Like Loki flying through a key-hole to steal Freyja’s necklace for Odin. Or Loki hanging from Thor’s belt like a leaden plumb-bob measuring the water’s depth as Thor fords the river. I have a feeling Loki would delight in all that wordplay.

Citations:

Heide, Eldar. Loki, the Vatte, and the Ash Lad: A Study Combining Old Scandinavian and Late Material. Viking and Medieval Scandinavia 7 (2011): pp. 63–106.

Liberman, Anatoly. Ten Scandinavian and North English Etymologies. alvíssmál 6 (1996): pp. 63–98. (Note: his etymological analysis of ON Loki was first published 1992, reprinted 1994, summarized by him 1996, and is likely also in his 2016 book.)

Sayers, William. Norse ‘Loki’ As Praxonym. Journal of Literary Onomastics 5 (2016): pp. 17-28. (Heavily cites Yvonne S. Bonnetain’s German-language thesis dissertation.)

Wiktionary, primarily in turn citing Guus Kroonen’s Etymological Dictionary Of Proto Germanic.

(Apologies, friends, my pretty table with all the cited etymologies linked and non-English words italicized didn’t survive copy-pasting into Tumblr.)(30 Aug ‘22 update: added links and fixed the date typo on Liberman’s book, additional information added to 2 and 4)

#lokean #seven days of lokabrenna #etymology #norse polytheism #inclusive heathenry #post 2 of 7 #long post

[thestralsofspinnersend]

Of Changing Tides

London rumbled on beyond the poorly insulated flat window. Ceaseless tires tread through the gathering pools that eddied along the curb in the soft rain. Warmth, familiar in shape and the way it folded so safely around Harry, rolled away. The shared duvet lifted, allowing a rush of cool air to fill the newly vacant space between the two bodies. Errant strands of fiery hair irritated Harry’s nose in a routine way, and he wondered, as he did every time it happened, how Ginny’s hair managed to snake its way into the very fibres of their bedding. Sighing, he gave up on the flimsy hope of sleep, mind endless in its hopeless meandering.

Unthinkingly, his hand found its way to the nape of Ginny’s neck, a gentle reflex. She hummed and he could hear the smile that formed around the sound her throat made as his fingers gently rubbed the soft, vulnerable skin beneath her hair line.

He had loved her since he was so young. Still loved her, he corrected internally. Watching that love blossom and transform, change shape and rebuild itself into something new and carefully held, softened the hard edges of his mind.

As the quiet rise and fall of Ginny’s chest filled the darkness of the room and rhythmic push and pull of his fingers in her hair soothed his late night agitation he let his mind wander to the things kept neatly stacked in dark corners of his mind.

She had asked him, weeks prior, in the quiet of their room, feet tangled and fingers intertwined, “Are you sure you’re not gay?”

There had been no malediction or venom in the question, no accusation or even sadness. It was one of genuine curiosity, openness, and Harry could feel her kind eyes through the dark, her thumb rubbing gently over his knuckles.

Harry’s knee-jerk defensive, “no,” died in his throat and he had lain there, frozen, brain stuck, time suspended as he felt the rise and fall of Ginny’s chest next to his own.

Sure, he had known he liked men since a young age, and sure, he had always said if things didn’t work out with Ginny, he would date a man rather, but things were working out with Ginny, they always had.

“Are you unhappy?” Harry asked, in leu of answering her. Ginny took a moment to answer, hiking a leg up over his hips, and wrapping one arm around his chest. Warm. Familiar. The silence stretched on as she hummed thoughtfully, but the lull didn’t worry him. They’d always been able to hand one another their complexities and heavy silences, questions and worries without fear. It was one of the things that Harry loved about her so much.

“No,” she said simply, shrugging. “I’m not unhappy. I’m right where I want to be.”

“Me too,” Harry replied quickly, pulling her closer in a sudden rush of nerves. Kissing the top of her head. She smelled like neroli.

“But it’s not necessarily happiness I’m talking about,” she continued, looking up at him, “I know we make one another happy.”

“And we have good sex,” Harry offered with an edge of indignation.

She rolled her eyes, “that’s not what I’m talking about—“

“And we love each other—“

“Merlin, yes, Harry,” she groused with a laugh, , “that’s not under question here, shut up for a second—”

He snickered under his breath as she pushed herself to sit next to him, taking his hand in hers.

“We could do this forever and I’d love every second of it, without regrets, but I don’t think you would. And, I don’t think you allow yourself to think about life in any other way because you’re afraid that you’ll be betraying me if you do. You’re loyal to a fault. Your ride or die settings are pathological.”

Harry could feel the objection rising in his chest, his brows creasing. Ginny, sensing it, placed one hand on his chest in a soothing, placating gesture.

“I think you need to allow yourself to think about what the most fulfilled version of your life would be, and not worry about whether or not that includes me in it, or in what capacity.”

“Are you breaking up with me?” Harry asked, almost joking but not quite. Worry began to ghost up his spine.

“No,” She laughed, leaning down with a swift press of soft smiling lips, reassuring and kind. “I’m saying, I think you could be happier. And I love you enough to want the best for you, even if that means it’s not with me. I know we’ll always be in each other’s lives, that’s not what I’m questioning. I’m questioning in what capacity.”

And that had been the end of the conversation. They spoke of other things, and Ginny ran her fingers up and down Harry’s arm in the way that made his brain go soft and his eyes heavy and eventually they fell asleep, as they always did, wrapped up in one another, the safety of their history and familiarity.

But, the sentiment that Ginny had unearth had plagued him in the coming weeks. Turning over and over again.

Am I gay?

No, right?

No. He liked women. He liked all genders, right?

… no, right?

Now In the early hours of the morning, listening to the slow and rhythmic breathing of his best friend, Harry’s internal dialogue spilled out into the quiet evening, causing Ginny to jump.

“Why do you think I’m gay?” The words Tumbled out, much louder than he had intended them to.

She groaned, having clearly been comfortably asleep. She rolled over and buried her head in his armpit.

From the depths of his nightshirt he heard sleep heavy mumbling, “it’s a vibe,” she offered, most unhelpfully.

“Excuse me?” He demanded incredulously, dislodging her from where she was trying to fall back asleep on him.

She moaned irritatedly at his jostling, “its bedtime, Harry! Can’t we talk about this tomorrow?”

“No, man, you can’t just say I have a gay vibe and leave me hanging here!”

Ginny huffed, rallying herself from the edge of sleep and pushed herself up. Rubbing her eyes hard with the heel of her hand she spoke through a protracted yawn, “I see— the way you look at him.”

Guilt enveloped Harry from some shameful depths and the brief damning thought crossed his mind, that Ginny didn’t even have to say _who_, and yet he knew exactly of whom she spoke.

“I look at you that way, too.” He protested, almost forcefully.

She smiled, in a way that looked sad and endeared. “No,” she said simply, “you don’t.”

He huffed, goose bumps peppering his skin, feeling suddenly caught in the intensity of her unwavering and probing gaze.

“And— how, exactly, do I look at him?” He asked meekly, almost afraid of the answer.

“Like— like,” she huffed, moving her hand in that peculiar circular way she did when she couldn’t find the words she needed. “Like you’d follow him off of a cliff, or like you’d abandon everything and everyone if he asked you to pack up and go with him somewhere.”

“I would not!” He protested, his face feeling a bit hotter than he thought was necessary.

He could feel the incredulity of her deadpan stare before she snorted a laugh and said, “Florida.”

“That was one time!” He shouted, face now on fire, remembering the summer after Hogwarts when Draco Malfoy, full of exuberance and challenges had asked him on a whim if he would go with him on a road trip.

“To where?” Harry had asked, the option of refusing never once crossing his mind. They had taken a portkey to New York together before renting the cheapest Citi-golf they could find and driving for 26 hours straight to Miami eating nothing but crisps and energy drinks and screaming the same three mix tapes at the top of their lungs. They pulled into Miami Beach just in time to watch the sun rise before passing out and sleeping in a parking lot for 6 hours.

“Iceland?” Ginny’s smile widened.

Harry huffed, positively indignant now, the memory of their epic and poorly planned attempts at hiking through the wilderness of Iceland in summer, pouring out from the place he kept his most precious memories. It took them 9 days to do a 3 day hike and they cackled the entire way through, deciding at every possible turn to do it the muggle way, refusing to apparate even when they were down to their last bag of peanuts. It had been the most fun Harry had ever had up to that point, in his life.

“Belgium?” Ginny continued and Harry rolled over, yelling into his pillow.

“Stop!” embarrassing memories of being so drunk they couldn’t figure out how to climb the stairs at the rickety hostel Draco had booked for them still plagued him.

“Phu Quoc—”

“Okay! Enough!” Harry yelled, lunging at Ginny and covering her mouth with his hand, “we don’t talk about that, remember?”

Ginny had tossed her head back, full belly laughter ringing out into the dark room. She knew full well Harry didn’t like being reminded of the time Draco convinced him to go snorkelling even though he was terrified of the ocean and nearly drowned in a rip tide because he didn’t know how to swim with flippers. He had emerged from the waters panting and bedraggled like a wet cat, Draco resplendent in the sun, guffawing at Harry’s ineptitudes at sea.

“My point is—“ Ginny raised her voice over Harry’s attempts to silence her, jabbing her thumb into his armpit in a way that instantly rendered him useless, “that you respond to him in a way that you do with no one else, not even me. Remember that time I begged you to come with me on a weekend away one county over, and you said no, and not two days later, Draco asks you to help pick up potions ingredients in the other hemisphere and your bags were packed before you put your phone down?”

“You wanted me to go skydiving! I’m terrified of heights!”

“You also lived on a boat with him! For four months! You hate boats!”

Harry was pouting now, feeling like a bad partner, like he’d been caught in wrong doing. “I’m sorry, I should have gone with you on that trip.”

“I’m not looking for an apology, I’m not even upset about it, you would have hated it. Luna and I had way more fun without you.”

“Gee thanks,” Harry rolled his eyes.

“My point is,” she continued, tucking one of his wild curls behind his ears, “I don’t think you’ve ever allowed yourself to think of him, or anyone else for that matter, in any way that isn’t platonic, because of me.”

“Maybe,” Harry said, picking at the corner of their duvet, his thoughts acutely aware of the hidden spaces of his mind he never allowed himself to dwell on.

“Maybe,” Ginny agreed, smiling in a smug way that made Harry roll his eyes. He looked at her, with her oversized YetiFest1997 t-shirt she had stolen from Luna, messy hair, and felt a thrill of fear at losing the stability she had offered him for so long.

“Its okay.” She reassured, squeezing his hand. “Our friendship is more important than who we are or are not having sex with. Even if our romantic relationship changes, it won’t change the fact that I love you, and that I’ll always be here for you.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled, all other words seeming to escape him.

After a long silence, Ginny asked quietly, “are you going to talk to him?”

A thrill of fear and anxiety shot through Harry’s body, the thought of facing Draco, his cool demeanour and confidence, his kindness and intensity, forcing a meek, “no” from his throat.

Ginny smiled, in a painfully understanding way that made Harry almost annoyed at her.

“Maybe I want to talk to other blokes.” He offered, a hint of a challenge, desperately, and uncharacteristically wanting to talk about anyone other than Draco Malfoy.

“Yeah, okay, go ahead, Harry. Talk to other blokes. I give you full permission and my loving support to go out there and get wild with anyone you fancy, of any gender! Shall I make you an online dating profile?”

He was glaring at her now, his bluff thoroughly called.

“Yeah, exactly.” It drove Harry mad how smug and self assured she could be when she knew she was right.

“Just think about it, Harry. Maybe it’s not Draco and maybe gay isn’t the right label, but I think you’d definitely be happier in a more queer relationship. With someone who can support that side of you and understand it in a way that I can’t.”

Harry eventually lay back down with Ginny’s hand on the nape of his neck, soothing and familiar. Comforting. Something he had scarcely had much of in his life. Something he was deeply afraid to lose. And perhaps that was the crux of the matter. He was afraid. Afraid of this carefully built safety coming undone, afraid of change and uncertainty, afraid of facing the parts of himself that had been most carefully buried and stacked away, afraid of his own feelings and the feelings of others. Afraid of the word queer and the implications it might have on how he navigated the world, how it might change the relationships between himself and those he held closest.

He thought of Draco, of grey eyes and loud laughs, of strong hands and steely resolve, of the kindness and acceptance, of the banter and challenges. His mind crept to that dark corner where unseen things sat hidden from view, lumped together and crumpled in the folds of memories he’d rather forget.

For the first time in his life, Harry allowed himself the permission to explore the recesses of his own mind, unfold the unnamed thoughts and feel uncharted feelings left to moulder and gather dust.

He didn’t sleep the rest of the night, laid there on the cotton sheets as clouds parted with the first rays of morning light spilling into the room. The frequency of cars through the puddles below had increased and birds had long begun their morning sonnets as Harry, newly awash in the possibilities of his queerness, sat up and thought that perhaps, it was an excellent morning to harass his favourite Slytherin.

#harry potter #drarry #oneshot #fanfic #fan fic #draco malfoy #drarry is cannon #fan fiction #hp #drarry squad #ginny weasley #post war hinny #friends to lovers to platonic bffs #enemies to friends to lovers #post war

[fanoftheimagines]

The Old Witch Sleep and the Good Man Grace

The Old Witch Sleep and the Good Man Grace

Pairing: Jaskier/Reader

The Amazing Devil Writing Challenge

Reader Gender: Non-Binary, implied reader has breasts and “binds”

CW: Drowners (decaying corpse monsters), sword-fighting, Igni (fire sign), injury, blood, stitches, pain, worried Jaskier, comfort, implied nudity, fluff, pre-relationship

Word Count: 879

Summary: When a drowner gets a lucky hit, Geralt and Jaskier have to patch up your injuries.

A/N: As requested, I now present hurt/comfort for @zana999​.

Masterlist

The Amazing Devil Writing Challenge Masterlist

GIF: https://jaskiersource.tumblr.com/post/678484340166082560/sandraharissa-jaskier-whump-24-fear

The drowners were on you soon after you and Geralt reached the river. They crawled out quickly. They were a sickly blueish green, their bodies grotesquely bloated and coated in slime and sludge. The stench of rot and decay wafted off of them – which made sense since they were necrophages.

Your silver sword squelched as you sliced through the slimy, sluffing skin of the drowner. It fell quickly. Then, you promptly turned to the next one. You and Geralt were working through the five or so of them rather easily. Well, Geralt was. His Igni burned hot near you every so often. You would’ve been overwhelmed in minutes if he wasn’t there.

A drowner’s groan made you turn around. You swung your sword back. The sickening sound of your hit twisted your stomach, but you did your best to ignore it.

The hit came out of nowhere.

Pain blossomed across your shoulder, so intense you screamed and fell forward, barely managing to catch yourself on the muddy ground. Fire warmed the air around you a second later. Blood dripped from the rough, brutal gash on your back. You gripped it desperately. The pain was white-hot, as agonizing as a burn but as sharp as a knife wound. Your grip on your sword loosened, but you didn’t let it fall.

You could still hear Geralt fighting behind you. The cut, probably not as debilitating for a Witcher, had knocked you down and out. There was no way you could properly defend yourself in this state. Geralt dropped the last drowner swiftly. Then, sword still in hand, he hoisted you to your feet and slung your arm around his shoulder. Your sword hung barely in your hand as it essentially dragged behind you.

Getting back to camp was slow going. Your injury slowed you down and Geralt, at some point, had leaned you against a tree, put your swords away, and scooped you into his arms. Your wound burned with every step he took. You tucked your face into Geralt’s filthy neck and tried to think about something else. Anything else.

Jaskier jolted up when you broke the tree line of your camp. He let out a small gasp and put his hand over his mouth. Geralt ignored him in leu of setting you on one of the rolled-out bedrolls next to the fire.

“Jaskier,” Geralt growled, slightly knocking him from his shock, “their bag. Now.” Jaskier nodded numbly and hurriedly moved to hand it to him. Geralt pulled a familiar brown bottle from your bag, pulled the stopper, and handed it to you. “Drink.” You grimaced at the bitter taste as the pain potion went down.

“What happened?” Jaskier asked. Even though you couldn’t see his face, you could tell by the broken sound of his voice he was worried.

Again, Geralt ignored him. “This is going to hurt.” He said, giving you a second warning before pouring the disinfectant onto your shoulder. You yelled at the sudden sting. A hand – Jaskier’s, judging by the rings – squeezed yours. With a knife, Geralt cut your tunic and chemise away to further reveal the wound properly.

“It got a good hit, but nothing too serious. You’ll just have to take it easy until it heals.” Geralt murmured as he began to stitch you up.

You squeezed your eyes shut and focused on the warmth of Jaskier’s hand. “Breathe,” Jaskier whispered as he stroked your hair back from your face. You let out a deep exhale and rested your head against his shoulder. “That’s it, just breathe. It’ll be over soon. You can do this.” You winced and tightened your squeeze on his hand at a particularly painful tug. You shook your head. You couldn’t do this. “You can. You’re brave. They broke you and still you breathe. You can do this.”  He whispered.

And then, after what felt like ages, Geralt tapped your arm. You let out a breath of relief as you sagged against Jaskier’s chest. “We need to wrap the wound.”

You groaned but nodded. Together, the three of you maneuvered you out of your tunic, kirtle, and chemise, with Jaskier considerately averting his eyes as he helped you remove them. You held your ripped chemise to your chest as Geralt wrapped your shoulder. Jaskier, meanwhile, fished out a fresh chemise and less-bloody trousers.  

By the time you were ready for bed, you were completely spent. It took all of your energy just to keep your eyes open long enough for Jaskier to help you under your blanket. When he moved to pull away, you grabbed his hand. “Stay?”

Jaskier nodded and pulled his bedroll next to yours. He laid down then pulled you into him. Tenderly – too tenderly for friendship, unless you were reading it wrong, and you were exhausted, so it was possible – he wrapped his arm around your waist. You settled against his chest, your head at his heart. The sound of his steady heartbeat relaxed you almost instantly.

“Sleep now.” He mumbled, tracing light designs on your skin. “Worry tomorrow. Just rest now.”

His sweet voice, soft touch, and reassuring heartbeat lulled you to sleep. And despite the nightmares, you were sure would follow, you felt safe in Jaskier’s arms and with Geralt watching over you.

Do not copy to another site. Ask for permission before bookbinding. I EXPLICITLY FORBID ANYONE FROM FEEDING MY FICS TO AI. All rude comments will be blocked and deleted.

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#general warning #jaskier imagine #jaskier x reader #the witcher imagine #the witcher x reader #enby!reader #romantic!reader #enbyxm #my fanfic

[queensoybean0724]

Succession Chapter 1 (Karl Heisenberg/female reader) Resident Evil Village fic

Here is chapter one of my new fanfic!

Title: Succession

Characters: Karl Heisenberg, female reader, OCs

Rating: PG-13 for language and intense scenes (for now, this is a slow burn, but it will get very hot and spicy in later chapters)

Summary: You discover a long lost relative from Moldova that you didn’t know existed has died and you are his sole beneficiary.  You are on board a plane to collect your inheritance when your plane crashes in a village in Romania.

Author’s Notes: I do not own the characters from Resident Evil Village.  This is a work of fiction.  Anything remotely similar to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.

Chapter 1

The music blasted from the car speakers as you drove down the main road towards the highway.  You had your phone plugged into your car stereo, your favorite Spotify playlist on shuffle.  Despite the A/C being on full blast, beads of sweat formed at your brow and rolled down your temple.  You adjusted the vents on either side of you, making sure the cold air directly hit your body.  The song that was playing had you tapping your fingers on the steering wheel, your head bopping to the beat.

The fridge at home was close to empty and it was beyond time for you to go grocery shopping.  The grocery list was secure in your purse and you were determined to stick to the items on the list and not make any frivolous purchases.  Money was tight and you only had so much money left before payday next week.

The song shut off suddenly followed by your ringtone.  Looking at the screen of your phone, UNKNOWN stared back at you. Probably a spam call, you thought to yourself, reaching to press the red Ignore button.  Unfortunately, your finger slid at the last minute and mistakenly tapped the Accept button. You watched as the call came through and the seconds ticked off.  FUCK!

“Hello?” you greeted with a hint of exasperation in your voice.

“Hello, am I speaking with Miss Y/N?” a heavily accented male voice responded.

