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d2kvirus · 10 months

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Dickheads of the Month: June 2023

As it seems that there are people who say or do things that are remarkably dickheaded yet somehow people try to make excuses for them or pretend it never happened, here is a collection of some of the dickheaded actions we saw in the month of June 2023 to make sure that they are never forgotten.

Who could have guessed that OceanGate sending people to the Titanic wreck in a steel tube that can only be opened from outside, which is operated with a knockoff Xbox controller, that has no communications system or a rescue beacon in case of trouble could go wrong?

...although why The Sun and Daily Mail splashed that over their front pages the following morning, rather than their boy Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson having several hundred people vote to agree he was a liar does post a few pertinent questions

...and then billionaire manchild Elon Musk had a meltdown all because Snopes pointed out that Starlink were providing the internet support for the ship the death tube submarine was launched from. But on the plus side, at least he didn’t accuse anyone mounting the rescue operation of being a paedophile, so I guess that counts as personal growth

...and then along came proven liar Boris Johnson to use his Daily Mail column to waffle some utter bollocks about “pushing human frontiers” instead of “rich people having a jolly at something which was discovered in the mid-1980s” all as an excuse to have a pop at his political opponents...sorry, let me narrow that down, his left-wing political opponents, given both sides of the aisle are sick and fucking tired of him at this point

The tantrum thrown by proven liar Boris Johnson when he reached the “...and find out” part of the transaction after he was found to have breached ministerial code, lied to parliament, and when facing a potential suspension he resigned as an MP so he could harrumph about Harriet Harman having it in for him as if the five Tories on the panel also didn't vote for him being a sociopathic fuckwit who thinks the rules don't apply to him while pretending he was thrown out by an undemocratic cabal while coincidentally dodging a by-election

...with sycophants such as Andrea Jenkyns and Brendan Clarke Smith eager to prove their mettle as proven liar Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson's versions of Lauren Boebert and Marjorie Taylor Greene

...and yet in spite of Jacob Rees Mogg and Lia Nici (to name but two) all talking a big game prior to the vote that proven liar Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson was an honest and decent man, when the vote came they abstained en masse, leaving him with just seven votes saying he wasn't a bullshitter

In the mind of Luke Akehurst sharing a stage with Ken Loach is now grounds to be dismissed from Keir Starmer’s Labour Party and not, say, deciding that Jamie Driscoll - the democratically elected as mayor of North Tyne - is not good enough to be included on the longlist for the prospective Mayor of the North East as they want another Blairite drone installed, and may as well tar Ken Loach as an antisemite in the process when scrambling to give a reason

...and yet when Keir Starmer’s Labour Party were asked for the reasoning for Discoll not being considered they fobbed that off with saying they wouldn't comment on individual cases...while “a source” repeated the incoherent babble about Ken Loach which echoed what Luke Akehurst and Lee Harpin were posting to their personal Twitter accounts on the subject to the letter

...and then it was the turn of Paul Richards to state the Starmerite case with an appearance on Newsnight where he debated Driscoll...if by “debated” you mean yelling pre-prepared soundbites at him while dodging Driscoll’s direct questions about what rules he had broken or if he was calling Ken Loach an antisemite, while also acting like an arrogant twunt not least when he leterally said “I know more about the North East than you” or comparing Driscoll to David Brent in a line he was sure sounded more cutting when Akehurst and/or Harpin handed him the piece of paper with the comment written on it

Ultra-relatable nice guy Rishi Sunak decided to prove what an ultra-relatable nice guy he is by suggesting to people concerned that their mortgages would be increasing yet again hold their nerve as opposed to, oh I don’t know, his neck between their ever-constricting hands

Billionaire manchild Elon Musk got Pride Month off to a great start by planning to force a notification to every Twitter user when Matt Walsh’s transphobic documentary went live on the platform - and when Twitter's brand security manager told him that was a fucking insane idea, Musk forced them to resign

...and by the end of Pride Month billionaire manchild Elon Musk decided that the words “cis” and “cisgender” were slurs and using them would lead to an immediate Twitter ban, all because one of the right-wing meatbags that he's desperate to appeal to as nobody else is dumb enough to pay to use a free social media platform cried about being called cis, but remember the billionaire manchild is all about that FREEZE PEACH

One question about Matt Walsh and that transphobic documentary of his: why does he show so many pictures of naked minors?

Frowning thumb Joe Rogan somehow manages to be pig ignorant about vaccines and how they work, yet also knows full well what he's doing when he’s siccing his followers into harassing Dr Peter Hotez to the point they show up to Hotez’s house and films themselves yelling incoherently at him all because he refused to appear on Rogan's podcast alongside Robert Kennedy Jr for fear of giving Kennedy and his utterly batshit opinions credibility - especially as Rogan would, by balance of probability, have been backing up Kennedy throughout

Not only is Kari Lake still screaming that she didn't lose the Arizona gubernatorial election last November, she's now also screaming about Donald Trump being charged with breaking the law and started babbling like a crazy person about using the NRA as a militia to overturn whatever verdict

In the space of a week Keir Starmer’s Labour Party twice got caught trying to bury bad news when attention was elsewhere, firstly by ditching their green energy pledge when Trump was arraigned under the misguided belief that papers wouldn't be looking to put anything but Trump being arraigned on the front pages, and then ditching their Universal Childcare pledge when proven liar Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson was harrumphing out of Commons