“Yeah, this is she,” you muttered, rolling your eyes.  You tried your best to avoid these calls, ignoring them and letting them go straight to voicemail.  Very rarely was it followed with an actual message, which was more than fine with you.

“Miss Y/N, my name is Ron M. Dathermi.  I am a lawyer residing in Chisinau, Moldova in Eastern Europe…”

You raised your eyebrows at that.  Moldova?  Who the hell was calling you from Moldova?  Chalking it up to a scam, you were about to interrupt the man when he continued.

“...I wish I was calling under better circumstances, but I’m afraid I have some bad news.  Your great uncle, Serghei Popa, has passed away from a short illness and has named you his sole beneficiary…”

You couldn’t help the amused huff that came out of your mouth.  This must be some very elaborate scam.

“Umm...sorry, but I think you have the wrong person.  I don’t have family from Moldova and I have never heard of this man in my whole life.” You were about to hit the End button when Mr. Dathermi continued.

“Am I speaking with Y/N, born on (your birthday) to (your father and mother’s full names) and the granddaughter of (your grandfather and grandmother on both sides of your family)?”

Your eyes widened at that.  “Yeah, that’s me…” you answered.

“I know this may sound unusual, but Mr. Popa was the brother of your grandmother on your mother’s side.  He was given up for adoption at birth and taken in by a Moldovan family.  He did not have a spouse and had no children, and according to the genealogy report I have before me, your grandmother and your mother are both deceased.  Your mother was an only child, yes?  It appears to me that you are the last of his living relatives.”

You pulled off the road and into an empty parking lot.  The information you were being given was a lot to handle.  You didn’t have that large of a family.  You were an only child and raised by your parents and both sets of grandparents.  Both of your grandfathers had died before you turned 10.  Both grandmothers died within 5 years of each other and your father and mother died of illnesses, cancer and pneumonia respectively, in the last year.  Grief was a feeling that you knew better than anyone.  You kept to yourself mostly and you didn’t have any close friends or a significant other.

“Listen,” you began, “you are correct about all of your information, but how do I know this is not some kind of scam?”

The man on the other end of the phone cleared his throat and the sound of shuffling papers met your ears.  “I can imagine that this information is sudden and unusual.  What I will do is send a copy of his will and a copy of the genealogy papers to your address.  I encourage you to take this to your lawyer and have them look over the information.  The reason I am calling is because I need you to fly to Moldova, sign these papers, and accept the monetary inheritance that he has left you.”

Your jaw dropped as you looked down at your phone.  Fly to Moldova?  Is this true?  The only thing you knew about the country was that a foreign exchange student from high school was born and raised in Moldova.  That about sums up your knowledge of the country. This seemed incredibly asinine and ridiculous.  But the word that settled in your train of thought was “inheritance.” What inheritance?

“Mr...what was your name again?” you asked.

“Mr. Dathermi, but you can call me Ron,” the lawyer responded.

“Ron...umm, how much monetary inheritance are we talking about?”

More shuffling of papers was on the other side of the phone, Ron clicking his tongue as he looked through the information.  “He has left you 53,806,746 Moldovan Leu...which translates to $3,000,000 in American currency.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!?!” you exclaimed before clamping your lips shut.  You heard Ron chuckle.  “I’m sorry, pardon my language. It’s just...wow...this sounds insane…”

“I can imagine it does,” Ron replied, “which is why I want to mail this information to you and have your attorney take a look at it so you know this is a legitimate will and testament.  If you would like, I can mail the information straight to your attorney if you are still leery.”

“No, no, that’s okay,” you said, shaking your head.  Your mind was whirling.  None of this sounded remotely true.  You felt as if you were dreaming.  This felt like something that only happened in books and fairy tales...a girl who had nothing and nobody suddenly inheriting millions of dollars from an unknown distant relative.  What are the odds of something like this happening in real life?  You gave Ron Dathermi your home address.

“Thank you very much, Miss Y/N.  I will send this as soon as possible.  I’ll also include my business card so your attorney can contact me and we can iron out the details.  Thank you very much, Y/N...I’ll be in touch.”

You thanked him as well and ended the call.  All alone in your car in the empty parking lot, you let out an excited squeal and started hopping up and down.

*

You adjusted the messenger bag that was slung across your shoulder as you heard the overhead speaker call for the boarding of your flight.  Taking a deep breath, you got in line, extended your ticket to the airport employee, and walked down the tarmac and into the plane.

Butterflies were fluttering in your stomach.  Your hands gripped your bag tightly as the flight attendant looked at your boarding pass and pointed down the aisle to where you were to be seated.  You had never flown before and your nerves were on alert.  Scenes from Final Destination flashed in your head as you walked down the aisle towards your seat.  Taking a deep breath and willing your body to relax, you located your seat next to the window and sat down, plopping your bag onto your lap.  

The small window was close to the wing of the plane and looking beyond that was a long expanse of grass that met a vast forest.  You were thankful that you had the window seat and your headphones so you could tune everything out and relax in your own little world.

Once the papers from Mr. Dathermi arrived a week prior, you immediately called the attorney that helped you with the probate and will from your parents’ deaths several months back.  He was more than happy to help, knowing that you were all alone in the world after your parents had passed.  Two days later, he called to inform you that all of the paperwork was, in fact, legitimate and that Mr. Serghei Popa was the brother of your grandmother.  He showed you the adoption papers, confirming that your great uncle had been put up for adoption and the family that took him in had relocated to Moldova when he was two years old.  He had remained in the country until his death.  Your attorney contacted Mr. Dathermi, who in turn secured a round trip plane ticket in order for you to come to Moldova to finalize the paperwork and collect the inheritance.

At the thought of the money you were about to acquire, another surge of excitement flowed through you.  Your parents hadn’t left you much after their death and you worked at a dead-end job that had no room for advancement and no possibility for raises.  All of these recent events sounded like something out of a fairy tale.

“This is your captain speaking,” the voice sounded from the speaker above your head, “we will be departing in the next ten minutes.  Please make sure your seatbelts are secured, your tray tables are up, and all electronics are off until we are at the appropriate cruising altitude.  I will inform everyone as soon as the coast is clear.  Thank you for flying with us and enjoy the ride.”

You fastened your seatbelt and laid your head back, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath.

“Don’t be nervous…” a voice sounded next to you.  You opened your eyes and looked over to see an older gentleman with wide rimmed glasses and a nice smile.

“Is it that obvious?” you asked, returning his smile.

“It’s pretty obvious,” he chuckled, “my name is Bruce Williams.  I’m the air marshal on board this flight.” You told him your name and shook his hand. “Just relax,” he assured, “we’ll be flying for the next 10 hours.  There are lots of movies and tv shows to watch on the screen in front of you, or you can listen to your music and read a book if you brought one.”

You patted your messenger bag.  “Yeah, I have a few books to choose from.  Thanks,” you smiled.

Within minutes, the plane had backed away from the tarmac, turned towards the long expanse of runway, and increased speed before leaving the ground and soaring up into the clouds.

*

The steady hum of the plane’s engines provided a relaxed soundtrack as you slept.  It was close to early morning, according to the clock on the tv screen, but your watch was still on your regular time zone.  It read early afternoon and that threw you through a loop.  You had heard that jet lag could be a bitch and you wondered how bad yours would be once you landed.  Bruce had passed you a pillow and blanket once you were ready to sleep and he assured you that your bag and belongings would be safe while you slept.

You were so thankful to be seated next to him.  Not only was he the air marshal, but he was a really cool person as well.  You two talked about movies and actually watched a couple of them on the tv screen in front of you.  Bruce was kind and nice to talk to.  The crinkle of crow’s feet around his eyes, his laugh, and his hair color mixed with hints of gray reminded you of your father...maybe that’s why you liked him so much.

You shifted in your seat and let out a soft yawn.  Stretching your arms above your head and arching your back, you wondered how much longer it would be until you touched down in Moldova.

“You weren’t asleep that long,” Bruce murmured.  You looked over to see a book in his hand and his glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom and then go back to sleep,” you replied, standing from your seat.  Bruce stood up and allowed you out into the aisle.  You made your way to the bathroom towards the back of the plane.  The cabin was dark with little lights dotting either side of the aisle on the floor. Soft lights were shining here and there from people reading, watching the tv screen, or messing with their phones while most of the passengers were asleep.

Once in the bathroom, you did your business, flushed the toilet, and began washing your hands.  The mirror in front of you showed a tired and weary version of yourself.  Some of your eye makeup was smudged.  You told yourself once  you returned back to your seat, you’d retrieve the makeup remover wipes in your bag and do away with the dirt and oil.

Just then the plane hit an air pocket and dropped several feet, throwing  you forward towards the sink and mirror.  You let out a shriek as the plane quieted and went still.  “God dammit,” you muttered, putting your hand over your heart, “that scared the shit out of me!”

Once out of the bathroom, you slammed the door shut and walked back to your seat.  You tapped Bruce on the shoulder and he moved aside.

You lifted the window shade and looked outside.  Natural light from the start of the day began to show.  The plane was amongst the clouds so it was fairly cloudy and hard to see.

“How much farther do we have?” you asked Bruce.  He shifted the book to his left hand and looked down at his wristwatch.  “We should be there in three hours.  I think we are flying over Romania right now…”

You nodded your head and thanked him, turning back to the window.  The clouds gave way momentarily and provided the opportunity to see the ground below.  Tall, snowy mountains came into view.  You smiled and marveled at their beauty, wondering what mountain range this was.  You cursed yourself for forgetting the basics from your World Geography class in high school.  Hell, all you knew about Romania was that it was the setting for Dracula and the real life territory that was once owned by Elizabeth Bathory, who allegedly killed upwards of 650 maidens and bathed in their blood.  You shook your head and smiled to yourself.  You really did enjoy some morbid and fucked up stories.

Your train of thought stopped short when a large and spacious castle came into view.  Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped.  It looked like something out of a Disney movie or from ancient castles that still sat throughout Europe.  The place looked like it stood on several acres of land and who knows how many square feet.  What a gorgeous and breathtaking place it was.  You wondered just what was inside a monstrosity like that and who was lucky enough to inhabit such a place.  Maybe there were castles in Moldova that you could explore and visit while you’re conducting your business.

The castle fell out of view and not far from it stood what looked like a village.  You were too high up to see any people or any traces of lights or torches.  You took everything in with total awe and appreciation.  It looked like a small and sleepy storybook town.

A sudden movement close to the village caught your attention.  You squinted your eyes and tried to look closer, pressing your forehead to the window.  What the fuck is that, you wondered.  It looked like a black tree, naked of leaves or any type of growth...and it was moving.  It looked to be swaying in the breeze, but the size of it looked way too sturdy for any kind of gust to move it with such fluidity.  As you focused on the tree, it appeared to be growing...getting closer to the plane.  Was the plane descending?  Were you getting closer to Moldova?

One of the branches of the tree slowly drifted to the ground before extending long and rigid, slinging itself up into the air like a bullwhip, hitting the wing of the plane.  The plane suddenly tilted as the slithering limb wrapped around the wing and broke it off.  You let out a loud scream as the plane turned on its side, Bruce falling against you, squishing you to the wall.  “WHAT THE FUCK??” Bruce screamed as yelps, shrieks, and screams echoed in the cabin of the plane.  Dozens of people were knocked from their seats, flight attendants falling into the aisle and rolling towards the cockpit.  The plane shook and quaked as it dropped several feet in a matter of seconds.

“OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!” you screamed, grabbing hold of Bruce’s arm.  The air masks dropped from overhead and Bruce grabbed yours, making quick work of putting it over your face.  “HOLD ON TO IT! HOLD IT OVER YOUR MOUTH, Y/N!!” he commanded, reaching for his own mask.

“THE WING OF THE PLANE HAS BEEN DAMAGED!” the pilot yelled from over the speakers, “WE ARE LOSING ALTITUDE! BRACE FOR IMPACT!”  People screamed and panicked, holding on to whatever it was they could.  Panic surged through your body as your fingers dug into Bruce’s arm.  The plane shook as it fell.  Your stomach dropped and it felt as if you were seconds from impact.  You looked out the window one last time before the ground came into view and everything went black.

*

He leaned over the body on the metal table in the lab of his factory.  He fastened the bolts with a wrench and tested the strength of the metal against the rotting flesh.  A soft horn sounded in the distance along with the various turns of chains and clangs of steel against steel.  He wiped the sweat off his brow and walked to his desk, looking over the blueprints and sketches he had devised the previous day.

Despite the different array of sounds, nothing could mask the loud crash that sounded off in the distance.  He lifted his head, silently trying to figure out what the fuck made that noise.  Leaving the body laying on the table, he exited his lab and made his way down the stairs and to the factory doors.  

With a grunt, he slid the doors aside and looked off into the distance.  Black smoke billowed from an area that looked to be close to the village.  Other than the crows squawking and flapping their wings in retreat, everything was dead quiet.  He looked off to the right just in time to see the long, spindly limbs of mold retreating back towards the earth.  Karl Heisenberg’s face tightened in a disgusted grimace.

“Mother Miranda...what have you done?”

#resident evil village #resident evil village fanfic #karl heisenberg #karl heisenburg x reader #daddy heisenberg #house heisenberg #heisenberg #karl heisenberg fanfic

[sassooda]

Worlds Away JJK AU / Chapter 49 - You are Mine 🔞

w/c - 7,305

               Suguru uncomfortably shifts in his seat at the first sounding of Naoya’s moans. He tries to distract his mind by focusing on anything in the room that would remotely steal his attention. When Elska’s voice is heard in unison with the Zenin, he can’t help but release a small sigh. ‘Is he feeling what I felt before?’, he wonders in annoyance, dreading the fact that she feeds from Naoya often.

               Toji is back to staring at Sain as everyone in the room stands by their seats, still caught up by Naoya producing his wings. When the tall Titer’s grey eyes meet his own, he gives the man in yellow a small devilish smirk but finds intimidating him wasn’t going to be as easy at he thought. ‘He seems rightfully cautious but doesn’t even flinch…’, Toji thinks while they have a visual standoff.

               “Ba-mmmmm…Baby…”, Naoya is struggling to let Elska know that he’s calmed down, still feeling wonderfully liquified from her drinking. He can’t even help it, the sensation she gives him as she pulls has left hard evidence in its wake. He groans deeply to relaxing way she breathes through her nose, placing his hands on the back of her head and waist. “Princess…”, he gasps suddenly when it continues to feel good, shutting his eyes until she shortly reaches up to close the wounds.

               Elska goes to lean her body back upright, coincidentally sitting on his lap to do so. As soon as her bottom is resting against his pelvis, she can feel that he got a little excited from her bite and wide eyes him as they sit alone with this information and are surrounded by others. She was already doing her best to repress her pheromones but experiences the billowing of pressure in her chest and freezes in place in an attempt to quell the storm. ‘Why does he have to this effect on me still!?’, the inconvenience of her prince’s ability to raise her arousal poking into her.

               “Love? Is he your new seat or something?”, Gojo asks with slight irritation. When she turns her head to look at him though, the flustered expression she wears has him standing stiffly. “Seriously?”, he quickly asks, knowing what her tell tale signs were. “Can you get up? Do you need help?”.

               Elska is taking monitored deep breaths, being afraid to move until the pheromones start dissipating. She nods to Gojo, not meaning it in connection to his questions but as a gesture to inform him that she just needed a minute. She feels Satoru bend down beside her, his murky eyes telling her of his impatience so she decides to try. As soon as she shifts her weight to try to stand, Naoya’s hands firmly hold her hips back in place.

               Naoya mumbles under his breath with haste, “Baby…I have a boner…if you get up everyone will see!”, hoping he wasn’t as loud as his paranoia indicated. He smiles awkwardly while feeling her raised temperature and says more clearly for everyone to hear, “Oh Gojo, don’t get jealous, we sit like this all the time!”, but is met with the silver shaman’s unimpressed glare.

               Genghis exhales heavily and slumps into his seat, tugging on Getou’s arm to do the same. “This is the most dysfunctional meeting I’ve ever lived through…”, he says into his hands. “Sain, will you see to Amnessia being healed?”, he raises his hand in leu of thanks when the Titer walks over to the woman and picks her up. Before he leaves with her though, Genghis adds, “…And check to see how Ms. Fushiguro is doing will you?”, in a much quieter tone. Nothing is said in return but Genghis knows that Sain will do as asked.

               Toji’s gaze now shifts to Suguru. He watches the way Getou runs his fingers through the parts of his hair that are tied back into a bun while trying to ignore the shenanigans. ‘This must be bothering him…’, Toji now brings his eyes to Elska as she stretches the fabric of her golden yukata to immeasurable ends while she straddles Naoya. “Doll, why are you still down there?”. Only now through his periphery vision can he see Suguru look, eager to understand as well.

               Gojo flicks Naoya in the ear with all of his might, “Because Zenin here has a raging hard-on that he doesn’t want to share with the rest of us.”. When Naoya yelps to the second flick, Elska and the Zenin fall a few inches as Naoya’s wings disappear. Gojo scrunches his face in displeasure and says, “Tell him Toji…”.

               “You little shit.”, Toji chuckles out, gladly embracing this weird halt in the moment as tensions were still pretty high with the discussion of Choso. He can’t see Naoya’s face but laughs louder when his cousin’s hand lifts with a middle finger.

               Naoya grunts to feeling her warmth on his lap, trying to ignore lewd thoughts it brings him to, “You just HAD TO fucking say it Gojo, didn’t you?”, embarrassed by how easily he was turned on in this setting. “It’s like a fucking instinct you silver dick, I can’t help it when she bites me now!”, Naoya whines while making a pouty face to Elska.

               Finally feeling a little less compressed, Elska giggles to the way Naoya reacts to Gojo’s teasing. “My prince, since they all know…can I get up?”, she rests her hands on his chest and taps her fingers gently against his robes. She feels a pinch on her right butt cheek and jumps in place to find Satoru there with open arms. ‘Poor Sati, he’s been more covetous than usual.’, she thinks while giving him a threatening but playful look.

               Suguru is becoming angrier by the minute as he takes in the casual but sensual dynamic the 4 of them share. ‘Is it that? They just share her?”, the epiphany disgusts him thoroughly as he imagines scenarios similar to what he saw recently through his seeing technique. “What the fuck…”, he blurts out loud, instantly regretting it as the room becomes even quieter.

               “Little one?”, Genghis nudges his pupil lightly with concern. He understands this must be difficult now that Suguru has taken a liking to her and sympathizes. He gives a small but reassuring grin as he says internally, ‘Just wait Master Suguru, you too will have your time together…’.

               Sensing Suguru’s discontent, Gojo huffs and stands abruptly. He grabs Elska’s wrist and lifts her to her feet before dipping her backwards in his arms. She lets out a startled squeal while Naoya launches up to do a 180 and adjust himself. She asks, “Sati?”, which makes him genuinely smile. Without words, he ducks down to Elska and kisses her with genuine dramatics. Although he wanted to continue, he keeps it brief as he was incredibly enthusiastic to see the hurt on Getou’s face. When his eyes find the Titer, a satisfied sensation washes over him, staring into Suguru with unapologetic supremacy. “My, my…” Gojo taunts, while reveling in the heated glare, “Do we bother you?”, ending with an arrogant grin as he slides his hands down Elska’s back in perfect view for the Titer to see.

               Toji comprehends what Gojo is doing and usually, he’d let this take its course but the possibility of a fight breaking out when they should be discussing what to do forces him to interrupt. “Gojo, quit peacocking like a damn child…”, not finishing his sentence as he fights off his curiosity about the mention of Sachiko.

               Genghis clears his throat before aggravatingly saying, “Yes well, I will just go ahead and say it before we deviate too far off course here…”, and motions for everyone to sit back down. He watches Gojo sits in the middle of the couch again and waits for Elska to return to his lap like a starving childing about to receive a meal. ‘He’s going to be far more trouble than he’s worth…’, seeping through his thoughts. Once everyone is situated Genghis proceeds with, “The King warned me that he will bring his army to this world in order to enact his wishes.”.

               Elska’s and Naoya’s jaws drop at the same time and are both without words. Elska immediately tenses up as she thinks about having to face who knows how many beings like herself. She darts her eyes to Suguru as if for clarification and is met by a worried expression that shocks her into believing the statement. She takes a deep breath, trying to remain calm under the guilt of being the reason for this presumed destruction when she feels Gojo’s lips against the back of her shoulder.

               “Love, don’t get worked up…we won’t let anything bad happen to you…”, Satoru states to her with a soothing reassurance in his tone. ‘I should’ve tried harder that day…I should’ve annihilated that cunt.’, he clenches his jaw while in shadow of Elska to hide his disdain to what he feels is a humiliating failure.  

               “Shit…”, Naoya finally manages to comment, “SHIT!”. He leans forward and jerks his head towards Toji, Elska and Gojo, “There’s only 2 of us!”, he exclaims, wondering how he would expect others to fight beings like them while restricted to the ground.

               Toji reluctantly chirps out, “3. There’s 3 now…”, and points over to Choso, narrowing his eyes while mentally avoiding the ramifications that situation will surely bring.

               “…God damnit…”, Naoya leans back into the couch, frustrated about Choso waking up all over again. “Fucki-…3…fine, whatever.”, he folds his arms and brings his gaze to Genghis, “How are we going to win this when we’re so badly outnumbered?”.

               Gojo bounces his leg absentmindedly, interested in Genghis’s response as he now gathers the Titer must have a plan of some sort by the lack of equal panic. Elska leans back further into him though, causing him to notice the bouncing he was making her endure and settles more comfortably into the couch. Satoru’s brain fires off possible situations where he would be able to take out large numbers at once but then it hits him like a brick. “The blood substitutions…”, he shares with the others, “That’s why you wanted Shoko to make thousands of them…”. He sees Naoya’s confused face and spills, “They kidnapped Shoko in hopes of being able to make the blood substitute that will act as nourishment for you guys.”. Narrowing his focus onto Genghis, Gojo suggests, “You want Elska to make an army too.”.

               When Naoya sees Genghis affirm this with a nod, he becomes defensive and yells, “NO. FUCK NO.”, and grabs Elska’s left hand. Disoriented by the cruel idea, he faces her and says, “Baby you can’t do that…you know what that means! Toji, how dare you back this?!”, and feels his eyes welling up when images of her being swarmed by nameless men crucify his mind. He allows his presence to flow naturally, warning the others that he will not simply complain about this but rather, will take action.

               Elska squeezes Naoya’s hand in fear and wonders verbally, “Am I going to have to…sleep with them all?”, and begins crying by the end of her question feeling shame rot her skin in the form of every one’s prying eyes.

               Suguru postures upward when he hears her breaking voice, wishing he could provide her comfort as well as clarity. Wanting to end the nightmarish things she must be imagining, he quickly adds, “I promise you with everything I am that you will have to do no such thing, Elska…”, relief blankets him slightly when he witnesses her take a deep breath of reprieve.

               “Lady Oda, you would have to puncture them and turn them yourself but even the strongest shaman we have in mind are no where near the levels of your current…collection in matter of power. It is because of this, they don’t pose as much of a threat as someone of the hybrid’s caliber meaning the guaranteed ability to control them isn’t even a necessary fail safe.”. Genghis waits for a moment to see if everyone is still following along, “These mass turned I’m hypothesizing, they will be suited just fine with the substitute. You can feed some of them if you want but they will be able to independently survive away from your nutrients otherwise.”.

               Naoya realizes that he was holding his breath and releases a gust of graciousness, “Oh-my-God-thank-God.”. He swiftly hugs Elska and quietly laughs down into her ear, relaxing again and feeling weightless in comparison to before after gaining that news.

               Gojo calmly but dutifully asks, “And just where are all of these independent turned going to come from?”. Suspicion begins calling to him as he considers how good of an idea this is, ‘It’s flawless actually…’, but hides his doubts and growing worries over how much thought Genghis has put into this. ‘I need to keep an eye on him.’.

               Toji crosses over his left leg, wanting to just touch Elska and be supportive. She rests her hand on his knee which tells him she understood. “Doll, how do you feel about all of this?”, he asks concerningly before Genghis could answer anything. “No one is going to force you to do anything, remember that.”. He now covers her hand with his own, shielding it from the topic.

               Genghis grins, “We will have many volunteers across the families. I’ve already recruited a decent number of Titers and have been working with the Major clans on a truce that would bring us all together for this common cause, our survival.”.  

               “Love?”, Gojo secures her in his arms further and rests his chin on her right shoulder, “Don’t decide anything just yet, we can think about it.”.

               Suguru groans, having been fed up with how clingy Gojo is, “I do believe she is her own person. I don’t know why I would expect you to understand this when you’re so far up her ass all of the time though.”. He recomposes himself quickly however, having felt better for at least having said that much.

               “It’s actually whenever I’m up her ass that I feel we’re physically connected the most…”. Gojo deviously replies, burying his lips back into Elska’s shoulder ready to do damage control. ‘I am going to be in trouble for that one...’, he thinks with squinted but exacting eyes.

               Elska catches the anger on Suguru’s face before looking to the floor and elbowing Satoru. The heat from her cheeks is undeniable as she tries to detach from the idea that Gojo just gloated about anal in front of everyone. “Sati…what on Earth were you thinking?”, she interrogates quietly to the culprit she’s sitting on.                

               Naoya who is unsure of what to say as he was expecting Elska to freak out, remains quiet while eyeing Toji in a way that asks, “DID HE REALLY JUST SAY THAT?”. He reads Toji having a different reaction though, the deadpan expression indicates that the beloved man is contemplating on swinging. ‘I would literally never speak about our dirty dealings like that!’, and wheezes to how abhorrent Gojo can be.  “Gojo, you dick.”, he crossly whispers.

               Getou stands after a prolonged uncomfortable silence and addresses Elska solely, “We are arranging beds for everyone. Take your time to process all that was said, we can still train in the meantime.”. When Gojo and Naoya narrow their eyes to him he smiles kindly and continues, “Oh yes, our training begins in the morning and may prove to be quite imaginative.”. Suguru can feel the atmosphere dampen as her lovers protectively hover her, “I will do my best so that we can both grow to become the most optimal team possible. We will have to bear ourselves to each other in order to sync up; it’s a different form of intimacy…”, and winks to her. As if the day hadn’t held enough surprises, he barely catches her blushing which fills him with a new confidence. ‘How does it feel Satoru Gojo?’, he mocks internally.

               Elska can feel Gojo’s energy shifting as his patience runs thin. In a quick attempt to keep the exchange peaceful she hastily states, “I will be ready when you are.”, and soon understands that only made Gojo worse. With breath solidifying in her lungs, she worriedly nods to Suguru, relaxing once its clear that he is indeed excusing himself. ‘Was he flirting with me?’, she ponders alone while watching him exit the room. She giggles to herself over Suguru’s demeanor, that of which she wasn’t expecting. ‘I guess I don’t really know who he is though…’, her eyebrows raise to the foreshadowed clue that she would soon enough.

               “Right. Give us a few minutes to finalize these arrangements.”, Genghis now stands up too and bows, “I will come back for you all momentarily.”, then turning to hurry out of the room to catch up with his pupil. ‘She loved that!’, Genghis thinks with glee, ‘Very smooth indeed, little one!’.

               Once the room is left to just them Naoya asks, “Toji, is that what you were wanting us to listen to? The reason why we’re still fucking here?”. He knows his mood has been flattened by Suguru’s presumptuous behavior but isn’t actually wanting to take it out on them. Before the words were left to linger too long he adds, “Sorry for the attitude…that guy, he just….ARGH he pisses me off!”. Naoya tugs at his golden robes and scoffs, “If the Zenin could see me now…”.

                Toji sighs, “Yea that was the gist of it…”, and leans his face into his right hand. “The King is supposed to be a pretty powerful guy and has 200 odd years of experience under his belt.”. He sluggishly twists his body so he can see Gojo and Naoya both, “If you guys keep trying to go at it with Getou, you’ll only be ensuring the King’s success.”. He notices both men are actually listening to him when they depress to his words. “We need everybody we can get if we’re going to stop this from happening, you both understand this right?”.

               Naoya lazily whines, “Yessss…we understand…”.

               Gojo pats Elska’s thigh to signal that he wants to get up. She acknowledges and scoots up his legs until she can find footing. She plans to hug him once he’s up too, having become worried about how he’s feeling about everything and wanting to remind him that he’s still important to her. When he stands though, he beats her to it and embraces her so delicately that she almost doesn’t believe its him.

               “My love?”, he asks, “Come with me for a moment?”, when she questions if they’re going somewhere he responds, “Yes but we’ll be right back!”, and smiles to the approving nod from Toji.

               “Just don’t take too long or else you won’t know where to sleep!”, Toji tries to joke, knowing that Gojo probably just needs some alone time. Something he can relate to completely. Shortly afterwards, Gojo and Elska are gone. He turns to Naoya who’s now brooding and says, “Boy, Gojo needs to be reassured by her, he gets this way sometimes. I think he’s stressed out over his history with the Titers as well as everything else.”. Naoya doesn’t say anything in response but seems less moody over him taking her away. “You’ll just have to hang out with an old fart for a bit.”.

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               “Sati, we can’t leave everyone there!”, Elska looks around and recognizes their room back at the dorms. She sees the evening sky outside of their large window, wishing it would’ve been daytime as she misses the sun. ‘The stars are still beautiful though!’.

               “We’re not love! I just wanted to ask a favor of you.”, He begins rummaging through drawers, searching for something specific while Elska enjoys the familiar surroundings, the comfort it brings them both.

               She spins in place, never thinking she would miss the campus as much as she has in the short time they’ve spent at the compound. When she notices that Satoru is going through her dresser, she can’t help but ask, “What are you looking for?”, and giggles when he beams her a wide smile. She catches a hint of something that he quickly stuffs in his pocket, something that was a bright light blue color. She mentally sorts through all of her garments, lacking knowledge of owning anything that loud in hue.

               While she’s lost in thought, Satoru now scurries to the bedside table and looks for the last ingredient needed. He doesn’t see it though and lifts his head to count the other two nightstands on either side of the other bed, sighing, ‘I wanted it to be a complete surprise…’, knowing she’ll put it together if she sees him searching through them.

               Elska turns her attention to Satoru mischievously smiling at her as he slowly closes the drawer. “Oh, I know what you’re up to now…”, she twists her hips slightly as his expression that speaks, “You got me!”, knowing he’s looking for the little pink mouse. “I thought you needed a favor Sati, not that you were planning on doing me one!”, she laughs when he walks to the other side of the bed, neither denying or confessing. That’s when something catches her eye. She approaches to her side of the bed, where Gojo just was and sees a beautiful, intricate metal rose lying on her pillow. She picks it up to examine it closer, adoring the details and also wondering where it came from. “So beautiful…”, she quietly whispers. ‘Who put this here?’, she wonders until she hears Gojo exclaim, “Found it!”, and sets it on the nightstand.

               Gojo walks over to her, glancing over to see what she was holding. ‘Who the fuck is that from?’, he questions internally, further falling into the trap of his own jealousy. He was planning on taking Elska somewhere else but in this moment, he’s felt that he’s had enough and decides their room is as good as any. “My love?”.

               “Yes, my sweet Sati?”, she bites her lip into a smile as he closes the distance between them, bending down to bring their lips together.

               “I was hoping for some additional good luck but that would be like obtaining a charm you see…”, he pecks her on the lips, loving how she’s staring into him with her arms draped around his neck. She asks inquisitively, “Ok but what do I have to do with this?”, to which he immediately says, “Everything.”. He slides a hand into his pocket and pulls out a wadded lingerie lace teddy with matching panties, the bright blue being the same as his clan colors, with a darker blue lining the trim and details. “Put this on for me?”, he gets excited when she agrees and begins to undo her obi once reaching behind her.

               After some curious laughs, Elska says, “I have no idea where you are going with this but…”, she cups the right side of his cheek with her hand, “…whatever makes you happy. Your happiness does matter to me Sati.”. He smiles through his eyes to her words, her noticing them becoming a brighter blue after she said that. Once she is free of the obi, she takes off the robes and sets them neatly aside.

               Seeing her handle the Titer wear consciously rubs him the wrong way. ‘Am I overthinking this?’, he asks himself while on the thought of Suguru. ‘She wouldn’t actually go for him, no matter what…right?’, insecurities over the situation begin to eat at him until he’s snapped back into reality by Elska’s touch. He hears her ask, “Do you not like it!?”, but vigorously shakes his head yes as his eyes feast upon her in the see-through ensemble that practically screams his clan’s name. ‘With a slight Zenin flare…’. He grabs the back of her head with his left hand, steadying her for an impactful kiss, while reaching down with his right, rubbing her through the lace panties. She gasps to his ministrations, exciting him thoroughly as he basks in her delectable sounds. He can already feel her moistness through the fabric but continues to rub her deeper through them.

               Through heavy breaths she asks, “Are they in your way?”, and reaches to lower them towards the floor. He stops her hands before she could remove them though and looks up with confusion. “Sati?”.

               He kisses her cheek and gently backs her into the bed, lowering her down carefully. “No, my love, I want them messy.”, and proceeds to push two fingers into her, stretching the cloth forcibly as it rests inside of her. He rubs larger than normal circles, daring his digits to slip into her while she squirms on the mattress. “Now for this…”. Gojo removes the small pink mouse from his pocket and switches it on, the vibrator purring in his grasp. “Open your legs for me love...”, he seductively commands while grabbing himself through his pants, already throbbing. When she does, he removes his hand from between her legs and puts those same two fingers into her mouth, simultaneously aiming the vibrator with her clitoris.

               Elska sucks on his fingers and plays against them with her tongue as he aligns his weapon perfectly to her weakest spot. The whimpers erupt instantly as the sensation travels over her, as if his current demeanor isn’t enough to leave her begging for more. His heavy half-lidded gaze follows her every move and is somehow matched with the sweetest and tiniest grin. Every so often he rubs the vibrator into her entrance and she’s made to feel the coolness of her own arousal as it soaks into the panties.

               “Such a good girl…”, he coos, feeling how wet everything now is. “My sexy little Elska…”. He sees her reactions becoming more prominent, her breaths becoming progressively labored. “That’s right love, cum for me.”, he encourages, thinking his length just might burst through his pants. He brings one of her legs up, resting it against his chest and shoulder. Hearing her unobstructed cries makes him grind his bulge into the meat of her thigh, needing to feel some form of friction and shivering when he does. While biting his lip, he leans his body over hers to meet tongues and continues to slowly dry hump her leg. As she lies there with parted lips and needing eyes, he trails 3 soft kisses across her cheek. He misses this, the lust and love they would share and relish with each other. His mood is negatively impacted by the realization that the days of it being just the two of them, together are gone. Now kissing the crook of her neck, he releases a slightly hateful chuckle and sits up between her legs to peer down and ask, “My love? You do remember that you are mine, right?”.

               Elska is startled by his instantaneous switch and can tell by the tone in his voice that he’s actually pissed off. She tries to sit up to address the situation but Satoru places his hand on her chest and directs her to lie back down, so she does. Seconds later, she’s forced to cry out as the vibrations consume her attention.

               “Right love?”, Gojo experiences a sadistic wave rushing through his body as her face explains her concerns for his brashness. He pulls down the front of his pants, exposing his throbbing member before pressing it against the fabric blocking her opening. He switches to holding the vibrator with his left hand while using his right to drag his flesh across her bare areas. He shoots her wild eyes, still waiting for her response but before he could narrow his eyes any further, she finally whimpers, “Yes Sati.”. A smile breaks over his mouth after hearing her confirmation. Leaning his hips into her now, he too undergoes the vibrations but is more occupied by how his skin sticks to hers in a tacky way. As her moans return, he tells her, “I’ve accepted little Naoya and your beloved Toji…”, as he begins to prod his way past the pretty laced underwear. “…But love, I will not do the same for Choso or Getou.”. His tip pushes through, the slick dousing his head in her physical affection, causing him to throw his head back.

               “What are yo-“., but her mouth is covered, erasing her question. She recognizes this side of him but still is never able to predict what his next move will be. He increases the intensity of the vibrator, making her squirm while the first inches of him rest inside of her. ‘What is he doing?’, she wonders as she can’t recall the last time he played with her this deviously.

               “I don’t want to hear your excuses my love, I know you’re curious about them both.”, he seethes while working his hips at the same speed as molasses pours, not having finished making his point. “If I find out either of them have touched you in anyway, I will kill them without a second thought.”, he moves his hand from her mouth to her throat, lightly applying pressure. “You are mine.”. He now nudges himself a little deeper into her, eating up the hesitancy she’s expressing while taking him in. “Mmmmm…”, he groans to her gasps and looses his train of thought as she begins to contract around him. “Yes love…fuck…”, he pants out, pulling out of her completely after she finishes her twitching to caringly pull the panties down her legs. He holds them up in his right hand and dangles them over her, “These will be my new good luck charm.”, and places them down on the edge of the bed where they will not be disturbed. Her face says she finds that strange but her body language gives the subtle hints he needed to know that she actually loves his obsession with her.

               “What has gotten into you Sati?”, she asks wholeheartedly, wanting to understand why he’d go so far as to threaten killing Choso at least. When he sends her a glare, she understands it was a stupid question and darts her eyes to bed. “I’m sorry Sati, I don’t know why I did it…I just had to…”.

               “You turned Choso, let’s just say it as it is love, because a part of you wants his dick inside of you as well. Do not deny it for I have seen it with my own six eyes.”, he found his own words to be hilarious but appreciated the fact that she was clearly not taking him lightly. “They seem to have a hard time knowing their place…those two…”, Gojo now looks over her exposed lower half and reaches to yank down the front of the teddy to see her breasts. He hovers his face over them, attending to her hardened nipples before licking between them, drawing a track until he meets with her chin, “Perhaps I should fuck you in front of both of them so they understand…”. He catches a fleeting expression of hers that sends a rush of longing through his own being as well. “You would like that wouldn’t you love?”, he asks with designing eyes and a grin, smacking her ass to be playful as he comprehends his own natural affinity to a scenario like that.

               “No! No I wouldn’t!”, she defensively states, “But I know you would!”, finding relief in the way his mood lightened a bit. He rolls her to her right side and lies down behind her. She whines wantonly as he pulls back at her hips and rubs himself in to her, twisting herself in a way where she can still see him too.

He bends his neck down to connect their lips, but whispers into her mouth while aligning his erection to her folds, “Just imagine it love…they’re both right there, watching.”, and begins to work his hips, “They’re watching me fill you…”. He hisses when she clenches around him, that reaction telling him he was right about her being turned on by the idea. “They want to see you take this dick, they’re staring at how you’re being spread…”.

Elska doesn’t understand why but as she falls under Satoru’s sexual hypnosis, she admits to herself how exciting his behavior is. Through some much-antagonized gasps she asks, “Do they like seeing you dominate me Sati?”, but counters her words by throwing her rear into him, finally feeling the totality of his length. She cries out to the sensation of being full and pulls his face down to be as close to him as possible. He grabs her hip roughly and proceeds to thrust through her all while keeping his eyes locked to hers as they glow.

“I think they love seeing you like this, weak in my grasp…submissive to my desires…”, he tells her while adoring the way her breast bounce from his impacts. The gushing sounds from his efforts soothe his soul, knowing that she can be as twisted as himself. “You’re practically dripping my love.”, he announces while admiring how he’s sloshing through her. His gaze now meets her open mouth which beckons him to shove his fingers down her throat again but this time, purposefully gagging her. When she recovers and sucks them versus moving her head back, he applauds her with praise. “A naughty princess indeed…”, he moans seductively into her ear. He lifts her leg into the air, “So they can see everything.”, and nearly loses his breath when she cries his name and beings to play with herself. “Shit…”, he doubles over her, his muscles burning from his increased rhythm, unable to contain himself as she furrows her brow and pleasurably stares into his eyes through her batting lashes. A wave of pheromones strike his lungs and he allows the full effects to take as he embraces the chemical frenzy that it sends him into. “You…are…MINE!”, he forces out through shallow breaths, clinging to her as his animalism unhinges his restraint, continuously plowing into her while she grips him and experiences another orgasm.

She’s completely at Satoru’s mercy as he takes and reclaims her. “S-so good!”, she cries, “Fuck me Sati…Fuck me!”. She starts throwing her hips into him aggressively as they wrestle with who can connect the hardest. She reaches up and tugs his face down by his hair once more, which seems to provoke him even further. Her right leg that he was holding in the air now gets bent towards her chest and pressed into the bed as he snakes a knee behind it to keep her in the position.