...and a week later Keir Starmer’s Labour Party were at it again, sneaking out that they were backing out of the North Sea oil pledge just as the video of the Tory HQ pissup from December 2020 was released to the public

To nobody's surprise Suella Braverman was not happy when the Rwanda deportation policy was ruled unlawful. Also to nobody;s surprise, her response was the exact sort of buzzwords Tufton Street handed to her which would also be on the front page of the next day's Daily Mail

Barking MP Margaret Hodge definitely does not like it when anybody suggests her talk where she howled about people with “different faces” and “different food” moving into middle class areas sound remarkably like Margaret Hodge being comfortably racist in her centrist safe space

Of course Nadine Dorries is the sort of person who will show up on TalkTV saying she won't trigger a by-election even if she were elevated to the House of Lords - and then a few hours later trigger a by-election by announcing her immediate resignation as an MP as she wasn't elevated to the House of Lords

...only for it to turn out that, while Nadine Dorries made a big song and dance of her immediate resignation to any TV channel that would give her an inordinate amount of time to screech about resigning, she hadn't actually gone through with the tedious details of actually resigning

...and then Nadine Dorries started demanding all the evidence from the enquiry that saw her precious BoBo found to have been guilty of the things he was caught doing multiple times, because she wanted to perform her own investigation - and did I mention she still hasn't resigned after saying she was resigning with immediate effect?

...and then in stomped Lee Harpin to yell at any journalists who reported on the words which Hodge had said, because apparently it is not in the matter of public interest to report a sitting MP using a pet shop’s worth of dogwhistles in a speech and asking if Keir Starmer’s Labour Party intended to actually say or do something about this

In the space of 24 hours the BBC interviewed Andrew Tate and Philip Schofield, meaning that they platformed somebody who is on rape charges in the UK and a litany of charges including people smuggling in Romania, then somebody who is in the public eye because GB News would rather talk about that story (with heavy homophobic overtones) than dare mention the whole “Tories being bigger shits than usual over that Covid inquiry” thing that is actually headline news

...which looked particularly good when Andrew Tate was charged with rape and human trafficking by Romanian authorities three weeks after the BBC interview. Funny how BBC Verify wasn't brought up at that moment, eh?

The grown-up in politics that is Keir Starmer showed just what a political grown-up he is by harrumphing that children should not identify as cats - in other words, regurgitating that culture war bollocks Katharine Birbalsingh has been spouting for months almost word-for-word that we’ve also seen GB News pick up on, all pretending the source isn't some American alt-right douche twisting schools having cat litter in classrooms so kids have somewhere to pee when the school is in lockdown due to there being an active shooter into the usual gender-based culture war bollocks

...although that didn't stop Kemi Badenoch demanding a snap Ofsted inspection of the school where nobody identified as a cat contrary to what Birbalsingh of GB News repeatedly claimed even after it was proven the entire story was complete and utter bollocks

Quite the stance from Rick Scott when saying that anybody who does not share his exact political ideology is not welcome to live of vacation in Florida, then banging on about liking “freedom” in the same sentence

We have reached the point where Rosie Duffield feels empowered enough to tweet out casual transphobia knowing that Keir Starmer’s Labour Party won't do a damn thing about it, since they haven’t done a damn thing about the numerous complaints of her homophobia and transphobia before

The lack of self-awareness from Lance Armstrong when he decided to get in on the anti-trans grift and deciding the platform he'd use was to wail about fairness in sports is quite astounding, given the amount of asterisks the Tour de France now has entirely because Lance was so disinterested in fairness in sports he took so many steroids his balls shrivelled up and died

Washed-up husk of a sitcom star Roseanne Barr decided to try for the double whammy of not only denying that the Holocaust happened, but saying that the Holocaust should have happened due to Jews causing all the problems in the world. Gee, I wonder why her career is deader than a diplodocus...?

The one thing that GB News shows any form of aptitude for is sinking even lower, as ably demonstrated by Lewis Schaffer saying on air that Covid doesn't exist and government aides know this - leading to Leo Kerse trying to diffuse the situation (and desperately try to avoid Ofcom fines) by claiming this was a joke when it clearly wasn't, while drawing attention to the fact Kerse was sat there looking gormless as Schaffer said it

There was two issues with Fiona Bruce blurting out that Question Time vets audience member’s social media before letting them on: firstly that’s creepy as fuck, and secondly if they vetted people’s social media then they should be able to tell if somebody is a Tory councillor or has stood for election as a member of the National Front, but apparently that slips their attention quite a lot

...especially the following week, where Question Time thought nobody would notice UKIP’s Cain Griffiths was in the audience and, by complete coincidence, was given the first question of the night where he said something remarkably dogwhistly about Rishi Sunak

Thanks to Philip Collins we know there is a place for racism in Keir Starmer’s Labour party: as Starmer’s speechwriter, given Collins responded to Rishi Sunak tweeting in support of England at the Ashes by dogwhistling very fucking loudly about how Sunak should be supporting India - and when called on it, said his half-Indian children support India as if that somehow counters telling somebody born in Southampton they can't support England