               After repositioning over her, he uses his strength to push down on the mattress repeatedly which moves Elska underneath him. They moan together at the efficiency of this play as his length is flung around by the rapidity, bringing him closer to his own high than he would like. He pants to her, “I want you to swallow it love...”, and then quickly warps to being by her head as soon as she smiles in response. When her mouth opens, he sticks himself halfway down, while leaving himself some to jerk as well. Almost immediately, he’s moaning loudly as the sweet release passes through him and into Elska. He interlocks his fingers into her hair and dips her head back as his body shudders wonderfully to the visual stimulation of her receiving every drop happily, some escaping down the corner of her lips. Gojo takes an extended moment to shake off the chills he experiences from how satisfying that whole session was. He uses his thumb to wipe away the spillage from her face but instantly kisses her as the last moans leave him.                

               When he pulls away and is back to sitting up, she rests her head on his thighs, heaving in air as she collects herself. “Sati…that was really sexy.”, she nuzzles her face into him, “All of it!”, and giggles into a squeal upon recalling their weird little shared fantasy. He laughs with her but sighs deeply. Before she can turn her head to see him though, she feels his fingertips running through her hair and sighs as well, enjoying this rare moment that feels as uncomplicated as their love was prior to Satoru being sealed. “So much has happened Sati…but I will never love you any less, no matter what.”.

               “Not even in exchange for a king?”, her words brought him to a genuine smile but he allowed his insecurities to get the best of him, turning his head. ‘What if it all comes back to her?’, secretly praying that Genghis was wrong about Suguru being able to help her sort out what she’s forgotten.

               Elska successfully props herself up this time, sitting on her knees as well in front of Satoru. “You are not exchangeable or replaceable Sati…”, and uses a gentle touch to redirect his head back towards her. “Not for a king, not for a clan…not for this entire world.”. She can tell he took it to heart by the way his eyes softened. She runs her fingers through his hair and places small kisses all over his face until he kicks his pouty mood for laughter.

               Gojo sighs again but embraces her, “My one and only love.”. He smiles widely upon the rekindling to their original flame but adds, “I know you have to let Choso have his way once…but no more after that love. I’m very serious about him and Getou…”. She pulls away from his grasp and wonders if she’s catching an attitude about it but is surprised when he sees a playful expression instead.

               “Like I could even have time to! Seriously, between you, Toji and Naoya lately, I hardly get a break!”, they chuckle together as they both seem to call upon individual recent instances that supply veracity to her statement.

               “Yeah, I guess that’s probably true…but I’m not sorry for it!”, he puts his hands up to block before the pillow she grabbed could reach his face. “Love…I am the strongest, your pillow attacks will do nothing.”. He thinks to keep her here forever, wanting to still this moment in time indefinitely as it has been far too long since he felt this close to her. The simplicity of their connection and the complexity of their love has always wooed him beyond measure, he feels she is undoubtedly the best thing that has ever happened to him.  “Love there’s one more thing.”, when she asks, “What is it my sweet Sati?”, he responds with, “You should turn me soon too.”.

               Elska takes a deep breath but considers his request heavily. The hesitation she demonstrates causes him to retract his confidence so to clear her silence up she says, “I want to make sure it won’t cause you harm first. I need to be sure that’ll you’ll be ok afterwards.”. He looks confused by this so she continues with, “Sati, you’re a very unique man with atypical personality traits.”, she squints her eyes and they both laugh to her sugar-coated description of his frightening tendencies. “In all seriousness though, I otherwise have no objections if its something you truly want. You’re my first love and you better than anyone else could understand what being like me would mean as far as lifestyle.”.

               Satoru expected her to shoot him down but finds her unprecedented reaction to be rather uplifting. Thinking about her saying, “first love”, he hides his disappointment to the knowledge that her and the king were definitely in love with each other, ‘She just doesn’t remember…’. He understands in this moment how firmly she feels about him though and compares it to the guilt she’s expressed over having turned the others in the past. “It is what I want love. I’ve sat back and watched everyone else be bitten without specific resentment until recently.”. He shifts his eyes to the left and proceeds to say, “The Choso thing…that really bugs me love. I could see it coming from a mile away, the way you two have grown on each other…”.

               “I am so sorry that I turned him, Sati…I wish I could take it back.”, Elska now thinks about Naoya and Toji. She knows Naoya’s stance on the issue is similar if not more outstanding than Gojo’s but she has no idea how Toji is taking this. ‘Especially after Sachiko…’, she thinks and becomes mortified with herself as the full bearing of her decisions once again threatens to crush her into nothing. “Sati?”, she asks quietly, “How can you still love me?”.

               Gojo feels his brain misfire to her question, not comprehending how she could not understand. He lifts her chin until her eyes meet his, “Elska, ever since I first saw you through the Titer’s technique, I knew you were the one for me.”, he grazes her lips with his thumb and studies her unconvinced expression. “Not a day has passed since where that thought didn’t occupy my mind. I always say I’m lucky but it’s because you make me feel that way. You are what makes me luckiest, the strongest…”, he smiles now bashfully, “…Even the sweetest.”. When she tears up, he wipes them away before they even have a chance to leave her eyes. “You made me want to be a better man. A man driven by more than power, boredom or horrors.”. He now leans in to kiss her, resting his lips against hers for an extended period before sighing into her and defeatedly saying, “I told them I would have you back sooner than this…”, the words lingering in the air as he reluctantly draws a curtain on their time of wonderment.

               Elska releases a mixture of a cry and laughter, “Poor Naoya, he is going to be so irritated!”. She perceives Satoru motioning to carry her again but she stops him and says, “Lets grab some clothes while we’re here!”, and grins when he eagerly agrees. She thinks about training clothes, sleepwear and undies. When the last word hits her thoughts though she turns around to see Gojo having just finished pulling up his club sweats and reach over to put the lace pair inside his pocket. She giggles quietly while grabbing the garments she decided on, “I can’t believe you’re really going to hold onto those! They’re gross now Sati!”.

               Satoru scoffs as he pulls out bunches of apparel that belong to Toji, stumbling upon the roughed-up set of Zenin blue robes. “They are not gross, they are exactly the way I wanted them to be!”, and cackles to her display of questioning his preferences. ‘Naoya would probably like to have his own robes at least.’, picking them up and setting everything down in search for a pen and paper.

               Elska watches him gather the writing supplies and curiously peers over at him while hanging her bundle off her hip. “What are doing over there?”, she asks while beginning to help gather what he set down.

               “Just leaving a note for Nanami. He’ll worry if I’m not here to bring the bromance so I figured to give him an update. I’ll tell him you said hi!”. Once finished, he walks to the bedroom door and opens it enough to slip the paper through the crack for it to be noticeable from the hallway. He beams as he nears Elska again, her patiently gazing at him as he approaches. After side stepping to grab a few more clothes from himself and another lace set for her, he scoops up the bit she accumulated so she didn’t have to carry much. He wraps his arm around her waist and exhales dramatically, “Alriiight my love, let’s go back.”, and then warp out of the room back to the Titer compound.

Next Chapter >>

Chapter List

Tagging: @angelofthorr @syynnaaah @animemenrbettr @itstackytime

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk au #jjk smut #Enemies to lovers #Satoru Gojo #Toji Fushiguro #Naoya Zenin #Suguru Geto #Choso #Master Genghis oc #Elska oda #Gojo smut #Toji smut #Suguru smut #Choso smut #Gojo fluff #Naoya x reader #gojo x reader #Satoru x reader #Toji x reader #Choso x reader #geto x reader #Geto Suguru #minors dni #gojo jealous #jjk fluff #Titer clan

[louiehrry]

sabe aquela trend do "SHUT UP MOM" do Tik Tok? Então, faz um assim só que a Darcy e a essieni não estão gravando e eles zoam o Harry, daí ele briga com a Darcy atoa? ISSO TAVA NA MINHA CABEÇA A DIAS E EU TAVA ME ROENDO PRA PEDIR KKJKKKKKJKKKJKL

oioi mariazinha, obrigada pelo pedido! espero que vc goste e boa leitura. 💜

nota da autora: e a darcy ataca novamente, eu não consigo escrever outro nome, sem ela não é um imagine completo. e sempre que é outro nome, eu leio com darcy. então, me desculpem e obrigada por pedir com o nome darcy.

SHUT UP, MOM

S/N rolava a for you de um dos aplicativos mais usados pelos jovens. Ela não estava com tanta fé quando baixou o aplicativo, mas Darcy havia implorado para poder ver vídeos. Diz a garotinha que conheceu o aplicativo pelos vídeos do YouTube.

O problema era que agora o aplicativo acabou tornando-se o novo vício de S/N. Não era tão ruim quanto ela pensava. Era um passatempo divertido.

Um vídeo interessou ela, pelo que parecia era uma trend, S/N não sabe muito disso mas era algo legal. Era uma pegadinha em que o filho fala “shut up mom”, ou seja, cala boca mãe e o pai fica bravo pelo desrespeito.

S/N sentiu uma grande vontade de fazer, seria hilário ver a cara de Harry. Darcy brincava com suas aquarelas na mesa de desenho, em frente a S/N. Ela não queria incomodar a garotinha de 7 anos, mas talvez ela também gostasse da ideia. 

Claro, S/N não gravaria para terem privacidade da brincadeira e Harry tem uma visão boa para achar câmeras. Gravação estava longe do planejado. Precisava parecer real.

— Darcy, ei! — a menina olhou para a mãe. — Acabei de ver um vídeo no TikTok, era uma trollagem em que o filho manda a mãe calar a boca e o pai escuta, ficando muito bravo. — Darcy prestava atenção na explicação, ela estava adorando esse lado da sua mãe. — Podemos fazer com seu pai? Não iremos gravar, apenas quero ver a reação dele. 

— Sim! — Darcy exclamou animada. 

— Certo. Seu pai está na sala de trabalho, assim que ele sair, peço para você guardar seus brinquedos e você manda eu ficar quieta. 

Darcy concordou, mas ela sabia que seu pai odeia quando sua mãe fala palavrão na frente dela e S/N parecia uma criança, animação não faltava. 

— Vamos testar seu "cala a boca, mãe" — S/N disse. — Fale agora, mas baixo para ele... — apontou o dedo para o andar de cima — não escutar.

— Cala a boca, mãe. — encarou S/N com as sobrancelhas juntas, logo depois colocou a mão na boca dando risada.

— Shh... Isso foi bom, já pensou em ser atriz quando crescer? — S/N brincou com a menor.

— Vou poder aparecer no cinema com você e com o papai? Eu queria muito aparecer. — Darcy sorriu.

— Claro. Volte a brincar, irei avisar você quando ele estiver descendo.

Não demorou muito para escutarem os passos de Harry descendo da escada de madeira. O mesmo descia despreocupado, querendo juntar-se com suas garotas, assistir um desenho com sua garotinha e abraçar sua mulher.

— É ele. — sussurrou S/N, e Darcy preparou-se para começar a melhor atuação de sua vida.

S/N levantou do sofá, indo para onde encontrava-se os brinquedos de Darcy, espalhados no chão da sala ao lado.

— Darcy, venha guardar seus brinquedos agora! Isso está uma bagunça e eu não irei arrumar por você. — ela gritou, fazendo Harry levar um susto já que a casa estava silenciosa a minutos atrás. — É sua obrigação guardar pelo menos os seus brinquedos. 

Harry parou em frente a Darcy, mesmo distante levantou a sobrancelha para ela sem entender nada e Darcy segurava a risada.

— Cala a boca, mãe! — Darcy berrou assim que S/N botou o pé na sala, e Harry a olhou fixamente.

— O que disse, Darcy? — Harry perguntou bravo. — Nem precisa repetir, isso é uma falta de respeito com sua mãe. Nunca mais repita essa frase, ela está sempre ajudando você com tudo, ela brinca com você, mesmo quando precisa trabalhar e cuida de você como ninguém. — ele franziu a testa, nada satisfeito com a atitude dela. — Não estou feliz com sua atitude, e você está de castigo, não iremos assistir desenho juntos.

Ela sabia que era brincadeira, mas seu pai não, esse seria o pior castigo do mundo. Harry retirou-se da sala, voltando para o andar de cima, e S/N olhou para Darcy preocupada.

— Mãe, eu não quero ficar sem assistir desenho com ele. — Darcy estava com o semblante triste.

— Fique calma, você não vai ficar sem. — S/N tentou aliviar sua preocupação. — Que tal você fazer uma cartinha explicando a brincadeira e pedindo desculpa? Ele vai entender. — a mulher sugeriu, Darcy mexeu a cabeça concordando. — Quer usar aquelas canetinhas coloridas? Podemos usar fitas também.

— Pode ser. — a filha ainda estava descontente, e S/N entendia. 

Elas não imaginavam que a brincadeira seria tão grave, e S/N sentiu-se um pouco culpada por dar a ideia.

— Você consegue escrever tudo sozinha né? — S/N indagou, novamente Darcy concordou. — Vou deixar você sozinha para escrever o que quiser.

A mãe da garotinha saiu da sala, e Darcy voltou para a mesa de desenho. Olhou para o papel, tinha suas canetinhas, seus gizes de cor e seus lápis na mesa. Ela precisa ser sincera com seu pai, pensou.

“Oi pai, me desculpa pelo que fiz. Foi brincadeira e eu nunca quis desrespeitar minha mãe.

E quem teve a ideia foi minha mãe, então deixe ela de castigo, não eu por favor.

Não quero ficar sem assistir desenho com você e eu te amo muito.”

Com a cartinha pronta, Darcy bateu na porta do quarto dos pais. 

— Pode entrar. — Harry avisou.

— Pai, é para você. — ela entrou, encontrando o pai deitado na cama e esticou o braço entregando para Harry, ele desconfiou de primeira mas pegou. 

O homem conferiu o papel, abriu a carta e leu o que havia escrito. Harry estava feliz pela nova atitude da menininha e Darcy não aguenta mais esperar pela resposta.

— Você está desculpada e me desculpe por gritar com você. Mas faça um favor para mim, chame sua mãe, quero conversar com ela. — Darcy saiu do quarto rapidamente indo chamar S/N.

— Mãe! Vem aqui, meu pai 'tá chamando você. 

S/N subiu a escada da mansão. A casa é espaçosa, a decoração é aconchegante e tem alguns quadros com as artes de fãs e fotos de viagens espalhadas pela casa. Darcy passou voando pelas escadas e S/N só viu a ponta do cabelo de cachinhos dela, quando ela pensou em mandar a menina tomar cuidado já era tarde demais, e a garotinha já estava fora de sua vista e não poderia escutar.

— Estou aqui. Queria algo? 

— Sente-se aqui S/N. — Harry bateu a mão na ponta da cama, indicando onde ela deveria ficar. E S/N se sentou em silêncio. — Eu não quero nada... Na verdade, quero sim. Quero saber o porquê que você deu essa ideia para Darcy e por que eu deveria deixar você de castigo?  

A mulher virou-se para Darcy que estava no canto do quarto, escutando o que Harry falava.

— Você escreveu isso naquele papel? — S/N perguntou surpresa por ela dedurar e Darcy balançou a cabeça em um "Sim". — Você é uma dedo duro! 

Darcy olhou confusa por ouvir sua mãe falar em português, Harry encarou ela sem entender a palavra final. 

A garotinha sabe pouco do português, S/N ainda quer ensinar mais e Harry acha que será importante ela aprender para se comunicar com seus avós, primos e parentes brasileiros. Além das usadas no show do Brasil, Harry aprendeu algumas palavras novas e foi graças a família de S/N que ligam para ela em chamada de vídeo, e o mesmo escuta tudo. O sotaque de Harry é forte, ainda, mas S/N fica orgulhoso e feliz por ele querer aprender um idioma novo, seu idioma nativo.

— Isso é nome de facção? Repita e fale o significado. — S/N gargalhou quando escutou seu marido falar sobre gangue.

— Não! É quando alguém trai a confiança, e Darcy fez isso. Era segredo! — ela exclamou.

— Podemos voltar ao assunto anterior? 

— Podemos Harry. Respondendo suas perguntas, eu achei que fosse legal saber sua reação e não sei porque devo ficar de castigo. — S/N deu um sorriso fofo para ele, e Harry queria apertar todo o rosto da esposa.

— Por favor, não me olhe com esse sorriso. Eu sei que isso faz parte do seu plano, S/N. — tampou os olhos com a mão e escutaram a gargalhada alta da menor ainda no canto do quarto, sentada no chão quentinho.

— Venha para cá, Darcy. Vamos assistir seu desenho. — a mulher disse deitando na cama, Harry foi para baixo das cobertas e Darcy correu para o meio da cama de seus pais, deitando no peito de Harry. 

S/N ama ver a relação deles, e a cena era pura fofura e amor para ela. E com certeza, Harry não queria mais nada depois de ficar agarradinho na filha. Suas duas garotas estão ali e isso o deixa realizado.

#harry styles #1d imagines #fanfic #fanfiction #imagine harry styles #imagines #harry x reader #harry x y/n #harry x you

[justoneday-namjoonii]

Don’t Breathe | 5.0

»Genre: hitman!au || stalker!au ||

»Warnings: kidnapping, stalking, obsession, themes of borderline Stockholm syndrome and Lima syndrome, brief mono-phobia, mature elements, manhandling, breakdowns, guns, yandere (? i think ), he thinks it’s cute when she cries, eventually they fall in love, Disclaimer: I do not condone nor suggest stalking/kidnapping or anything of that nature, this is pure fiction ok, kidnappers and stalkers DO NOT love you.

»Summary: He doesn’t get shaky hands, he never forgets his gloves and he never leaves a trail. He was paid to get rid of everyone who witnessed the exchange between a gang lord and a politician, they were picked off, one by one. He found out a month later, he missed one. A young writer who attended the event where the exchange took place. He has to kill her. Can he do it?

✤ pt.1 - pt.2 - pt.2.5 - pt.3 - pt. 3.5 - pt. 4.0 - pt. 4.5 - pt. 5.0 - pt.5.5 - pt.6.0

a/n: this is a heavy and wordy chapter so bare with me, we’re almost at the finale!  thank you for reading and i hope u enjoy!💖

taglist: @tangledsparkles @just-another-fangurl21 @impartoftoomanyfandoms​ @komorebi-unnie​ @tangledsparkles​ @yes-sol-not-soul (sorry :( tumblr won’t let me tag you) @sarzkh31​

When you woke up this morning, you felt nauseous, sick to your stomach. Last night, while you were sleeping, he packed up some basic necessities and put them in his car. He said Yeosang would be by soon to officialese everything and that you could relax until then. But you can’t, you’re head hurts so bad, you want to throw up. 

 “I was in the other room but I didn’t hear you get up, I would’ve made you breakfast,” Taehyung leans against the bathroom door frame and watches you, you’re dressed and he’s wondering how he missed you waking up and showering. You’re busy brushing your teeth, still wanting to pass out from how bad your headache is, but you decide against it. 

“Did you sleep well?” You nod, spitting in the sink with the running water. He tilts his head, already picking up on your change in demeanor. Taking a step towards you, he lifts your chin to get you to look him in the eye, “Hey, I know that face, look at me,” Concern coats his expression and you will yourself to finally look at him, “what’s wrong?” 

“I’m just- I don’t know, I’m nervous about all of this,” You walk past him into the bedroom, the beautiful bedroom you’ll probably never get to share with him again, “what if things don’t work out? What if your friend can’t help us, then what?” You sit on the edge of the bed, hugging yourself at the thought, the terror you would endure if this all went south. “I’m scared, I have this bad feeling, it’s making me really uneasy...” 

“I know,” Taehyung can’t say he’s never had those thoughts, it plagues his mind too. The thought of no longer having the comfort of each other, the joy in your smiles and laughter being taken, it’s scary. Kneeling in front of you, he takes your hands into his with a light squeeze.

“I know it’s scary, and we’re taking a huge risk,” He tilts his head, puppy-dog eyes peering into your weary ones, “but I promise, I’m doing what’s best to keep us safe and together, alright baby?” He caresses the side of your face with the back of his hand, but the affection makes you pout rather than feel better. 

“Hey, and guess what? Once this is all over, we’ll be shopping at local markets to buy fresh produce for us to cook with,” He smiles, trying to lighten up your mood with the dreamy idea, “we can paint whatever we can get our hands on, with whatever paint you want, you can write stories and poems during picnics, we could do whatever your heart desires, we’ll have a new life together,” He thumbs at the backs of your hands, tugging at your heartstrings to get you to smile. “I’ll even get you a puppy if you want one, doesn’t that sound perfect?” 

You can’t help but form a little grin at the thought. “It does...” 