Once again the BBC proved just how spineless they are by benching Clive Myrie from hosting their news programming because he made jokes about proven liar Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson when hosting Have I Got News For You - that is the HIGNFY which the BBC legal department reviewed the script for prior to the taping, the taping which was a day before the BBC aired the episode, so had plenty of opportunities to remove the “offensive” material if they so wished - but, of course, before it aired the Daily Mail hadn't had the chance to whinge and the BBC overcompensated in a way that only serves to make them look both weak and totalitarian - just as they did with Gary Lineker

Perhaps if Brendan Clarke-Smith spent a fraction of the energy he puts into yelling on Twitter at women who criticise him into being an MP, maybe his constituents wouldn’t already be planning for life after him

Soon-to-be-convict Andrew Tate decided to share his wisdom with the world and says that depression isn't a real thing. That sound you heard was innumerous people bookmarking that tweet, ready to quote it back to him for the inevitable “I’m so depressed in jail” whining he’ll be giving us soon enough

...and then billionaire manchild Elon Musk parroted those same arguments, and as is typical of him he attempted to pass the comments off as his own because all he can do is copy, paste, or do a racism

Waffling gargoyle Nigel Farage was quite upset that his bank wants nothing more to do with him or his business. Of course, what he neglected to mention was his account is with Coutts, which has just the one branch and you need to have savings worth at least £3m to open an account, as that little detail wouldn't fit in with pretending he isn't a grifting turd with a lot of gullible saps making it possible for him to open an account with Coutts that £500,000 worth of Russian money can be deposited into

How can Chelsea Mitchell be the “fastest girl in Connecticut” as she has dubbed herself when she came sixth in a race which featured one trans athlete - a trans athlete who didn't win the race, who Mitchell had beaten in races several times that season, and contrary to Mitchell’s claims had no role in her failing to get a scholarship - due to the minor fact that Mitchell had already got the scholarship she claims to have been denied. But no, may as well get on that Riley Gaines grift instead

Failed nepo baby Lawrence Fox not only seemed to be weirdly determined to make Pride Month all about himself, but spent Fathers Day lurching around all on his lonesome on his patio burning Pride flags and posting the video of him doing so to his Twitter

No, seriously, why did Colleen Ballinger think the best way to address grooming allegations was to whip out a ukelele and sing for ten minutes while skipping over that whole “apologising” part of an apology video - and then release the apology singalong a second time, but with better reverb?

The paupers at Disney are apparently so hard up for cash that, rather than pay somebody to create the opening titles for Secret Invasion, instead they just used AI art, which is really good to know just before they hike the subscription fee for their streaming platform

Perhaps if Time did their research they wouldn't have run the headline suggesting the Kakhova Dam collapse could be Ukraine's Chernobyl, what with Chernobyl being Ukraine's Chernobyl and all that

...although the New York Times decided to one-up them with a headline about Alternative für Deutschland staging a comeback meaning the far-right have taken control of Germany for the first time

Beanie-wearing testicle Tim Pool got so wound up at Tom Morello bringing up the German saying that if nine people sit at a table with a Nazi without protest meaning there are ten Nazis at the table (I wonder why that triggered Tim so much...?) that he responded in the only way he knew how: by recording a cover of Killing in the Name so cringe-inducing that it's barely worth pointing out that it's obvious he doesn't even know what the song’s about

...and because beanie-wearing testicle Tim Pool is such a mature and serious person, the mere suggestion that his cringe-inducing cover version of Killing in the Name has shitty audio is enough to get him red-faced and ranting about a psy-op which meddled with its audio somehow, which is one of the many reasons his interview with Emma Vigeland was hilarious even before the beanie-wearing testicle started crying on his own show

It was quite amusing to see the far-centre extremists ranting and raving about the Percy Shelley poem which Jeremy Corbyn tweeted, because they are that far removed from common sense that they see Corbyn tweet something so immediately assume it was his work and so must be chastised and criticised immediately - which worked out so well for them that even The Guardian said they were being moronic

Perhaps the Tories shouldn't let Oliver Dowden handle PMQs anymore if the best he can offer is trying to make a direct comparison between the £200m+ of taxpayer’s moneys that (Tory peer) Michelle Mone siphoned off into her bank accounts with Angela Rayner claiming a pair of Air Pods on her expenses

And finally, there’s registered sex offender Donald Trump completely and utterly losing his shit to being charged for stashing classified documents by his toilet in his bathroom, which for some reason has a chandelier in it

#dickheads of the month

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flylikeanarend · 1 year

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November 26

Patrick had left Indras place and was on his way home, he needed to go see Xeno. He tried not to hurry and thought of Indra, she was probably doing the same thing, just trying not to walk to fast. In the midst of all these worrying things, he could not help but have a big smile on his face. Indra liked him, it still had to like really sink in, he wanted it so badly and he somehow did not think it would be possible, but it seemed like she liked him too. He felt all warm inside and he felt incredibly happy, he never could have imagined her telling him just like that. He had imagined several different romantic occasions, where he carefully chooses the rights words to ask her out or even probe if this would be on option, and not all that is just gone, it’s for real now she likes him. He turned right, last minute, he would have walked by his own house just now. He had to laugh; he was almost dancing instead of walking. He lived in one of the lesser quality housing complexes, just cameras everywhere, but his friend Xeno, who lived here as well, had taken care of that, somewhere just playing in eternal loop. He went to his place first and quickly changed into his workout gear, he had some workout equipment in the basement, and Alice really encouraged people to do calm sports, to keep healthy. Few things were allowed, but cycling was allowed, so he pretended to go do that. Once in the basement, he walked by the bicycle and quickly disappeared behind a hidden door, just a quick fingerprint on a seemingly plain brick wall and it opened and closed without a sound. It was all Xeno’s doing, he was a genius with computers, robots, electrical installations, and many more other things. He had evaded capture so far, which was the only thing one needed to know about him, to realize his skills. Patrick took another elevator down, he always felt like entering the Batcave. Xeno loved Batman and so he loved making stuff like in the movie. Patrick had known Xeno a long time, he used work for the tec department of the CIA but Alice cleaned up that department, and there had been an enormous agency crisis and some of the best agents got away and hid. They had seen it coming, something was not right, so many had disappeared or were held somewhere, nobody knew. Xeno knew more, but he never shared that part with Patrick, the less he knew the better. Patrick was wise enough not to ask to many questions. He admired Xeno, he was the smartest guy he ever met. He walked out of the elevator in a rather big underground cave style room, it seemed empty, until he put his finger on another device which was well cloaked and looked in to a tiny whole and gave in a code. Three different identification systems were in place, and then the emptiness of the room disappeared, it was just a holographic decoy, just in case someone else came down here, they would see nothing, not even the robots. Xeno saw Patrick and almost ran to him, he had a huge smile on his face, I found him, he said, I found him, I knew it... Patrick looked puzzled...

X: Remember I told you something was of with Alice, she acted weird...

P: Yet, but she is like this evil-minded artificial intelligence, so, yeah…

X: You never knew her like I did, I knew the head programmer, Patrick, and he died a mysterious death, and I always thought, someone framed Alice for that, why would she do that, killing was just not a part of her programming.

P: What do you mean, is there someone else involved

X: Yes, Patrick and I found it, I found him, it’s Albert, remember him...

P: I am not sure, did he like not retire, I remember vaguely reading something about someone’s son dying and then there was this court case, but I did not follow up on it, but this is like ages ago

X: it’s him Patrick, I am sure of it, he has the skills, I just could not prove it, but something happened while I was trying to get Jade out of Prison.

P: What, you did what, are you insane...

X: I know, Patrick, it did not work, I send in one of the tiny drones, the ones the cameras cannot pick up, but the human eye can. Normally it’s the other way around, but robots and cameras have difficulties with Flies and other flying insects, so in certain areas like prisons, the cameras only pick up objects above a certain size, they had way to many false alarms, prisoners started breeding flies, just to cause false alarms, my genius plan by the way, and at some point the guards and the robots and Alice got tired of it, and they changed it.

P: yes, but they have robot flies right, like robots who look exactly like insects, so those can get by..

X: No, Patrick, they make sounds, and it’s impossible to fake the sound of a real fly, so mine are completely soundless, so they cannot be picked up by Alice

P: Okay, so what happened to Jade

X: I was just about to lead him out of his cell, when this robot came, and I could not find this one, I got into the Alice Beehive, and that one was like going rogue, so this robot came and was about to kidnap Jade I believe. First, I thought, that there was maybe another hacker collective, but no, I checked that. And you know what, that robot suddenly stopped, and turned around and took Jade back to his cell. It’s like Alice noticed she had lost him, and he was doing something, and then she took over and just took Jade back, and then the robot went back to his charging station and then nothing. So, with my mini drone, I followed to robot to the charging system, because if I was lucky, the initial comment must have gone through there, and if I got lucky, I would catch it. So, I downloaded all the latest info and managed to get my drone back.

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rolliae · 2 years

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Current version of audacity for mac

#Current version of audacity for mac how to

#Current version of audacity for mac mac os x

#Current version of audacity for mac update

#Current version of audacity for mac upgrade

#Current version of audacity for mac software

#Current version of audacity for mac how to

Henry on How to Install Firefox as a DEB Package on Ubuntu 22.04 Question: What if I want to install development version (firefox-dev)?.

#Current version of audacity for mac upgrade

Bill on Linux Mint 21 Review: A Considerable Upgrade Whilst Blueberry is more stable then Blueman, I have found that when Blueberry fails….

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#Current version of audacity for mac update

Error reporting and basic system information collection is opt-in, but automatic update checking (which sends your IP address to them at every usage) is opt-out. Update: The developers behind Audacity shared an announcement that their privacy policy page was “misunderstood” due to poor wording in it, and that they will rewrite it to avoid possible confusion. Read more about the Audacity fork, and how you can help in creating it.