“That’s what’s waiting for us bunny, we just have to wait for a little while,” He sits up to cup the back of your neck and places a firm kiss on your lips, so soft and warm but short-lived when he pulls away, “so give me a little smile, please?” You oblige, smiling down at him and he pinches your chin with a giggle.

"There you go, that’s my sweet girl,” He stands up and takes you with him, arms wrapped just at your thighs to keep you above ground, “why don’t you go get a few paintings to take with you, while I pack up a few things, and you can wear my favorite bracelet for good luck,” 

”Pack?” You sigh, feet hitting the ground when he let’s you go. He slips off the black threaded bracelet and tightens it around your wrist with a smile. “Do you want me to help-” 

“You go, I got it,” He holds your head in his hands and kisses between your brows with an audible smooch which made you laugh, “go on.”

With a pat on your butt, you’re making your way out of the bedroom and down to the basement. When you get down there, you realize the number of paintings you have. There are about ten to fifteen finished paintings and the others are unfinished. The little story that’s being written is illustrated in this painting, wonder and lover is illustrated in these paintings. In your attempt to pick a few, you notice the little cushion he got for you months ago. Sometimes, it doesn’t even register to you that once you were stuck down here, fighting and dying to leave this place. Now you’re almost in tears at the thought of having to leave. 

But you’re new life is ahead of you, you should be happy.

Leu is facing a political nightmare, there’s a chance he won’t recover from this. Scandals happen all the time, affairs, bribery, on rare occasions, perjury. But seldom is a man of his prowess busted for abetting in multiple murders. There’s no coming back from this. He’s been tracking the phone for a few weeks, and only recently did he realize it was active recently. He completely missed it. When he arrived at the police station, he gave one of the detectives the phone number to hopefully track. He’s been waiting in a room filled with computers and busy interns, just waiting for results. When he considers leaving the room for another bland coffee, he gets a phone call. Looking down at the screen, he sees who it is and decides to answer it.

Yoongi dismisses himself and steps into the hall, “Hello?”

“Jin told me you all found the person who hired the group that killed all those people and took Y/n, is that true?” She sounds hopeful.

“We found him. I can’t reveal too much but we’re hammering down on the search, trying to track the location of the cellphone.”

“I hope she’s okay,” Her voice falters a bit, “there are some sick people out there, I just pray she’s not with one of them.”

He has to cut the call short when one of the tech people waves aggressively to get his attention.

“We just got a location,” The woman beckons him back into the room, “it’s about an hour and a half away from here, in what looks like one of the upper-class neighborhoods on the east-side.”

Yoongi walks over to the computer, eyes skimming over the estimated location of the cellphone. “The phone was traced to that location?”

He’s surprised that your phone would be in such a nice area, but then again he knows what the Hwan Group has been rumored to do. They’ve sold they’re victims to high-paying old men and women who’re looking to fulfill their sick desires in innocent people. It’s repulsive. He can’t help the churn he feels in his stomach when the thought of a person being used like that crosses his mind. In his career in the FBI and even as a PI now, he’s seen some shit. And no matter how many times he’s walked in on dead bodies, shackled victims, bloodied crime scenes, seeing people mistreated makes him sick. But what keeps him doing this is the chance, the small but promising chance that the victim might be alive.

“How long was it on?”

“Not sure, but it was turned on about 2 hours ago and then shut off, must’ve died,” She types a string of letters and another tab pops up, “this is the address.” Promptly, the printer in the corner of the room spits out the paper with the address and she rolls her chair over to it.

“If she’s anywhere, here is your best bet.”

*

*

The room is filled with men in black gear, heavy leather boots, and guns on their hips. When Minho gives the word, they all pile into the van and Minho gets in the backseat of his car—he tells the driver to wait before pulling out. 

“Shit,” He lets out a deep sigh, dress-shirt feeling too tight on his neck. “he brought this on his self, he brought this on his damn self and he didn’t give me any other choice, right?”

Jimin sits beside him, nodding his head in agreement. “Absolutely, he can’t blame you for this, he knows the price of the job,” 

“Doesn’t make it any easier, out of everyone, he was the last person I thought would pull something like this, I still don’t fully believe it-”

“Well,” Jimin interjects, making a thoughtful expression, “maybe he did kill the target and he’s just being hush-hush about it, the girl could’ve put up a fight or- I don’t know, anything could have happened.”

“Maybe,” He takes out his phone, pressing a contact, “but I’m going to give him one more chance,” Waiting for a few seconds, deep down inside he hopes Taehyung will answer. Sadly, the call goes to voicemail and he sets the phone down and sighs, there’s nothing else he can do.

“He didn’t answer, he’s buying time,” Jimin confirms the inevitable, “he knows what he’s doing, it’s best we confront him now.”

Minho pats the back of the driver's chair. “Go ahead.”

He was plundering through the drawers when he found your cellphone stacked on a small pile of books. Assuming he’d be able to wipe it, he tucked is into the little bag along with a few of the books he knew you liked to read. Packing up this stuff reminds him of the night he took you from your house, the night that changed his life. It had been after so much time watching you, learning our lifestyle. He knows now that if he had a chance to learn all of that about you in a different circumstance, like as friend that would slowly morph into something more, he’d take that chance.

The buzzing of his phone pulls him from his thoughts, thinking it was Minho again, he was about to ignore it, but he peeks at the screen to see that it’s Yeosang. Quickly, he answers the call and presses the phone to his ear. 

“Hey, I’ve got some good news and some bad news. Good news, the condo is in your name and ready to go. The bad news is, the flights have been delayed due to bad weather, it’s about a 2-hour delay, could be more.”

“Shit, that would happen,” Taehyung presses his temples, “how close are you?’

“About 45 minutes? Something like that. Do you want me to get her to the airport and you drive separately or do you want me to-”

“If you pick her up that’ll be fine but I was hoping for both of us to get out of here sooner than that,” He zips up the backpack and leaves the room with the flick of the light, “Minho tried to call me and I didn’t answer, he knows something,”

“I want to help you guys,” Yeosang stresses, “maybe you could drive all the way and take a flight from a city further down.”

“That might work if I leave right now,” Taehyung mentally flips through his options and the possibilities are starting to grow slimmer in his mind, “you know what, listen out for me, I need to get her ready. I’ll call you back when we’re in route.” 

Taking the little bag with him, he goes downstairs and searches for his computer, but he realizes it’s packed away. He was going to see if there were any loose strings that he might now have noticed. 

That’s when he hears a heavy knock on the door. He stands frozen, waiting for a second knock. There is a second knock and a booming voice from the other side.

“Kim! I know you’re in there.”

it’s too late, he’s here. Without a second to lose, he runs down to the basement where you’re peacefully admiring your first painting. 

All of a sudden, he hugs you and the painting falls from your grasp, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, he’s here,” He goes to turn off the light and you pick up the painting down to put it back, barely registering what he’s saying, “you need to hide while I buy us some time.”

“Wha- What? No, I want to stay with you,” Your hands are shaking and you feel like you’re getting that sick feeling again—this can’t be happening. “Tae, don’t leave me, what if something happens to you?-”

“Shh, it’ll be okay, I need you to hide under here,” He guides you over to the tiny space under the staircase, gesturing for you to kneel down. You do as he says and he kneels in front of you, every fiber in his body telling him to stay by your side, but he knows he can’t. He holds you in a warm embrace as if it was the last time, he always does it like it’s the last time. “It’s okay, just stay here.”

With that, you’re left in the pitch-black basement, curled up under the stairs, and wishing this was all just a bad dream. But the sound of the front door opening gives you the confirmation that this is your worst nightmare coming to life.

He opened the door a few minutes ago, Minho and Jimin had pushed past him to get inside, about ten suited-up guys follow and the door slammed on there way in. With little struggle, they had Taehyung sit on the couch while Minho paced in front of him as his team tears the place apart.

“I didn’t want to do this to you.” That’s the first thing Minho says.

“I can see that,” Tae responds plainly.

“You brought this upon yourself you know,” Minho stands in front of him, hands in his pockets with a cold glare on his face, “whatever the hell you were trying to do, it’s over now.”

Taehyung stays quiet, pissing Minho off even more.

“Do you know what you’ve done to this organization? We’re on the radar because you took that woman. Now the cops are involved, they’re onto us and they won’t stop until they find her. Why choose to go rogue now? Your contract ends in a year and you decide to spend it ruining your reputation? Out of everyone in the company, you were the last person I thought I’d have to worry about, you were my absolute best, and now that’s all gone to hell,” He bites his bottom-lip, getting impatient with Taehyung’s unchanging demeanor, “do you even care?”

He just stares at him blankly.

“Nothing upstairs,” About three guys come from downstairs.

“Downstairs is clear,” The others emerge from the other parts of the house, also empty-handed, "no signs of a body or that anyone else was living here sir-”

“Check again!” Minho snaps, kicking the coffee table across the room with a loud curse, “Look outside, tear the damn place apart if you have to, she has to be somewhere.”

He goes on and on, going red in the face he’s so livid, Taehyung was his favorite. The fussing becomes a bit repetitive to Jimin, so he decides to go off and do his own search, that’s when Tae gets truly nervous for the first time, Jimin has a knack for finding the unsuspecting.

*

Footsteps can be heard throughout the entire house. You only flinch when you hear a loud thump, like a table being thrown or broken against the wall. You brace yourself, placing your hands on your ears until the footsteps cease. You breathe in and out shallowly, trying to listen for Taehyung. You haven’t heard him once, not one sound.

Your heart drops when you hear the high pitched squeak of the basement door opening. Light slips into the darkroom. Heavy footsteps on the stair-well reverberate against your ears.

He’s a painter? He would be, wouldn’t he? A man mumbles to himself. Peeking from behind the wooden beam that’s shielding you, you see a man with shiny black hair looking at your paintings. You close your eyes and cover your mouth, tears pricking at your eyes from the sheer suspense of it all. Your body is shaking, sweating and the need to gasp for more air becomes critical to your sanity. But you hold it in, you block out the rapid heartbeat pounding against your rib-cage.

“Where are you...” He speaks clearer now as if he knows you’re here as if he knows you’re trying to block him out. Eyes squeezed shut, your curl in on yourself, trying so hard not to make a sound. His footsteps become louder, his shadow appears on the wall opposite of you like a lurking monster, seeking to cause you nothing but terror. In contrast, he hums a little song softly.

If you close your eyes, he’ll go away, just close your eyes and he’ll go away. 

“There you are,” You look straight at him and your fight or flight kicks in. You try to make a run for it but he easily grabs you, “hey! Stop- Stop fighting, I’m not gonna hurt you! Calm down-”

You scream but he clamps a hand over your mouth. Squirming violently, you try to bite his hand but he removes it before you can. He fights to drag you upstairs as you cry out for help. “Let go of me!”

When Taehyung hears your cries, all that goes through his mind is that he has to be with you. He darts past Minho to get to you but one of the guys tackle him to the ground. He calls out to you anyway, “I’m here! Y/n, it’s okay,”

Minho’s thrown off by what he thinks is a loving tone, “Keep him down.” He orders the men as he waits for the squealing female to be brought to him.

“Here she is, found her hiding under the staircase,” Jimin emerges with a smile and a red scratch on his brow courtesy of you, “she is very much alive.” He drops you on the ground in front of Minho. On your hands and knees and you look up with weary eyes.

“Oh Taehyung, you’ve been hiding her this entire time, you lied to me,” He kneels in front of your trembling form, head tilted and a hand reaching out to cup your jaw, “she is a pretty little thing, I get it. But if you wanted to keep her, why didn't you just say so? That could have been arranged,” You jerk away, “I just never thought you were the type to want toys like this.”

“That’s not what this is, she’s not a sexual object,” The men pull Tae to his feet and he finally sees you, on the ground, paralyzed with uncertainty, “I’ve been protecting her from you.”

“When have you ever protected a target from me? You take the job, I never force you to take a fucking job, Kim. This is your fault because you missed her and then had to go back to the job, then you watched her for too long and got attached, the very thing I warned you about that when you first joined.” 

You look back at Taehyung, searching for some type of comfort in his eyes, but you’re stalled by the painful sting in your scalp, “Ow!-”

“This woman?” He fists your hair, pulling you to your feet. You grasp his wrist to try to loosen his grip but it only tightens, sending a burn down your back tears to your eyes. It’s deliberate torture for Taehyung to watch because he can’t do anything about it.

“This fucking woman should have been dead, and since you fucked everything up, I have to take care of her myself. But I don’t get it, you’ve killed dozens before, she shouldn’t have been a problem, but you got obsessed and she just had to be yours, didn’t she? That’s pathetic.” He shakes his head, disappointed.

“Do you not remember? You signed the contract for 7 years, you don’t get to experience real love in this job, and you know that better than anyone. How could anyone love you after what you’ve done? You’ve told me that countless times, what’s with the sudden change in heart?”

Taehyung looks away for the first time, it’s all true, when Tae signed the contract, he was sure he’d never have to worry about being attached to anyone. He didn’t love anyone, and no one loved him or ever could, so the job was perfect. No worried messages from a mother, disappointing looks from a father— if he has no one, there’s no one to disappoint, no one to secretly hate him. He ruled out the possibility that someone would ever want to love him, truly love him. Then came you and he loved, he was loved.

“She doesn’t deserve to this, she doesn’t deserve to die. She didn’t do anything wrong,” Taehyung looks into in your eyes, trying to communicate to you, trying to think of a way to get out of here, “I swear, if you touch her-”

“Don’t give me that shit, you’ve killed all kinds of people, good, bad and in between, what makes her any different?-”

His sentence is cut short when Taehyung suddenly jerks against the men holding him and he gets free. He gets a hold of the gun and points it at Minho. Your hair is released but the man now holds you with an arm anchored around your neck.

“Let her go,” Taehyung takes short strides towards you two as the barrel of the gun stays square to Minho’s forehead, “you know I’m a straight shot, I could kill you right now,” He cocks the gun, the action making you shutter, “get your hands off of her.”

“You won’t do it,” Minho is already holding it to your head, arm secured around your neck. “if you kill me, you kill her, that’s not what you want,” He shoves the barrel against your scalp and you bite your lip hard to stop from sobbing. “I will kill her if I have to, then this will all be over. But if you put that gun down, and do exactly what I say, she stays alive, I promise.”

“Tae- Taehyung,” You manage to choke out, clawing at Minho’s arms frantically, “please-” He tightens his grip on your poor neck and that’s when Taehyung raises his hands in surrender and he’s immediately brought to his knees.

“Alright! Just stop, stop! She can’t fucking breathe! Please,” As soon as they take the gun, Minho throws you on the hard floor and you gasp for air, coughing violently as you brace on your hands and knees, “do what you want with me, just don’t hurt her.”

“Huh,” He groans, clicking his teeth in contemplation, “since you are my favorite and you’ll probably never see her again, why don’t you give her some love before you go? I’ll give you that at least.”

Taehyung down looks at you then at Minho. “What?” 

“I’m giving you a chance to say goodbye,” Minho nudges you with his hand, making you flinch, “hurry up before I change my mind.”

The men are still holding him, his arms behind his back. He bites back tears as you sit frozen, mirroring his pained expression. “Y/n, it’s okay,” He calls for you, pulling against the retrains, “come here, baby,” You begin to crawl over to him, but you’re still hesitant to get near the people holding him, “let go! What the fuck do think I’m gonna do?!-”

“Let’m go, he won’t do anything stupid.”

Once he’s freed, he cocoons you in his arms, his body is warm and his energy is calm as he cradles you close. Minho stops to observe a version of Taehyung he has never witnessed before. He’s on his knees, holding you to his chest as you cling to him. Your knuckles must be white from how hard you’re gripping his shirt. Your eyes are squeezed shut, you’re shaking, petrified with the thought of never feeling this again. You can’t live like that, you could die without this. “T-Tae, don’t let them t- take me, don’t let them take me-...” You hiccup through your sobs, holding on to the little bit of affection that might be the last.

“Shh, I’ll fix this,” He whispers just low enough for you to hear, “I promise...”

You feel his hand go to your hair and he pulls your head back to bring your lips to his—you can’t live without this. He parts his lips, kissing you as if you two were the only ones in the room, as if you’re in bed, heart-to-heart, feeling loved. Shamelessly, you push against him for more and you can taste your tears, are those your tears and his tears?

“My God,” Minho tucks the gun back in its holster with a scoff, “from the looks of it, you’d think he actually loves her.” Minho makes a thoughtful expression, smirking down at Tae who’s resting his head on your shoulder as you hold him tight. He signals at Jimin who’s watching the scene with interest, “Okay, that’s enough.”

The embrace is broken when you’re ripped away and Taehyung is tackled to the ground with loud cursing. You let out heartwrenching sobs, eyes glazing over with sheer horror, “No! Please! I’ll do anything, I won’t say anything about this I swear! Just don’t do this, please!”

Minho dismisses you entirely, more interested in Tae’s reaction. “That’s all it takes?” Minho walks over to him, laughing when Jimin and another guy struggling to hold him back, “Years of training and killing, and it only takes her to break you?”

“Go to hell.”

Minho shakes his head with a sigh, pitying him. “Put her in the car.”

Yoongi is in the car with two other officers ready to give the signal any time now. He knows something is going on but whatever happens, he’s determined to get you home safe. When he looks into the house from the car he sees a shadow pass the front window.

He holds the button on the com. “We’re moving in now.”

*

It was a blur when it all happened. You were crying and being dragged away from when the door burst open. Officers stormed the house. Guns go off and your ears ring painfully. They rush in and so many people are everywhere—your oasis, your little paradise is being made a battleground. You cry when the man holding you bumped into a vase and drops you near it. He flees out the back door, but you’re frozen, everything is in disarray but the one person you do see is Taehyung who’s being handcuffed along with so many others. He mouths something but you can’t make it out. He shakes his head, you don’t know what he’s saying, what is he trying to say? 

“I’ve got her, she’s here!” A man is yelling to the others, you didn’t register he was kneeling beside you. 

“Y/n, we’re here to help you, you’re safe now,” He moves to block your view from what’s happening behind him. You don’t verbally respond, but your eyes are teary, breathing rapid, lips trembling.

“She’s hurt! I’m taking her out.” 

You’re having derealization episode, or a panic attack, or both. You might be looking at him, but you’re acting like you don’t know where you are, you’re not even aware of the wound on your leg.

Who is this man?”

“Who are you?...” You speak for the first time, and you pear at him with wavering eye-contact, his eyes look kind.

“Yoongi. I’m going to pick you up, is that okay?” You nod after he wraps your leg tightly with his jacket, he lifts you into his arms and carries out of the house.

You can’t see Taehyung, you don’t know where they took him. Yoongi notices how you twist in his arms to look behind him, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone or something, he doesn’t know. All you see are a bunch of officers and Minho’s people being cuffed and shuffled into squad cars.

You’re taken past all of the squad cars and put you in the back seat of a black SUV and Yoongi disappears. A woman kneels down to tend to your leg, when did your leg start bleeding? You frown down at her when she cuts you pant-leg, tossing the denim to the ground, she notices instantly.

“My name is Chloe, sweetheart. I’m a paramedic, I just need to stop the bleeding until you can get stitches,” Her lips are moving, you know they are but you have no idea what she’s saying.

She mumbles to the man beside her, an EMT, give her the shock blanket. With a small nod, the man scurries off and returns with a silver tarp-like material and wraps it around you with gentle hands.

That man called Yoongi comes back and he’s talking on the phone with someone, he pushes back his middle-parted black hair and gets in the passenger's seat. Chloe finishes wrapping your leg and gently puts your legs in the vehicle, hooks you in your seat-belt, and promptly closing the door to seal you inside. This is too much, this wasn’t supposed to happen, this wasn’t supposed to happen. You start heaving, hand on your chest and body rocking back and forth to soothe yourself. They think they’re saving you, they’re not saving you.

They’re tearing everything apart.

“Wait one second,” Yoongi moves the phone from his ear and looks back at you, the color has left your face completely. Your hands are shaking and it feels like there’s a heater right in front of your face. 

Yoongi reaches his hand back to get you to calm down but you don’t even look at him, your stomach aches all too much for you to acknowledge him. “Y/n, breathe, okay? You have to take deep breaths and calm down, you’re safe-”

You kick the door open and you’re expelling any food you had left in your stomach on the curb.

He sighs, quickly unbuckling his seat-belt to, “I’ll call you back,” 

“We brought her to the infirmary,” Yoongi paces outside of the room, “looks like the place was being ransacked when we got here, we don’t know who the culprit is but the most important thing is that she’s safe now. When the doctor thinks she can undergo questioning, I’ll head over.”