#Current version of audacity for mac software

Users on GitHub and Reddit are calling to fork Audacity, which will probably happen soon after all of these controversies.īy doing these suspicious activities, the people behind Audacity and Muse Group have shown their selves to be unworthy of the trust of the open source community, and hence, the software should be abandoned and disposed from Linux distributions’ repositories. Various angry reactions were spotted in the open source community. If you want to stay away from such things, then stay away from Audacity. One would not expect an offline desktop application to be collecting such data, phoning-home and then handing that data to governments around the world whenever they see fit. Muse Group, after acquiring Audacity, introduced a CLA where it requires anyone wishing to send a pull request to the original source code to agree on giving them unlimited and unrestricted rights to own the modified lines of code. Things which should not have been possible with an offline audio editor. Real IP addresses of users remain for 1 day on Audacity’s servers before they are hashed, and hence, practical user identification is possible if one of the mentioned governments sends a data request. If you are under 13 years old, please do not use the App. The App we provide is not intended for individuals below the age of 13. Moreover, the same page contains a shallow attempt to prevent kids under age of 13 from using the application, which is a violation of the GPL license (The license under which Audacity is released) because GPL prevents any restrictions on the usage of software: However, we are occasionally required to share your personal data with our main office in Russia and our external counsel in the USA.Īdditionally, they state that they might share the data with anyone they classify as a “third-party”, “advisors” or “potential buyers”: Which is basically Russia, USA and the EEA zone:Īll your personal data is stored on our servers in the European Economic Area (EEA). It states for example that it can hand any user data to state regulators where it is located: The updated privacy policy page (which was uploaded 2 days ago) for Audacity includes a wide range of data collection mechanisms. While Audacity is nothing more than a desktop program, its developers want to make it phone home with various data taken from users’ machines. The parent company is a multi-national company and it has been trying to start a data-collection mechanism in the software. The same company owns other projects in its portfolio such as Ultimate Guitar (Famous website for Guitar enthuisasts) and MuseScore (Open source music notation software).Įver since, Audacity has been a heated topic. Any of the above conditions can be waived if you get permission from us.The famous open source audio manipulation program was acquired by a company named Muse Group two months ago. For any reuse or distribution, you must make clear to others the license terms of this work. In essence, you are free to (1) copy, distribute and transmit the work (2) to adapt the work, under condition you must attribute the work to the authors (but not in any way that suggests that they endorse you or your use of the work).

#Current version of audacity for mac mac os x

Representative images of Audacity running on Mac OS X and Linux are also included.Ĭopyright: Unless otherwise noted, all pages in this Manual are available under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 license. Under its default settings on the Microsoft Windows 7® operating system. Screenshots: Unless otherwise stated, screenshots in this Manual are of Audacity running We are not responsible for the content of any other external sites. Other italicised links are to pages external to this Manual, mostly to our main web site or Wiki. Bold italicized links are to a description in our Glossary. Links: Most links are to other pages in this Manual.

#Current version of audacity for mac

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djarrex · 3 years

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So I was wondering, how was rex and reader first kiss, and also the first time they’d slept together? I loved that story about how they met!! I’m genuinely curious

!!Yessssss :’)

Ok, so for anyone who hasn’t read their first meeting/first date, I’ll link it here. Previously, I had included a little bit of their first date in one of the main installments/chapters as a flashback scene during Priya’s birth and you can find that here.

Find the rest in the Post-Order 66 Rex ML

I’ll pick this up from when they’re riding in the taxi on the way to reader’s apartment (from flashback scene found in second link)

18+ only! dry humping, heavy makeout sesh, groping, non-descriptive sex, piv sex, maybe just a hint of ‘first time’ awkwardness but... y’know. overall, Rex is a caring sweetheart. about 2.9k words #Carried Away

<<<>>>

The back of Rex’s hand, the gauntlet plate, that is, lands on your bare thigh - his gloved palm upright and waiting, fingers relaxed. You can’t help your wide smile that grows upon noticing the gesture accompanied by his unsure, yet confident expression as you gladly lay your hand within his - fingers locking into place.

"Is... this okay?"

So considerate, appropriately cautious, cute.

You lock eyes with his, making it a point when your tongue barely darts out to wet your lower lip while giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. His lips curl at the corners - a little chuckle seeping through his nostrils before turning his head to watch the streaks of lights fly by outside the transparisteel. The ride isn’t very long, but it’s nearly silent. It must be late enough for the driver to have long surpassed the point of wanting to engage in light conversation, thankfully so, and the music is turned down to the lowest volume - just light pulse of a beat coming from the tiny speaker. The whir of the vessel gliding through the air lanes hums throughout the interior, along with the heavy beat of your heart in your ears. Your fingers stay intertwined with Rex’s the entire time. At one point, briefly, his thumb started to absentmindedly brush back and forth over the thick knuckle of yours, and caught himself when the the taxi slowed to halt as it pulled in front of your complex.

Rex scoots out first - extending his hand towards you and helping you out of the seat and onto the duracrete. As you lean into the taxi’s opening to toss the driver some credits, Rex watches the way you move - the way even the miniscule muscles flex underneath your form-fitting dress and with the movement of what skin is exposed. A sudden breeze catches him off guard when that familiar scent of lavender coming from your hair hits him just like it did back on the dancefloor. His own heart is pounding uncontrollably beneath the protective shell of plastoid, though he’s sure you can hear it. Your hearts mirror one another’s tonight - anxious, eager, sure, ready.

It's quiet after the taxi speeds off. It's late, and the two of you stand just outside the complex entrance in silence, facing one another and staring deep into each other's eyes. There’s a whole bunch being said, without any words actually being spoken. It’s insane the way Rex is just pulling you in without laying so much as a finger on you right now; his gravitational pull is far too strong for you to resist, not that you’re trying to resist. You want to get dragged into his orbit, burn up upon skirting through his atmosphere. That connection... it’s so noticeably there and it’s making your legs weak - weight settling in the back of your head, pushing you forward and closing the space between your faces. You know it’s affecting him just as it’s affecting you. There is no escape, though neither one of you is trying to flee.

“Is... this o-”

Rex is unable to echo his question from the taxi once the remaining space between the two of you quickly vanishes. When your lips meet his for the very first time, something just clicks - like two missing pieces from a puzzle that you didn’t even know were absent have just come together and completed it, effectively ending its drawn-out hiatus. You’re sure there are better analogies out there with deeper meaning but it’s hard to think with how wrapped up in him you’re becoming with something as simple as a ‘first kiss’. Your arms flying to wrap around his neck, Rex pulls you closer - his fingers gripping the fabric at your hips and holding you close. A heavy breath escapes from him and you take the opportunity to poke your tongue out to be immediately greeted by his own. It’s medium-paced; not desperate nor casual. The dance you share with the light clashing of teeth, the rhythm that’s set with every little movement of the muscles in your mouths - it’s just right.

When you move to break away, panting, your eyes quickly dart to the building standing tall to the right of you before they quickly return to his. An overt cue...

“Do you wan-”

...One of which Rex takes swift action.

“Yes.” Rex didn’t need for you to finish that line; he was already way ahead of you, and was somehow starting to believe you’d never ask. Any nerves of his have long since vanished, as well as any notion of sleep - other, more exciting things urging him on. He knows where he’ll be waking up in the morning, and it’s not on that bedroll in the barracks that he was practically dreaming of back at 79′s before he’d laid eyes on you. For once, the clone captain will allow himself to indulge in what this night holds.

The two of you are unable to keep your hands to yourselves during the brief ride in the lift up to your floor. Rex holds you impossibly close, hands pressed into your lower back and practically carrying your floating body through the corridors until arriving at your front door; you’d murmured the directions into his lips along the way. With your back pressed against it, your hand swings behind to blindly input the access code. After a few incorrect entries before hearing the musical awarded access, the door slides open, and your fingers wrap around the dip at the top of his cuirass - pulling him to follow you in. You make it as far as the couch, pushing him down to sit as you descend with him, your mouths staying connected in the process. Rex sinks into the cushions, and his hands begin rove your body experimentally from where you’re straddled over his armored lap. You’re melting into his touch, rocking yourself over the hardness of his codpiece, letting the curve of it rub into your clothed heat as his lips trail wet hot down your chin and jaw.

Never had you previously allowed a night like this to get as far with anyone else.

“I don’t...” Rex pauses as soon as the words leave you - lifting from your neck and meeting your eyes with a flash of concern sinking in his own. “I don’t usually do this, uh, sort of thing,” you elaborate quickly, your hands gesturing to the current situation - nervous, for some odd reason, even though your mind is very made up. His expression softens and a sweet smile creeps on his lips as he traces your own with the pad of his now bare thumb - the touch featherlight, admiring. “I just- just thought I should clear that up.” You’re not sure what it is exactly that you’re clearing up; perhaps you’re afraid that Rex thinks you’re one of those clone groupies, a woman who frequents 79′s to show her appreciation for the brave soldiers of the Republic. Or maybe that you’re someone who often fucks on the first date, just to be casted aside in the morning or the one who does the casting aside. The look he’s giving you, though, as he gazes up at you with something within his eyes that you can’t yet translate, is leading you to believe that he doesn’t put you into any of those categories - didn’t, from the very moment he’d laid eyes on you.

“Mesh’la,” he breathes against your jaw - the foreign-sounding word completely unknown to you but making you clench all the same - the shape of it forming on his lips and pressing into your tender skin. “The same goes for me. I... don’t wanna do anything that’ll scare you away.”

“And here I am thinking that I’m the one coming on too strong too fast,” you jest. Sure, it has only been a single, incomplete night of knowing him, but as silly and cliché as it sounds, it honest to Maker feels like you’ve known him forever. Normally, you’d conclude that allowing yourself to think that would more than likely end up biting you in the ass in the near future, but you truly don’t think that would be the case this time. Not with him.

“Rex...” Breaking from his lips for a breather and cradling the curve of his cheekbones within your hands, you look deep into his kind eyes, searching for the answer to the question you have yet to ask. “Have you ever...?”

“Yes, yes. It, uh, was always quick... when I did.” Rex chews his cheek - his brows pinching together in unwarranted contrition. “I’m sorry,” he sighs.

“For?”

“I don’t want you to think-”

You cut him off with the hard press of your lips to his - grinding yourself down on his lap with a little more purpose. Anything he was about to say, any inhibitions, dissolves like sugar inside your mouth. Minutes crawl by. Maybe longer, you’re unsure; too lost in this milky euphoria to give a damn about something as complex and currently unimportant as time. Your body is on fire; the heat that radiates from his flesh even from under the armor envelopes you in a different kind of warmth. You find your own hands mapping out the parts of his body that aren’t shelled by a plastoid exterior, landing on the piece that you’ve been grinding yourself on since arriving.

“Can I take this off?” Rex peers down at your hand laying over his codpiece; his perfect pout glistening, eyes darkening - the black orbs nearly swallowing the warm honey they reside in as he begins to look you over.

“Please.”