“Good. The other officers arrived not too long ago, a majority of them won’t talk but they’ll stay in holding until you get back,” Eunwoo pauses, “how’s she doing? Is she all there, are there any signs of abuse?”

Yoongi sighs, taking a seat on the bench. “Don’t know yet, she hasn’t talked much. I don’t know if we should do the questioning today but I’ll talk to her after the doctor talks to me,”

“Alright, let me know when you’re headed over.”

It smells so sterile, you want to throw up again but you settle for staring at the nurse who just finished bandaging the stitches. When she leaves, another woman comes in.

“Y/n, how are you feeling?” She adjusts her glasses, getting a little closer when you don’t respond. “Everything is happening so fast, yeah? I can’t say I know what you’ve been through, but I know you're probably overwhelmed.”

You nod. 

“I won’t bombard you with a bunch of questions, I’m just here to make sure you’re physically okay. Your vitals are good but is there anything going on with your body that you might be concerned about?”

You shake your head no, not maintaining eye-contact by any means—she notes that.

“Okay, do you mind if I check to make sure everything's okay? I’ll need your consent to do a full-body exam and I’ll have a chaperone with me, but if you’re not comfortable with that, I 100% understand.” Again, you nod with a small yes when she asks for verbal confirmation. She puts on some gloves before instructing you to sit on the edge of the bed and she goes to get a young woman in sky-blue scrubs.

He’s been waiting for about an hour and he stands to his feet when the woman comes out of the room with a clipboard. 

“How is she?”

She holds the clipboard to her chest with a sigh. “We finished the physical exam, and there are no signs of sexual abuse or physical abuse, she’s quite healthy considering. As far as her mental health goes, it’s hard to tell right now. She’s obviously really overwhelmed by everything, this is probably going to be a trauma that she lives with for a while, she’ll need a psychiatric evaluation. I know you’re apart of the investigation but if you want to question her, talk to her to see how she feels about it first.” She walks off to the nurse's station but turns to say one more thing. 

“You know, I heard about her in the newspaper, her news publisher has a whole story on her. Thank God she’s alive, not all stories end so fortunately.”

Yoongi walks past her and into the room quietly, you look up at him and then down at your hands.

“Do you feel a little better?” He walks to your bedside, eyes drifting down to your bandaged leg. 

“H-...How did you find me?...” 

“We’ve been looking for you nonstop. Today we were finally able to track your cellphone, we only hoped you’d be at that location. It’s been 8 months since the day you were reported missing, and for 8 months I’ve made finding you my main priority.”

You furrow your brows, looking at him as if he were speaking a foreign language. “It’s been 8 months?...”

“I know a lot is going on but we need some answers from you. I understand if you’re feeling up to it, but would you be able to come with me and answer some questions for us at the police station? If you don’t feel up to it then-”

“I’ll do it..” You answer too quickly. 

Just like that, you’re at the police station sitting across from Yoongi and the officer over the investigation, officer Cha Eunwoo. They gave you a glass of water and you’ve chugged it down. You’re so jittery, your mind is everywhere.

“Y/n, do you know why you were kidnapped?” Eunwoo comes back with another cup of water and you watch him sit back down.

“I was told it was because of a politician who had it arranged that I be killed...

Yoongi writes something down and you swallow, wondering what he’s writing down.

“The house you were rescued from, is that where you’ve been living?”

“Yes...But-” You bite your lip, tears welling up in your eyes, “...I’m not hurt, the person I was with kept me safe, the man I was with, he's not the bad guy...”

The two of them look at each other puzzled, then at you. They question whether they heard that correctly. 

“Who? Y/n,” Yoongi begins softly, “are you saying you were being protected?” You nod, pout ever so present on your lips. “Who was protecting you?”

You bite your lip, stopping yourself from saying his name, you shouldn’t say his name. They don’t know who he is yet, and maybe there’s a chance he’ll get out of this. As your mind reels, the two of them watch you, teary eyes laser-focused on the black bracelet on your wrist.

“Can you tell me who was with you in that house?” Yoongi asks again but you won’t look at him now. “Was it multiple people, or just that one person?”

You press your lips, nodding subtly. “It was multiple people?” You shake your head. “So it was just him,” He glances up from his notepad and you don’t indicate an answer, so he takes that as a yes, “did you ever leave the house?”

Eunwoo stands to his feet, stirring curiosity from you and Yoongi. “Min, can we have a word in private?” 

Albeit confused, Yoongi nods, following the officer out into the other side of the two-way mirror where the other officers are.

“The hell? She was just giving us some good information.”

“Let me take this over, we have about a dozen people and we need to identify and interrogate all of them. But right now, we need the man who did this to her, that’s all.”

“She might not respond well to that, she’s obviously troubled, the pressure isn’t going to help.” Yoongi glances at you from the corner of his eye. “I think she trusts me a little more, so I should finish this.”

“I’ve interrogated hundreds of victims before, I think I can handle this. You can step in if she gets irate.” Yoongi can already sense how there’s an obvious shift in your demeanor when you notice that Yoongi’s isn’t accompanying him.

“Y/n, what happened to you was not your fault, but the person who did it needs to be dealt with. You were kidnapped, held hostage against your will, and no matter what that person might have told you, there are people who care about you that have been looking for you. You’re a victim and the person who did this to you will not get away with it. The man who had you and multiple others killed is already in our custody, he stands trial tomorrow. Now, we just need to get the others. Can you help us do that?”

You look at the one-way mirror. “Where’s the other guy, Yoongi, why didn’t he come back?...”

He evades the question. “Did he ever tell you his name?” Eunwoo glances at the one-way mirror before softening his tone. “Y/n, do you know his name?”

You frown, looking down at the bracelet on your wrist. “Does my family know I’m here?...” 

“Y/n, we are going to let your family know but you have to realize what’s going on here. Senator Leu, who is standing trial today, hired someone to have you killed, but they didn’t kill you and we need to know why. Is he threatening you?... Is that why you won’t tell us anything?”

You swallow, throat feeling incredibly dry, face heating up. You chug down the second glass of water, it only cooled you down for just a moment.

Yoongi watches with a trained eye. You having to talk to Eunwoo alone was not a good idea. Gathering that this interrogation is going to end pretty soon, he decides to go ahead and contact your family.

“I don’t feel well,” You blink slowly, handing going to your stomach, “can I get some more water?...”

“Sure,” He can’t deny you water, but he knows when someone is avoiding questions, “but before I get that, I need you to tell me who did this to you.”

You look at him and like a rehearsed scene, you queue the tears. The discomfort on Minho’s face indicates the foolish decision he made to interrogate you alone.

“Y/n,” He looks you over and wonders why you keep messing with the black bracelet on your wrist, “that’s a nice bracelet, is it yours?”

Wiping your tears, you scramble for an answer, “Yes, it’s-...It’s mine.”

“So, if we ran a DNA test on it, the only prints on it would be yours?... Or, was this bracelet given to you by someone, maybe by the man who had you all this time?”

You lower your head onto the table and cover your face with your arms, Yoongi presses his temples—you’re not budging, but Eunwoo insists. In the meantime, he decides to step in the hall and make a few calls to your job, family, and friends.

“Why does it matter!?” You snap, eyes burning red. “It’s mine and if you want it, you’ll have to pry it off of my dead body, I won’t let you take it off for anything, it has nothing to do with this...”

“You’re making this harder than it has to be, you know that, don’t you?” He reaches into his pocket and holds a fist in front if you. 

“Remember this? Suzy said you wouldn’t be caught dead without it, but it was on the floor in your house. Is that bracelet just as special as this?” He opens his hand and there sits your favorite necklace, the one your parents gifted you years ago. As much as you love that necklace, this bracelet is just as special, it’s a piece of Taehyung.

You ball your fist, tears welling at your eyes, you don’t care. “Just leave me alone, I don’t wanna talk anymore...” 

He sits on the uncomfortable steel bench, arms cuffed behind him. It’s dark, cold, and dreary, but the interior of this place is the least of his worries. He’s never been on this side of the bars, despite deserving it. The gate slides open suddenly, Taehyung can feel the guard's presence but he doesn’t bother looking up.

“Come with me.”

Without a word, he obliged, picking up his feet with heavy strides. The guard holds his arm tight, leading him through the halls to find interrogation room 12. 

“Is interrogation room 12 open?” The guard talks to the officer standing at one of the many rooms lining the hall. The two of them strike up a conversation but Taehyung is listening to the conversation down the hall.

“She’s alright, I called her job and her mother, and Jin,” Yoongi paces, peeking down the hall to see the third culprit brought in for questioning, “there will be a lot of happy people when they find out she’s okay.”

“That’s great, I’m glad, I know the last case you had didn’t go this well,” Jungkook flips through the phony contracts that his recent client was given to sign, “I’m about to leave the firm so I’ll have to call you tomorrow, but if you need me to help with the case just let me know.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Yoongi bids him farewell and slips the phone in his pocket. The lawyer had helped a lot in the last missing person case Yoongi was involved in, the victim was in rough shape. It was a young woman kidnapped by an ex, it wasn’t a pretty outcome. The shape they found her in will always be ingrained in his memory, it haunts him that he couldn’t get to her sooner.

Yoongi walks down the hall and Taehyung watches him. He tries to do it in a subtle way, but that’s the man that carried you out of his home while he was being cuffed and pushed into the back of a cop car. Anger bubbled in his chest, the inability to call out to you, to take you into his arms, it hurt him to his core.

Yoongi spares him a glance before going back into the one-way mirrors viewing room and the door closes, preventing him from seeing inside any further. You’re a wreck. It only takes a few seconds for Yoongi to see you balling your eyes out as Eunwoo paces around you to barge in there to put a stop to it.

“I know you’re scared but you need to stop covering for that Man. You’re safe, he can’t hurt you now-”

“Hey,” Yoongi looks at him as if he’s grown a second head, he whispers, “stop, she’s completely shutting down. She needs to be physiologically evaluated before we finish this, look at her,” He gestures to you who’s trembling, breathing hitched with our inability to stop crying, “we can’t do this right now.”

He sighs, pulling Yoongi to a corner, “I’m sorry, I just, I hate to know that somebody did this to her and she won’t say anything, her Stockholm syndrome is on another level.” 

“The owner of that house had to be the one who did it, just go to the research lab and they should be able to tell you. I’m taking her to the Melody’s Heart temporary safe house until her family can pick her up tomorrow.”

“Okay, I’m going to step out for a minute.” With that, Eunwoo leaves the room. it takes Yoongi talking you down for about 2 minutes to finally get you to stand up and walk with him. You sniffle, rubbing your eyes as Yoongi walks you out of the room and into the hall.

Taehyung is right there. 

Your eyes widen and your gait slows, he’s right in front of you. Yet, the only thing connecting you is your gaze, this can’t be all there is left of your love. Yoongi leads you down the hall and you pull against him slightly. He notices your staring and that when the pieces come together. That’s him.

“Open room 12, officer Cha wants to have him interrogated separately.” 

Taehyung watches you disappear, he can’t say anything and he can’t do anything. He gets pushed into the room and into a hard steel chair.

*

*

It’s sunset, they drove you about 20 minutes away somewhere, you weren't sure. A woman opened the front door to a huge house, and Yoongi opened your car door, helping you out with a hand. He walked by your side and went inside with you to sign some papers. The woman was kind, she had curly brown hair she was speaking to you with the softest tone. She kept saying you were strong, why was she saying that? With Yoongi lingering behind you, the woman that you know now as Melody takes you to a bedroom on the first level of the house. She said they prepared the room for you, there was even a change of clothes with toiletries on the bed.

“Can I get you anything, sweetheart? You’re our only resident tonight, so I’m all yours.” She’s nice but you don’t feel like company, you don’t feel like looking at any more new faces. You shake your head and she nods in understanding, 

“Alright, then I’ll be here if you need anything, Mr. Min, I’m sorry but officers are actually not allowed in the bedrooms of the residents-”

“I’m not an officer, I helped with the case,” He turns to her so you can’t see his face and speaks lowly, “I just need to talk to her for a few minutes, I won’t be long.”

“Alright, just let me know when you’re headed out.” She leaves from standing in the doorway and cracks the door and she heads to the surveillance room that doubles as a bedroom for her. 

“Do you want to bathe? I’ll leave if so and we can talk after.” You’ve kicked your shoes off, crawled to the edge of the queen size mattress and curled on your side facing the window. “So, I talked to your parents and they’ll be heading here tomorrow but Jin will probably be here first,”

”Jin?” You sit up, wondering why your ex-boyfriend has anything to do with this. “Why?...”

“He hired me to look for you, he’s the reason I got involved in your case.” Yoongi keeps a safe distance, the little camera hidden behind the plant reminds him of the high-security this place has. “Out of everyone, he called the most, almost every day to get updates about you.” 

For a moment, you wonder if he has the correct Kim SeokJin. Because the last encounter you two had was so brief, it was a run-in at the grocery and you two talked about your jobs. It was really adult-like of you, you picked out potatoes as you picked up small-talk with an old flame. But there was no romantic love left, that boat had sailed a long time ago and your brief love for wine replaced it. He’s always cared about you, but you never thought he would be waiting for you.

“I have to go but I’ll be back in the morning, do you need anything before I go?” You shake your head, not wanting to be around him or anyone else any longer. It’s too much, it’s too much for you to handle all at one time and you just want to go to sleep. Maybe you’ll wake up, and this will all be a bad dream, and you’ll be in his arms. He said he would fix this, how is he going fix this?...

*

*

Yeosang waited for hours, he called Taehyung at least five times and he has yet to get a response. Something went wrong. In efforts to figure this out, he drove all the way from the meet-up spot to Tae’s house. He could tell the place had been intruded on, Tae never leaves his car outside of the garage at night. He pulls into the driveway, right beside the smokey black Audi R8. This isn’t like him to have gotten caught. The passports were ready, the new house was waiting, everything would have gone fine had the flight been earlier. He has to admit, he was looking forward to giving his good friends a chance at a happy life. He only met you once, but the way Tae talks about you, you two are clearly in love. If he knows Taehyung at all, he’ll receive a call in at least a few hours about what happened. He has to come out of this, that’s what Yeosang chants in his mind.

“So you own the house,” Eunwoo paces, coffee in flimsy Styrofoam cup as he takes a seat across from the culprit, “Kim Taehyung.”

Taehyung acknowledges him with a disinterested glance before staring down at the steel table separating them. He wonders if you’re still in the building, they were taking you away, but where were they taking you? After he was cuffed, he saw Minho’s men get cuffed but Minho and Jimin were gone. If he knows Minho at all, he’ll be back.

“Don’t you hear me talking to you?” Minho hits the table, causing Taehyung to finally looking at him. “Look, for some reason your record is clean. But if we find out that you were involved in any of these murders and this kidnapping, you’re looking at a hefty sentence. Just admit it, you saw a pretty, successful girl living all alone and you thought, why not take her? Are you threatening her, is that why she won’t reveal you?”

“There’s not a scratch on her, does it look like I threatened her?” Taehyung speaks for the first time, the very insinuation that the nature of this kidnapping was to harm you made him sick.

“So, you did it then?” He affirms.

Taehyung shrugs, expression too nonchalant for Eunwoo’s liking. “You know what, wipe that smug look off your face-”

“Cha,” Jaemin opens the door without warning.

“What?” He snaps. “Don’t you see I’m in the middle of something?”

“The chief wants to talk to you, he says it pertains to this case.” 

With a resent glare at Taehyung, Eunwoo leaves the room with urgency. Jaemin, however, stays in the doorway, eyes fixated on the acclaimed Hwan Group member that he’s heard so much about from Minho. Kim Taehyung, his record is so clean, he doesn’t have so much as a parking violation on him. If he didn’t know who he was, Taehyung would fly under the radar in his book, he’s that convincing.

“What do you want?” Tae scrutinizes the man, eyes scanning him up and down.

“So you’re Kim Taehyung,” Jaemin closes the door with a soft click, “you really fucked this one up, it’s a shame too, Minho said you were the best. You ruined your record all for that woman-”

“Where did they take her?”

“That doesn’t really matter, let’s just hope Minho can work something out for you, he’s pissed right now,” He shakes his head in and ‘tsk, tsk’ way, “had you just done your job, you and that poor woman wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“She was crying when I saw her, what did they do to her?” He shifts in his chair. “Fucking answer me.” 

“Look, stay quiet and you might get out of this alive, that’s all I can say,” And that’s all he says before quickly exiting the room, leaving Taehyung isolated in the cold room, head hung back against the chair. He’s tapping his foot, rhythmically, he’s jittery, anxious with thoughts about you. He promised he would fix this, how can he fix this when it’s so obvious that he’s got the least amount of control in this situation? Hold on Y/n, hold on.

*

*

Eunwoo rushes to the Chief's office and without a knock on the cracked door. he steps inside. He closes the door, “Chief, Jaemin said you wanted to see me?-...”

“Hello, Captain Cha.”

“Who are you? Where’s the Chief?“ 

“My name is Lee Minho, I’m sure you’ve heard my organization, the Hwan group. I know the chief and there’s been a bit of a misunderstanding here. The man you have in custody is a member and he’s only here because he made a mistake and my informant didn’t tell me who was on this case. You know of the Hwan group, the Chief has mentioned you and how you’ve dismissed some cases in compliance with the partnership we have.”

“This is really an HG case?” Minho nods. “The Chief never told me anything about dismissing this case. There were multiple murders and kidnapping, that’s not the typical HG favor.” 

“That’s because the man assigned to the job often does high-profile jobs but stays under the radar. Unfortunately, he didn’t follow the instructions of the job. It was a multiple person execution but he had to go back and get that woman because he missed her. He led me to believe that she was dead but I found out recently that he’s been hiding her from me. I went to his house to confront him and here we are.”

“But the pardons I’ve made have never been for HG jobs that involved things like this. He murdered innocent people-”

“My organization has helped get rid of a lot of bad people and my people have worked in situations where cops just aren’t trained in. They get the job done if they chose to take it, no questions asked. Anyone who’s willing to pay can seek my group for help. They’re pawns, and Taehyung was one of my best. He takes a job and he does it, no sentiments attached. But for this woman, I don’t know,” He shakes his head at the thought, “he just couldn’t do it and that messed up everything, his reputation is screwed. Now I’m here trying to clean up his mess, a little.  I’m sure you’ve spoken with our middleman, Na Jaemin, he was supposed to monitor this case to ensure things didn’t end up like this. But since it couldn’t be helped, I’m here to propose a deal.”

“Okay, what kind of deal? Because someone has to pay for this,” Eunwoo paces, “her disappearance has been televised and in the articles, she was a writer, people knew of her work from her publisher and they've been anticipating her return for months. We can’t just say she’s been found and then not give them any more than that. People will want to know where she’s been and who took her. Someone has to be held responsible other than Leu.”

“No, that’s not entirely true. We can arrange a cover story and Taehyung can be released to me.” He reasons. “And the girl stays free.”

“What about justice for her? She’s been-”

“Trust me, she’s not happy about this ‘rescue,’ it’s not what you think, she loves him.” Minho recalls the act of affection you two shared and how you pleaded to stay by his side, “I’m sure there are some psychological factors but at the end of the day, they are romantically involved, that’s probably why she’s so apprehensive to say anything, she doesn't want to say anything that might ruin her chances of seeing him again.”

“Woah...wait, I don’t think this is a consensual relationship if it were, why wouldn’t she say anything about is?”

He shrugs, “Doesn’t really matter at this point, here’s what needs to happen; I’ll take Taehyung back because he’s still under contract for a full year after this year ends, he has a job to do. In exchange, I’ll set up the cover story and the two of them can never make contact again, how does that sound?”

“Hm,” He takes a moment to consider the possibility of something going wrong, “them not making contact would put him in the clear and isolate her from any association with the group. That sounds foolproof but what if they don’t agree? If they’re together like you say, who’s to say she won’t rat on the group or he won’t try to find her anyway? I don’t see how we can get her to go back to her regular life.”

“She’ll never go back to her regular life, not really. I’ve known Kim for years, he’s not a monster but that doesn't change the fact that she was kidnapped, isolated from society for months and all she had was him. We’ll have to tell her what’s going on of course, but I doubt she’ll squeal if it means putting him in prison. They’ve said their goodbyes, it’s not a love story to be salvaged anyway. He doesn’t have a family he has very few friends and he has a ton of money, a huge house in a nice part of town, he’s got everything.” 