If it wasn’t already a known fact that you’d never done this with someone like him before, then the way your fingers fumble around the plastoid in a blind search for the clasp - or whatever is holding this Maker forsaken thing in place - sure as hell gives it away. Sensing your evident struggle, Rex’s hand brushes over yours and the hindrance is unfastened in an instant. You raise a brow at him, and he only grins as you lean down to kiss him again.

Rex stands - your arms and legs squeezing him as he walks you to the bed, his erection teasing with its firm press against you. Laying you down on your back, he watches as you shimmy off the rest of your clothing. His breath catches in his throat upon your removal of your bra, eyes widening and fingers drumming at his sides, and you have to urge him to unfreeze so he can finishing undressing and join you.

“I... really want this,” he informs through heavy breaths - a hint of sheepishness engrained within the gruffness - finally moving to climb on the bed between your legs after stripping nearly everything from him and stacking it all in a neat pile. “You. Really want you.” You smile - the gleam reaching your eyes - and grab his arm to pull him on top of you. He’s still wearing his under-armor bottoms, and your hand shamelessly trails down to palm at the hard bulge from above the skin-tight material.

“I want this too, Rex. You.” He groans - husky and deep - taking a few moments to relish the way your hand feels as you massage him before making quick work to remove the only thing that’s left covering his beautiful body.

It takes you by complete surprise - his extraordinary size. The way it was trapped within the compression bottoms was totally misleading. You swallow a clump of dry air - your tummy tingling and heart racing at the sight of him now completely nude and in the process of climbing back into position.

“Maker...”

You say the most prominent and immediate thought out loud, causing him to stop in his tracks.

“What? Is everything okay, is- is this okay?” Rex becomes mildly frantic, concerned - just about to climb away but you grab at his shoulder, fingers pressing into the toned, corded flesh where it curves into the base of his neck at the back.

“Yes,” you sigh - astounded. “I just... you’re, um...” Your eyes remain glued to the erect, throbbing appendage standing at attention between his legs, noting how it curves slightly upwards at the tip and is aimed at your clenching heat. “You’re big, Rex.” When your eyes flicker back up to his, his brow is raised and his lips are pressed into a thin line. Like he doesn’t already fucking know how well-endowed he is.

Shutting your eyes and sighing quietly, your face stings from the sound of your breathy voice uttering out such truism. He shifts his weight between the arms that are caging you in on either side and looks down at himself - considering.

“I - uh-”

“It’s okay,” you chuckle with a quick nod of your head as you spread your legs wider with a slight roll of your hips. Your mound briefly brushes the hot, velvety skin along his shaft when you lift your hips again. Your abdomen involuntarily tightens upon noticing the length of him hovering over you, practically marking how deep inside he’ll be. “I need you, Rex.”

You learn quickly that you needn’t repeat a thing to an esteemed captain of his merit.

He prepares you, like any true gentleman would, getting your body ready to accept him fully. Licking, touching, sucking, prodding; it’s all so exquisitely slow, intricate, surprisingly good for someone who has had little to no experience in the arena of foreplay. Thick fingers work you open in deep, pleasant strokes - his knuckles knocking into the most tender and pleasurable tissue with every pass. Rex’s lips go from attending to your breasts and trailing along nearly every inch of your skin before reuniting with your own. He inadvertently works a mild orgasm from you from his delicate tongue and purposeful touch alone - the build-up a soft crescendo until you’re moaning his name in the most breathy voice you’ve ever entertained.

You’ve never felt so safe and cared for during moments like these; now is a whole different experience than what you’d encountered in the past. You don’t have an extensive list of previous partners, but all of the ones who had made your short list were boys. Immature, needy, desperate boys. Boys who could never compare to the man who’s currently breaching you with a very gentle roll of his hips laced with all the care in the galaxy. Not to mention, his size. In that alone Rex is unmatched.

Your lips barely disconnect; the soft whimpers and moans shared between the two of you are breathed into one another and swallowed. You’ve never experienced anything so tender yet deliberate at the same time - the combination of soft meeting its opposite making your head spin and toes curling. Nails forming small crescents indenting into his skin, you hang on to Rex’s broad shoulders as he rocks into you. It’s a steady pace he sets right from the get-go and he keeps that all the way up until your second orgasm flows through you, consequently causing a hint of resistance put up by your clenching walls, affecting his length’s repeating reentry. Not much is said, but a lot is spoken through eye contact. Neither of you want this to end, but when it inevitably does, you’d want to do this again. You want to do more than this; you both want to see each other again. When he finishes, it’s the gravelly, drawn-out groan falling out of his throat that causes you to see the stars from where they’re hung outside Coruscant’s orbit as if you’re sitting directly in front of them, just an arm’s length away.

You’re cleaned up in such a meticulous and tender way that only Rex could provide. He falls to your side - taking you with him as his strong arms wrap around your torso. It’s insane; the way you fell into each other earlier this evening is comparable to fate itself. You think you’re going crazy, that you’re feeling all these things only after having known Rex for less than several hours, that you’re diving into something too hard and too quickly.

“Do you feel it, too?”

You don’t know what possessed you to ask him instead of keeping it locked up in your buzzing mind, still keyed up from the best sex you’ve ever had, but it’s out there. Unable to see his face from your position, your heart starts racing with nerves, and in the several moments of silence and lingering regret, you mentally curse at yourself for being so forward.