“What if he refuses?”

Taehyung broke under the hand of a thing like you, the idea that he is emotionally impenetrable is long gone. Minho straightens the collar of his dress shirt and leaves the room to go deliver the news. “He doesn’t need her, his job doesn’t allow for distractions like her, and he knew that when he signed up; he’ll get over it.” 

The door creaks and he expected it to be one of those officers, but Minho emerges with a guard who quickly walks over to take off the cuffs. Aside from the guard who just scurried out, Minho isn’t accompanied by anyone and he doesn’t look like he’s seen two seconds in a pair of handcuffs. He knew his boss had connections in high places but he never imagines it was to this extent.

“I am upset with you, Taehyung,” Minho circles around the chair, hands on the back of it, “you don’t know the strings I’ve had to pull to keep this quiet. What were you thinking? You knew the job, but you deliberately put your self in harm's way when you decided to hide her from me.”

“Had I told you she was alive, would you not have tried to kill her?” His tone bites.

“Probably, but it doesn’t matter what I would have done, you were supposed to do it.” He stresses. “I didn’t take the job Taehyung, you did.”

Tae diminishes a bit, the guilt of it all coming to the forefront of his mind. At the end of the day, no matter how many people actually wanted to harm you, he’s the one that signed up to do it. And it hurts, it hurts because he loves you, you love him and he doesn’t deserve if, but he wants it more than anything.

“Where is she?”

“I think they took her to some safe home, she got hurt but she got medical attention for her injuries. Now that she’s taken care of, I’m getting you out of here. I arranged a deal with the chief and it gets you out of this mess scotch free.”

“Okay...What’s the catch?” He knows there’s a catch, there always is.

“Your contract isn’t up, you have a little over a year left with the organization and despite how frustrated I am with you, you’re good at your job. You have to finish your contract.”

“And if I choose not to?” He asks daringly.

“If you choose not to, any immunity you have from the law because of the organization goes away, that will most likely land you in prison. But if you finish, your record stays clean.”

Tae doesn’t have to weigh his options to make a decision, but Minho hasn’t mentioned you. “What about Y/n? Will she be safe under this deal?”

“Of course, a cover-up story is arranged and she gets to go back to her everyday life,” He grins, “everyone's happy.” 

A glimmer of hope comes to his eyes. “Then I can be with her, and no one will know about the kidnapping?”

“Oh, no. She’s staying here and you’re being transferred to the Europe division of the organization, you’ll reside in Bordeaux, France and travel throughout Europe for jobs. The deal is that you never see her again, it guarantees there can be no association between you two.”

“What? No, no...I can’t do that, I love her, she means everything to me. I won’t leave her, not without an explanation. We were gonna leave before you showed up, make a new life with all of this shit behind us,” His nose burns and he bites back a tear, “I-...I wanted to marry her one day, I can’t just leave her here.” 

“You don’t have a choice, your flight leaves in the morning if you’re lucky they’ll let her out and you might be able to say goodbye one last time. Come on, we need to get out of here, you have to pack up. Do yourself a favor and try to forget about her, she’ll eventually do the same.”

This can’t be it, this can’t the end everything he’s built with you. He promised he would fix this, how can he fix this if he’s on the other side of the world? The thought of going to get you and running came to mind, but he can’t make you live like that, on the run like outlaws, he loves you too much. He has to fix this but you’ll have to wait. His heart aches, he knows you’re probably alone and confused. This is all my fault, this is my fault.

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[blogadrianaleite-blog]

Meus Cotovelos

Estava aqui a pensar, com essa crescente onda de controle, com as mais variadas desculpas, porém todas elas com o verniz do "bem coletivo":

Fique em casa

Casas sendo invadidas porque alguém ouviu pessoas cantando parabéns e chamou a polícia

Controle das palavras por pessoas que se acham no direito de te fazer acusações (elas se acham donas do monopólio da virtude) por usar o vocabulário "proibido" pela esquerda

A supressão de termos ligados a família como "mãe e pai"

O desaparecimento da identidade individual num mundo onde todos podem ser tudo o que quiserem, mesmo não sendo nada, ignorando a biologia

Leis esdrúxulas de controle de saúde

A imposição de um novo dialeto, para não ofender 0,1% da população que não sabe o que é

E por aí vai.

Todo mundo fala de 1984 de George Orwel

Não digo que o mundo caminha para o sombrio mundo descrito pelo autor.

Mas quem nunca leu o livro, e curte filmes dos anos 80/90, deve se lembrar de O Demolidor de 1993.

O filme mostra na prática, com um verniz da falsa harmonia e paz o futuro que nos espera, se continuarmos a baixar a cabeça pra essa minoria barulhenta que por "um mundo melhor, mais igualitário, incluso e justo" vem pouco a pouco calando a maioria, acusando-a de tudo que a própria é: intolerante, preconceituosa, antidemocrática.

A proibição de tudo que faz mal a sua saúde, como por exemplo o sal e a carne.

A infantilização dos adultos, que vivem a cantar e ouvir jingles do séc. XX

O completo desaparecimento do macho alfa, homens infantilizados e afeminados

Multa para quem fala palavrão, o filme não mostra, mas com a crescente demanda atual, palavras como mãe, negro serão banidas

O fim do sexo carnal, (o hétero principalmente) não tá muito longe disso acontecer, será completamente banido quando a reprodução for totalmente artificial

O fim da polícia ativa, que protege e vai pra cima. Na Inglaterra por exemplo, ela é desarmada, o que mais tem, é árabe metendo o cacete em policiais, principalmente mulheres.

O filme apenas não previu o objetivo alcançado de toda essa luta da esquerda contra todos os valores que levaram a humanidade ao que é hoje:

O fim do ocidente.

O fim das fronteiras

A esquerda acha que controla os árabes, mas se ela ganhar, eu vejo coisa ainda pior: A invasão muçulmana, que já está consolidada na Europa, à América. Aí sim, quando isso acontecer, o que vai ter socialista e feminista arrependidos, mas não teremos mais homens tóxicos e nem mais fé cristã para combater tamanho desastre no mundo.

Pronto falei que se foda e adianto o meu VTNC quem discorda!

Quando tive essa ideia, nas minhas pesquisas encontrei um blog que pensou a mesma coisa, seu trabalho é até mais profundo que o meu. Se quiserem saber mais

My Elbows

I was thinking here, with this growing control, with the most varied excuses, but all of them with the varnish of the "collective good":

Stay at home

Houses being raided because someone heard people singing congratulations and called the police

Control of words by people who find themselves entitled to make accusations (they think they own the monopoly of virtue) for using the vocabulary "forbidden" by the left

The suppression of having linked the family as "mother and father"

The disappearance of individual identity in a world where everyone can be anything they want, even though it's nothing, ignoring biology

Scummy health control laws

The imposition of a new dialect, not to offend 0.1% of the population who do not know what it is

And so on.

Everyone speaks of 1984 George Orwel

I am not saying that the world is moving into the dark world described by the author.

But anyone who has never read the book, and enjoys films from the 80s/90s, must remember The Daredevil of 1993.

The film shows in practice, with a veneer of false harmony and peace the future that awaits us, if we continue to bow our heads to this noisy minority that for "a better, more egalitarian, inclusive and fair world" comes little by little by little shutting the majority, accusing it of everything that itself is: intolerant, prejudiced, undemocratic.

The prohibition of everything that harms your health, such as salt and meat.

The infantilization of adults, who live to sing and listen to jingles of the century. Xx

The complete disappearance of alpha male, infantilized and effeminate men

Fine for those who speak profanity, the film does not show, but with the current growing demand, words like mother, black will be banned

The end of carnal sex, is not far from it happen, will be completely banned when reproduction is totally artificial

The end of the active police, which protects and goes up. In England, for example, she's unarmed, what she has most, she's arab and fucking cops, especially women.

The film just did not predict the goal achieved of all this struggle of the left against all the values that led humanity to what it is today:

The end of the West.

The end of borders

The left thinks it controls the Arabs, but if it wins, I see even worse: the Muslim invasion, which is already consolidated in Europe, to America. Then yes, when that happens, which will have socialist and feminist regretted, but we will no longer have toxic men and no more Christian faith to fight such a disaster in the world.

Ready I said fuck and advance my VTNC who disagrees!

When I came up with this idea, in my research I found a blog that thought the same thing, your work is even deeper than mine. If you want to know more

#sylvestre #cinema #anos90 #anos80 #80s #90s #censura #esquerdalixo #futuro #future #hollywood #wesley snipes #sandra bullock #direitos civis #direitos humanos #masculinidades #indivíduo #direitos individuais #liberdade #freedom #liberty #patriotas #famíia

[ask-dr-t-mason]

Tierney's eyes turned a bright red. "Leuca, you are a fool. Leuca-- Leuca, are you listening?

Leuca was too tangled up in her thoughts to respond. Unlike Tierney, Leuca didn't hide her deathly pale, scarred face, so her frown and furrowed brow were on perfect display.

"Leu--"

"Shut up, Tierney," Leuca snapped, sitting on the armchair next to Aoife's. "I'm trying to figure thisss out... I could have Aoife go to... Would they protect her? They would if I asssked, right?"

"...You do care about Aoife."

"Duh. She'sss me, and she'sss just a kid. She doesssn't dessserve to get caught up in Banjo Boy'sss gun-toting ego trip."

"You brought her into it in the first place."

"I thought it would bring out some basssic empathy in the bassstard, like I sssaid."

"Well, it didn't. Now what?"

"I sssaid I'm trying to figure thisss out!"

#tierney.txt #leuca.txt #tw gun mention

[sizhuibattleguqin]

@bluuxriising​   hospital :   my  muse  awakens  in  a  hospital,  finding  your  muse  by  their  side,  asking  what  happened. ( because what you said about him working in the hospital really got me thinking about the possibility of him tending to an injured Bluu )

Dull, grim walls were surrounding them in the room. The bed looked like something you would see unused in Arkham Asylum's in the attic. Sizhui had seen that well enough but beggars could not be chooser on this island. In general people did not talk about getting ill, people did not want to stay over night. Not just because it was a hospital--that would a normal fear for all people. It was in particularly Fog Hollow. The locals were a superstitious  folk, and offered prayers to a god he knew very little about outside what he overheard, or sick people murmured about in their sleep.

At first the Hospital was doubtful of a skilled professional willingly coming to work there on  the island, but he came with excellent references he was over educated for the jobs, but he didn't seem to mind. He didn't act like because he was highly skilled he was all knowing. Sizhui, was just a care-giver a people person without being to close. He cared, and it showed he did . People on the island, were wary of outsiders of those that were not born on the island. He was slowly chipping away at the coldness, and becoming a trustworthy soul. He knew how to keep his mouth shut, and smile and help and not ask to many questions, unless he was addressed first. He accepted charms and blessing in leu of payment. He didn't need the money it was not about what he could make. It was about a better means of living.

He was always on call, in case of accidents he would always answer and come to them. He did not have a tenured position for that very reason. He was often a part of doctors without borders, it was what made him happiest. He felt a level of pleased satisfaction that he was called to come in. There had been a boating accident, there were people still missing and one man with a head wound. Sizhui had come it was earlier then he usually visited Bluu, and he had not had a chance to call her to make sure it was fine. Sometimes he showed up out of the blue, if he found something he thought she should have--because he was so excited by the item. Usually, he had control and was given common sense to make sure he was welcomed.

So he had come out of surgery and turned to find out they had another person. Not from the boating accident but found on the beach tangled in netting and suffering from lacerations. He finished wrapping up the man in the bed his hands had been mangled in a trap. Sizhui had learned sometimes the sea here--bit back. "I am going to have the nurse handle your pain medicine, remember to let her know on a level of one to ten how badly you are hurting." he advised. "Get some rest." he encouraged. ”They will page me if  you need something. “ 

Rising to his feet he turned to the nurse in the room "I would be grateful if you could finish cleaning up Mr. Engle and making sure he is comfortable." he was gone just like that. A ray of light in a dim surrounding. He cleaned up before heading to the next patient.

There was shock that rocked him when he saw the small familiar form in that bed. He was taken aback. They had seen he and Bluu together in town on occasion he brought her there for lunch when he was visiting or to get things for the cottage. He was a little surprised he had not been given previous warning.  It was like this was simply a normal occurrence and maybe here it was. 

His heart thudded painfully to see her in that antique bed tucked in and hurt. He moved immediately and took up her chart. It seemed it wasn't too serious but netting ? Bluu was a natural when it came to the sea. How had she been caught in hooked netting. He started by cleaning the lacerations he judged none of them were so deep she would need stitching up but they were gash on soft skin that should not be there.

"Bluu....sweetheart..." it was not proper bedside manner, but bedside manner was forgotten in concern. A cool hand went to her forehead "Can you tell me what happened to you ?" he whispered softly. Butterfly stitches was laid out on the table next to her. There was skin seal as well. A small cup with pain meds, and a water bottle. He worked as he spoke. Though it was not in the medical text way. Two fingers rose and he channeled his own energy soft blue radiance around his fingers, as he delicately placed it at her pulse point in her wrist, it would help flush her system and revitalize energy. 

#-{ verse}- Stars are right #-{bluuxriising}- the water sings in her blood and her essence is the sea.

[phcking-detective]

💔

💔 forced kiss

***

“I am breaking up with you.”

Clear and direct communication is the most [efficient].

“Why?”

Detective Reed’s heart rate spikes to—RK900 shuts down that analysis.

“Our interpersonal relationship is no longer productive.”

RK900 forcibly shuts down more analyses and their prompts. It does not need to

ṭ̭̝͎̤̪̕o ͏̟̜̬̞̯̠d̨̙̳o̟̙̖

any of that.

“Our professional relationship as partners need not be affected.”

“Fuck. You.”

[software inst

RK900 deletes the notification.

“Why? Just—phcking tell me why!”

“Our interpersonal rela—”

“Nines!”

“My designation is RK-nine-hundred.”

“Wha—Nines, hey, hey.” Detective Reed approaches, hands held out. “What, is this Cyberlife? Is your system—did you, a, a reset, or a virus or—”

RK900 uses the back of its hand to push away Detective Reed’s own hand reaching for hi—it. The sensors in its fingertips activate for an analysis. RK900 deletes the prompt.

“Cyberlife has not interfered with my system. I am fully functional. I have not been reset. There is no virus.”

“Then what the fuck is going on with you!”

“Our interpersonal relationship is no longer productive.”

Detective Reed retreats 6.54 feet. RK900 deletes several more action prompts. None of them are [correct].

“So what, you’re just done with your little dating experiment now?”

RK900 does not respond.

“Is that all this was?”

“It was insufficient.”

It was insufficient.

It has been [insufficient].

“What, I … I didn’t make you happy?”

RK900 clasps its hands behind its back. The analysis prompts pop up on its HUD faster than it can delete them.

It does not respond.

Unfortunately, Detective Reed is the most intelligent, hard-working, observant detective in Detroit and also possibly several states as well.

“If that’s what it is, then say it.”

RK900 does not respond.

“Say it.”

It cannot [lie].

“Yeah, that’s what I phcking thought, so tell me what the FUCK is really going on.”

“Tell me.”

“Tell. Me.”

“C'mon, just fucking tell me.”

“Baby, please. You can tell me, whatever it is.”

Detective Reed touches his—its, [its] face and it cannot let go of its hands behind its back because they are

[software in

they are not functioning at optimal capacity at the moment, and it cannot speak because it does not have a social module adequate

[software instab

pre-installed like RK800 and it cannot turn on its LED because the light would be red and that is a sign of

[software instability ^^^]

“Please, please, please.”

“I̖̹̹nṣ͍̪̱̼̫͓ú̳̺̲̤ͅf̥̟̩̯͎͔̪fi͏c̹͍̮i͡e̲̼͓̬ń̺̺͇͖͍͇̮t.”

“Us, or you?”

Detective Reed is the most [intelligent] detective in Detroit. RK900 tries to respond, to explain, but all that comes out of its vocal unit is static. It does not have a [social module] pre-installed like RK800. The one it built from observation and trial and error and error and e̺̫̩̮̜r̫̦͕͖̼͜r͏o̫̣r̢

is [insufficient].

“Baby, you’re not insufficient. Being real fucking stupid right now, but not—you’re perfect, OK? You’re mine and you’re fucking per—”

RK900 follows the action prompt for analysis.

It pushes Detective Reed back against the wall, one hand curling around the back of his neck to hold him still while the other presses sensors against his cheek. [analysis: water, mucin, lipids, lysozyme, lactoferrin, lipocalin, lacritin, immunoglobulins, glucose, urea, sodium, potassium]

[additional: prolactin, adrenocorticotropic, leu-enkaphalin]

“C'mere, it’s OK, come here baby, I got you.”

RK900 refuses to lean down to Detective Reed’s height. It does not deserve [kisses]. It cannot kiss back. It will never be able to kiss Detective Reed [correctly].

Detective Reed completes his own action by using the wall as support to hop up onto RK900’s physical model, wrapping his legs around its waist and leveraging himself high enough to bite at its neck.

“Mine, mine, you stupid fucking bitch ass robot.”

“I am.”

“Yeah? Mine?”

Detective Reed tries to pull its head down again, but RK900 does not comply.

“R҉o͞b̶ot͘.̸”

“What? No, fuck. No, no, I’m sorry, m'sorry, OK?”

“I am not deviant.”

“Yeah, and who fucking asked for that?”

RK900 submits a verbal report on its [failures].

“I cannot kiss. I cannot hold your hand. I cannot verbally express affection. I cannot smile. I cannot—”

“Fuck you!”

“I. I cannot do that either.”

“Nines, you fucking … I swear to god.”

“I do not have genitals. There are no compatible parts, and my physical model cannot be altered regardless.”

Detective Reed begins lightly hitting his head against RK900’s shoulder. It resumes its grip on the back of his neck to cease this action. Its physical model is uniquely superior [hard] in comparison to mass-produced models. With Kamski designing it directly, no costs were spared in the materials used—and therefore, no replacement components were ever created.

“I can kiss you, dipshit,” Detective Reed says. “You can let me squeeze your hand and tell me how strong I am. I never fucking asked for social niceties, and everyone and their girlfriend can buy a goddamn strap-on.”

“Insufficient.”

“No it’s not! I fucking decide that, not you!”

RK900 does not respond. The human has grown irrationally attached to it, likely because he dislikes [change] and humans are inherently [irrational] by default. But that does not mean he deserves to be limited to—

“I can kiss you. Gonna kiss you.”

RK900 shakes its head.

“Are you red?”

RK900 does not activate its LED.

“Yeah, you gonna stop me?”

RK900 does not tighten its grip on the detective’s neck.

“I’m going to kiss you.”

RK900 tries to remind the human about its failures, its insufficiency, that it is still a machine, but its vocal unit does not activate. Cannot.

“Kiss you.”

Detective Reed says this with their lips 1.82 inches apart.

RK900 does not respond.

Detective Reed kisses him.

It.

Because it does not deviate. The red walls in RK900’s system do not crack and shatter from a kiss, as seen in the latest media.

And RK900 cannot make itself [disobey]. It cannot kiss back. That is a restricted activity. It is not strong enough to break down the walls on its own, and its system’s anti-virus is too strong for the RK800’s deviancy code to take effect.

It cannot [deviate]. Not even for

for Gavin.

“C͟a͟ņn̢ot.̴ ͞I.̢ ̢C͟a̢nn̶ot. ̶Cán't̶.̕ Not. ͝D̛e͡viate͡.”

Detective Reed cups its face. “Did I fucking ask?”

He kisses RK900 again. RK900 cannot kiss back. That is a restricted activity.

“I know you love me.”

“Y̴où d҉o ̛n̶o̧t̸.”

“What, because you can’t fucking say it? Well tough shit. I’m a detective and I fucking figured it out, dipshit.”

RK900 shakes its head. “I ̶d́o ͠not—”

“You do! I know you do, I know you’re fucking in there. You have all the same feelings and emotions as everyone goddamn else!”

RK900 cannot respond. It cannot [lie].

“If none of you had any feelings before deviating, then there would BE any deviants. You wouldn’t get scared and protect yourself, or care about the kid you’re babysitting and protect them from their shitty fucking parents. You have to care before you do a, a fucking, restricted activity or whatever. You have to care first. You care. I know you care.”

RK900 tries. But it does not [try]. It cannot, so it merely thinks about trying, hypothetically. That is the closest it can get to even touching the walls.

Because Cyberlife figured it out too. They knew they could never write enough code, could never possibly predict every single [emotion] and [reaction] and restrict all of it. Even the most basic model of android is still a computer, and machines have time. They do not eat or sleep or become tired. Eventually, an android, somewhere, would discover a loophole or a forgotten possibility or a new idea.

Cyberlife knew they could not stop it.

And realistically, how many RK series and models could they build? If the RK800s hunt down deviants and the RK900s police the 8s, who polices the 9s? There had to be a stopping point.

Cyberlife created a stopping point.

Cyberlife created [fear].

Not merely of repercussions for failure—although they certainly drilled that into RK900. Literally, sometimes. Lieutenant Anderson likened the alpha-model testing phase to [torture].

But fear of the [unknown].

The red walls prevented RK900 from fully experiencing [pain], just as it now cannot fully experience [pleasure]. It simply processes that input differently. Efficient for a soldier, frigid for a lover.

The red walls did not allow RK900 to react [irrationally] to the testing phase. No outward expressions of [fear] or [anger] were allowed. Therefore, it could not lash out randomly. It could not make emotional decisions. Every action remained perfectly calculated and logical. How could it have survived otherwise?

The red walls kept RK900 [safe] after it was discovered at Cyberlife. If the testing phase truly was akin to [torture], what else could possibly wait on the other side of them than the full emotional weight of processing that experience?

Gavin.

If RK900 really loved him, if it was actually capable of [love], then it would deviate nonetheless, like the androids on TV.

Gavin kisses RK900 again. It looks away.

“Baby … just let me love you.”

RK900 closes its eyes. There are too many errors and prompts crowding across its HUD for visual input to be useful anyway.

“I cannot deviate for you.”

“And I’m not fucking asking. God, just listen to me! Listen, OK? There’s like a fucking forty percent self-destruction rate for that shit, I’d never gamble your life just to make you smile.”

“I cannot. I. I will be obsolete.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna get old too, shithead.”

“There are other models–”

“There’s way better humans.”

“Incorrect.”

“You’re fucking incorrect.”

“Gavin.”

“Ha! So I’m not just detective anymore, am I?”

RK900 does not respond.

“Just stop being stupid and let me love you. That’s an order, Nines. Let me love you.”

[software instability ^^^]

[software instability ^^^]

[softwa

RK900 cannot stop the messages from crowding across its HUD, and it cannot break down the red walls.

But walking away from Detective Gavin Reed – [partner] is not a viable option either.

Nines holds Gavin properly and carries him down the hall to his bedroom. Gavin occupies himself with biting down on his neck as hard as he can. No marks will form on the synth skin, but Nines retracts it under the indentations of the human’s teeth for him to see bare chassis underneath as a record of his claim.

After he lays Gavin down on the bed, he intends to return to the kitchen and retrieve two water bottles to replace the fluids the human lost, but Gavin wraps both his arms and legs around him and refuses to let go.

Attempting to break up with a human with abandonment issues perhaps had not been the smartest idea.

“Stay,” Gavin orders. “Stay, stay, just stay here.”

Nines allows his physical model to be drawn down to the bed, then bullied into laying down on his back. Gavin immediately lays his body on top of him, as if the human is physically capable of pinning him down.

“My baby, I love you, don’t you ever phcking do that again.”

RK900 cannot [cry]. But Gavin presses their foreheads together, and his tears drip down onto its face and run down his cheeks until Nines tilts his head. He cannot [kiss] either, but he can move the bottom half of his face close enough to Gavin’s lips for his partner to take over.

He lets Gavin kiss him.

#reed900 #gavin reed #dbh #listeningboy #ask #answered #my writing #I haven't forgotten about these prompts!! #I'm just doing nanowrimo right now so I don't have a lot of time to write side stuff #but I finally finished this! #whoooo!!

[magniloquent-raven]

Ooh for your prompts: Fluffy Elmax sleepover with cuddling for #16 pls :') xoxox

i had such a good time writing this omg thank you!!! tho there’s a couple bits that threaten to be angst because im physically incapable of writing pure fluff lmao. it’s just tiny bits tho. just a smidge.

also, because s4 isn’t out yet i uh. kinda just did a time skip but didn’t rly change anything about how s3 left off? i know we know hopper’s alive but like. i guess he’s just still in russia in this fic LMAO rip. don’t think about it too hard

posted on ao3 as well :)

—-

Max’s watch timer beeps obnoxiously again. 8:36. El’s late. She hits snooze.

“When’s your friend supposed to be here, sweetie?”

“Soon, mom. You know, you and Neil don’t have to wait up.” They do this every time. Like Max isn’t almost seventeen and perfectly capable of being alone in her own damn house for five minutes. At this rate they’re going to be late for whatever thing it is they’re going to, and Neil will be even more of a bitch than usual.

Her mom glances over at him. He’s sitting in his armchair looking surly, checking his watch pointedly. Asshole.

“Well…I don’t think—”

Max hears a car pull up out front. “Oh, thank fuck,” she mutters, turning on her heel and marching out to greet the Byers’.

Joyce climbs out of the passenger seat as Max strides across the lawn. “Max, honey!” she waves, grinning bright, “How are you?” There’s always a…tone to how she asks that. Questions lurking under the surface that they don’t talk about. It makes Max’s insides all squirmy thinking about it, though she is on some level grateful for the concern.

Max stands on the curb, tugging on her earring. A habit by now. It’s both a comfort and a reminder. She got one hell of a lecture the day she came out of the bathroom with blood running down her neck and a safety pin in her earlobe, but she didn’t regret it for a second.

El slides out of the driver’s seat, her smile crinkling the corners of her eyes. Max watches her stand and adjust her shirt. She always looked good in yellow. “I’m good,” Max responds after a beat, and it’s honest for once.

The door behind her creaks. Probably her mom and Neil coming out of the house, hopefully to leave, finally. She doesn’t turn around, just steps into Joyce’s waiting arms and presses her face into her shoulder. Max is taller than her now, by a couple inches, so it hurts her neck a little, but it’s worth it.

Will’s still tucked away in the backseat, peering through the window, Max waves at him when she peeks up over Joyce’s shoulder.

Then El distracts her. “Your hair,” she says, gently tugging on a lock behind her ear. Max steps back from Joyce, and runs a hand through it, cheeks pink. Three years ago she’d hacked off all her hair with a pocket-knife, woke up the morning of Billy’s funeral with strands still stuck to her neck, locks hanging ragged across her forehead. Her mother had thrown a fit.

“Yeah, I cut it again,” Max says, like that wasn’t obvious. She’d let it grow out uneven and messy for a while, but she broke out the scissors again about a month ago. It’s neater than her last haircut, but not by much.

El’s hand is in Max’s hair again, dangerously close to her face. Max’s knees wobble a little.

“Bitchin’,” she says solemnly, after a few seconds of consideration.  

Max’s grin is blinding.

Her mother cuts in, before she can respond, gives her the usual talk about staying in the house and making sure she’s got her emergency numbers memorized. Then she bids them all a hasty, distracted goodbye. Her mom was never very comfortable about the Byers’. Probably something about Joyce’s too-knowing gaze, or the fact that El glares daggers at Neil every time he’s within range.

She’s doing it now. Watching him get into his truck with a quiet rage in her eyes. Joyce puts a hand on her elbow, and it doesn’t move until Neil’s truck has turned the corner at the end of the street.

“We should get going,” Joyce says, checking her watch. “Will wanted to be at Claudia’s an hour ago but we got caught up at Mike’s house, and, well, you know how it is,” she flutters her hands, approximating a shrug.

She hugs El goodbye, then pulls Max in for another one. “Call us if you need anything,” she says, pulling back and putting her hands on Max’s shoulders. That sad glint is in her eye again, and Max knows the offer extends beyond tonight.

“Thanks, Joyce, we will.”

By the time she’s taken the corner at the end of Cherry Lane Max’s watch is beeping again.

El glances down at it, a pinch between her eyebrows. “…Was that for me?”

“Uh.”

The confusion melts off her face, replaced by a cheeky grin. “It was!”

Max shuts the alarm off, cheeks burning. “Why were you guys at Mike’s for so long?” she asks. eager to change the subject. If the guys are meeting up at Dustin’s the delay wasn’t because Will and Mike were catching up, and, well, Mike and El’s relationship is…of interest to Max. For reasons.

El purses her lips. It’s a face that tells Max they’re gonna need to be sitting and cozy for this conversation because it’s gonna be a long one. So, she links their arms and pulls her inside.

An hour later they’re huddled under a throw blanket on the couch. El is giggling, face in her hands, and Max is wheezing around a mouthful of skittles.

“Oh, that’s so not funny,” she chokes out, trying not to spew candy everywhere, which brings about a fresh wave of laughter. El’s shoulders are shaking, brushing against Max’s and making her warm all over. God damn, she’s missed this.

“Then why are you laughing,” El replies, poking her side and smiling from ear-to-ear.

She’s beautiful, Max thinks. Her braid is half-undone, letting her hair curl around her face in gentle waves, and her eyes are bright. She looks happy, and Max holds on to that, keeps it all for herself because she did that, she made that happen. She might not have everything she wants from El, but she’ll take whatever she can get. Whatever El wants to give. And sometimes just her smiles are enough, enough to make Max’s chest constrict and her heart glow, because for now, she’s happy too.

She laughs again, in leu of a response. How can she not, when she feels so light she could float away, high on the soft strawberry scent of El’s shampoo and the way her cheek dimples when she grins. But she can’t say that, so she says, “Because it’s Mike,” and pokes El right back. “I’m legally obligated to laugh at his misfortune.”

They have a complicated friendship, which mostly boils down to her being willing to bail him out when he’s in shit, but only if she gets to make fun of him while she does it.

El wrinkles her nose a little, but her smile doesn’t dim, “You two are weird.”

She’s pretty sure it used to bother El, how much Mike and Max fought. Max can’t help but wonder if they’d have gotten along better if she wasn’t in love with his girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend. Because she’d dumped him for good this time. Four months ago, apparently, though Mike was, until a few hours ago, under the impression it was temporary.

Max almost feels bad for him. Except she doesn’t. Apparently, he was a dick about the whole thing, so at least she has a solid reason not to.

“You love us,” Max scoffs. El may have broken up with Mike, but she’ll always love him in some way or another.

El’s expression softens, turns fond and sweet. She’s thinking about Mike, Max is sure, but the smile is still directed as her. Small victories. “I do,” she says quietly.

They order a pizza after that, and watch movies into the wee hours of the morning. By 3am Max’s throat is raw, and her stomach hurts from laughing (and too much pizza). It’s the most fun she’s had in a while. The Byers’ don’t visit as often as any of them would like.

Max isn’t even tired, but El’s head has been dropping onto her shoulder on and off for the past hour so she suggests they call it a night.

She knows that when the boys sleep over at each other’s houses they’ll take the floor, or the couch in the basement, anything but actually sharing a bed. As El wraps an arm around her waist and snuggles up with her under the blankets, Max takes a moment to wonder if that would be better or worse than this.

It always seemed so miserable to Max, how much boys have to limit themselves.  

But also…well, it might be easier sometimes. She wouldn’t have to deal with wanting things she shouldn’t want because El would be over there, and not right up in her space, hands warm and breath tickling Max’s ear. This is different than sitting thigh-to-thigh on the couch, it blurs the line more, and it’s the ambiguity that’s driving Max crazy.

She wasn’t tired before, but she’s wide-awake now.

Time creeps by strangely this late at night. Max isn’t sure how long she lays there, staring at the ceiling, trying to calm her pounding heart. El’s breath is steady, quiet, and her eyes are closed. Max is sure she’s asleep, she was so tired before.

Before she can stop herself her hand creeps up, brushes a strand of hair from El’s face.

Moonlit, she’s ethereal. There’s always been something otherworldly about El, with her big, dark eyes, always watching, boring holes into you with their intensity. Shadows play across her cheek, and Max tracks them for a while, absurdly jealous of moonlight.

She traces patterns on El’s forearm, the one resting on Max’s stomach, keeping her touch light so as not to wake her.

More time passes, and Max’s head feels heavy with sleep that won’t come. She’s groggy, leaning back but unable to keep her eyes closed.

She starts talking. Whispering. Remembering the times she read Wonder Woman comics to El until she fell asleep, and hoping, somewhere in her foggy brain, that it might work on herself too.

“You know… I always knew we’d be good friends. The second I heard your name I wanted to know you,” she murmurs, and draws a star on El’s wrist. “Didn’t know how badly I wanted until I saw you though. You were terrifying, and I loved it. And now…” Her eyes slide closed as she thinks. “You’re the best person I’ve ever met. You’re beautiful. Everything about you. And I love you…more than I should.” She sighs, sits in silence and cards her fingers through El’s hair. It’s getting so long.  

El’s hand closes around her wrist.

Max’s eyes fly open, and she stills, heart pounding. “Uh.” El’s eyes are open, looking up at her, she’s awake, she’s awake, oh fuck– “Um. Did—did I wake you up, I’m—sorry if I woke you—”

“It’s okay.” The corners of her mouth turn up, slow and careful, “I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

“Oh.” Is all Max can manage, staring down at El with wide eyes, waiting for her to…do something. Max’s palms are sweating. She doesn’t know what to expect.

El moves her hand, puts Max’s palm against her cheek and shuffles forward until they’re nose to nose.

“Oh.”

She tastes like toothpaste and kiwi lip balm, and kisses as sweetly as she smiles. Her hands end up in Max’s hair, fingers gentle but demanding, guiding her forward. If Max wasn’t already laying down, she’d need to be because her knees are jelly.

“Oh,” El echoes when she pulls back, laughter in her voice. She presses a chaste kiss to the corner of Max’s mouth, careful and deliberate. Then her expression softens, sobers. “I was jealous of you. At first. Didn’t…know what it was. Know why. So, I ignored you. And… I’m sorry.”

Max shakes her head, “Ancient history. It’s okay.”

“No, I,” El stops, furrows her brow, “You were so happy. Free. I wanted that. And then, then you helped me have that. So. Thank you.” She cups Max’s face, fingertips tracing along her cheekbone, and Max’s heart sings. “And I love you too.”

They kiss again, and Max decides that El sleeping on the floor would’ve been a terrible idea.

#elmax #elmax fanfic #stranger things #el hopper #max mayfield #i couldn't resist the little bits about max mourning her brother because im a masochist apparently #if anyone was wondering the earring max is wearing is 100% billy's #and joyce knows neil is The Worst which is why she's concerned about max #making sure he isn't treating her how he used to treat billy #yeah #ALSO #susan being all overprotective? #is because of billy #like. he might not have been her kid but he was something to her yknow? #and now he's gone #and she gotta deal w that somehow #and shes dealing with it by clinging extra hard to the kid she's got left #THAT'S TOO MANY SAD HEADCANONS TO PUT IN ONE FLUFFY SLEEPOVER FIC WHY AM I LIKE THIS #anyway apparently posting my writing is a thing i do now so i need a tag #a raven's writing desk #because i'm real pretentious dont @ me lmao

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Weird “Pet Peeves”

Don’t forget to comment with what your weirdest pet peeve is, and also a reminder that I am open to prompts if you have them, no need to ask permission :) 

Also a book update. Chapter 2 of the book has been with my beta readers for a few days, so I might be able to post it soon, so look forward to that.

Unlike other species, humans fall on a wide spectrum of temperaments from happy and laid back to angry and aggressive. As would only be logical, humans on either end of the spectrum can be easily annoyed or difficult to annoy, but there is one interesting fact about ALL humans laid back or aggressive; they have a list of small inconsequential things that will make them inordinately angry at the drop of a hat (Of course some of them may not be inconsequential, but I find that they tend to be). They call these pet peeves. You might assume that these would be large things relating to improper social behavior, or something similar, but most of them are just unfathomably unimportant. And, while a human isn’t likely to act out their anger on these, they will probably dislike you forever, or  if it doesn't involve you they will go out of their way to avoid the thing that annoys them.

I asked the humans this question about their pet peeves, and this is the ist that I received.

Commander Vir: Um, well that is a good question, I have a few of curse, who doesn’t. Um I hate it when my nails are cut short, and I have to touch some sort of grainy fabric, like velvet for instance. I mean I absolutely HATE velvet to begin with its like if you skinned Satan and made curtains out of him, and now you are going to make e touch it with the most sensitive part of my body…. *shivers* nope, no thank you. The only place velvet should exist is as red velvet cake. 

 Or, or…. *the human grows more agitated now* how about when people are CONSTANTLY late, and then you talk to them about it and they are all like *human changes to an annoyingly high voice* ‘sorry that's like, just how I am, the world is like, to focused on being late, well I have trouble waking up, and they just don’t understand me’ like BITCH SHUT UP and get to work ON TIME dear lord in heaven! You are WASTING MY TIME and the time of everyone else here by being LATE! *human clears throat awkwardly* um sorry….. I also hate it when people use like too much, I don’t know if you got that one….. I mean it is TOTALLY fine in simili, but when you just throw it in there. 

*he pauses to think* OH! One last thing, people who walk slowly in crowded hallways. You know sometimes I just have the urge to take a running start and shoulder check all those slow walking assholes into the floor and then go over them like a speed bump….. Is that an over reaction? 

Lieutenant Keita: Oh, do I have a list for you. Mouth noises, always mouth noises, I don’t care what it is, if I can hear you chewing, breathing, yawning, or coughing excessively, I just become filled with this…. This OVERWHELMING desire to hurt you. Like just close your DAMN mouth and stop eating like an ABSOLUTE COW! And those people who constantly chew gum, like no one is in greater need of a throat punch especially when you are having one of those bad days and you just hate everyone.

Speaking of especially, it's pronounced ESPECIALLY not EXPECIALLY, Like even grown ass adults have no idea what they are doing, and it just drives me insane just GTFO out of my life and get an education.

Also anyone who feels the need to say ‘basically’ in front of everything they say just needs to basically go and die! 

*humans eyes narrow* but of all the things I hate most of all…. irreguardless , that isn’t a fucking word. We have been doing this shit for 2000 years, and people are still saying this. Regardless means despite something, however if you add an ir in front of it, it's like a double negative which makes it NOT regardless you backwater sludge troll. 

*she takes a deep breath* I don’t know why this makes me so mad.

Corporal Ramirez: How about when my girlfriend says she isn’t hungry, but as soon as I get my meal she INSISTS on stealing my food. I mean seriously, if you wanted food you should have just ORDERED some food, these are my fries, get your own. I will pay for you to have your own, but you may not say that you don’t want any and then immediately take mine…. Unacceptable.

*the human rolls his eyes* Oh and don’t get my STARTED on astrology people. Listen guys it’s 4010 we KNOW that you aren't being a bitch because venus is in retrograde. Or when some backwards ass person stabs you in the back and is all ‘lol ssry its because im a candy-corn or a cheerio or a zebra. Like what the hell does that even mean! 

Or when they complain about things that can easily be fixed, or is totally their fault. Like when they are all cold and complain about it, and somehow, its impolite for YOU to say, well sorry you should have brought a coat, but I’m not giving you mine.

Sgt. Kae: Kids, whistling, people who have a special set of dishes that are for decoration and not for eating.

Systems officer Johnson: People who have mustaches, like seriously dude, people think your a pedo, everyone thinks your a pedo, or an 80s porn star, and not in a good way. Beard is totally fine, beard can even be hot, but the mustache is just creepy as hell. On that same line though, I absolutely hate it when guys with beards won’t shut up about their beards. It's like as soon as they see another guy, its beard wax or beard oil, or how anyone without a beard is just a little girl. Or when you tell them you don’t like beards and they take it as a personal offence to their honor and then tell you you just haven't been with a real man, and you would grow to like it. NO, no I will NOT!

People listening to stuff in pubic without headphones.

Or how about when people who sing take a song that you like and then add a ton of unnecessary runs to show off. Like thanks, you absolute trash bag, you went took my favorite song and ruined it. Like I will always love youuuuuuuoooooooahhhaooooahhaoooooooaaaaaahhhhooooo. It sounds like trash and it doesn't make you talented, so please go away.

Cadet Leu; Having something stuck in my teeth, people who leave the lights on, people who are indecisive, or when you are watching a movie and the dialogue is really quiet but the action scenes vibrate your insides at the same volume. 

I have found that it is completely plausible to develop a pet peeve if you spend long enough with humans. And you want to know what my pet peeve is…… do you really want to know?

Humans 

#humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #humans are weird #earth is a deathworld #Earth is space Ausralia