“Yeah,” Rex says with a soft smile evident in his tone - a huge weight being lifted from your shoulders and tossed aside. “I do.”

With that, his arms hold you just a little tighter and he places a chaste kiss on your temple. It’s not long before the sound of soft snoring fills the otherwise quiet bedroom, and minutes later you’re right there alongside him - content, fluttering heart and all.

<<<>>>

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#once again. I got Carried Away #post-order 66 rex #djarrex writes #inbox #Rex Gayiyla #captain rex x reader #captain rex x f!reader #captain rex smut #star wars fic #request(?)#request

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mod--soul · 2 years

Text

~ Spoilers for The Book of Boba Fett Episode 3 ~

I want to take a look at the three most discussed “issues” with episode 3 of The Book of Boba Fett from a writer’s perspective. Because to me, as someone who has both worked with editors, sensitivity readers and near editor-level readers on my original stories and read other peoples original works as the latter, the writing does not seem lazy or bad, as a lot of people suggest.

Quite the contrary: It makes sure that BOBF is not just a simple repeat of the Murder-Hobo RPG-plotline of The Mandalorian and instead shows actual consequences of such actions. Plus the continued and stacked failings and vulnerabilities of a character that stood on such a high pedestal for so long is something rarely used in modern media and is therefore utterly fascinating to me. (In addtion to all the insights into species that so far were mostly known for being "bad". )

But let's take a look at what went down this episode.

Boba’s injuries

Let’s start with the easiest one. People have been complaining that Boba did not show signs of his injuries after the fight with the Wookiee.

Well, first of all: Krrsantan ripped him from a filled Bacta tank actively flodding the floor with its content.

This in turn means two things:

Boba was drenched in Bacta-water

Every time he fell onto the floor he got a new dosage of it.

With the interference of the Mods/Cyborgs that could have been enough time to rudimentally heal the most of that awful crunch. At least to an extent that he can pretend that he is not as injured as he really is. Which is technically underlined by the fact that Boba is still in the robe hours later instead of wearing the armor and unwilling to eat. (A lot of pain usally puts eating at quite a low priority ...)

What should be questioned instead is: How the heck did they get the Gamorrean in the human-sized tank?!

(I’m also pretty sure the Wookiee is going to be an ally later on in the season, paying back the kindness offered to him.)

The Mods/Cyborgs

The major complain about this is the fact that they look shiny, new and colorful. Yet, we don’t know if

they are from Mos Vespa

the modifications are aesthetically or aids

All we know is what the weaselly water vendor told us about them - and the one comment about the eye being expensive. So it may as well be that they have only recently moved to Mos Espa after buying and installing their gear. In the new environment they then found no employment causing their funds to dry out making them unable to have access to basic necessities. And of course they would have to keep their gear clean, as otherwise it would stop functioning, which is not good considering they are used as body part replacements. Though, I really hope that it will be revealed that the modifications are aids and not just aesthetics as that would add significantly to the representation they have already featured on both shows (plus SW in general). Even if it’d again be a case of “fixing” a disability with technological means.

(If anyone is interested in more information about the topic of Science Fiction trying to “fix” disabled people, you may want to check out the Podcast “Our Opinios Are Correct” where they talk about it with deafblind author and activist Elsa Sjunneson)

Considering that Boba knows about such modifications - having installed them in Fennec - it’s pretty clear why he gave them a chance, apart from the treatment they received.

As for the colors: You do realize that Mandalorians communicate their views on life through the colors of their armor? Which could make for quite a colorful group of people.

Anyway, now for the most important one:

The Tuskens

I think we can all agree that the subtext of using indigenous-coded people for this is questionable at best, because it is too close to things that happen(ed) in real life. Something that writers should strive to refrain from reusing over and over again and instead focus on new narratives (which was well done in the previous episode). Yet, at the same time it is sometimes easier (and recommended) to tell real world problems through a fictional lens to make people understand how awful and wrong a “thing” is/was. With Morrisons apparent involvement it stands to reason that he and Rodriguez may have deliberately chosen this to show how wrong the treatment of indigenous people (still) is.

Because the thing is: Even if Boba had been picked up by, say, the people of Mos Pelgo, as long as they incorporated the train-plot the exact same thing would have happened.

Well, let’s take a look at the plot so far:

The Pyke train drives through Tusken territory, killing anyone they see on sight - with the Tusken trying to defend themselves.

Boba conjures up a plan to stop the train, which succeeds. Through that, they not just kill most of the Pykes, but also destroy the train and the spice, while ordering them to pay a toll to the tribes for trespassing/safe passage. (Basically causing major financial loss for the Pykes)

Boba then tries to negotiate the treaty and is informed that the Pykes have already hired security details (despite Boba’s insistence that the deal would be made with the Tuskens). Namely the Nikto-gang Boba beat up and stole the bikes from that then were used to destroy the train.

In that moment Boba decides and announces to get rid of the competition. Only to realize that they beat him to it. Most likely having heard the exact same words regarding the "double payment” before Boba even made it to Mos Eisley, giving them a headstart and the Pykes an opportunity for revenge.

To me that is a valid (if old) narrative. And additional fuel - and thus connecting memories and present time story arc - to the Pykes trying to take over the Syndicate and showing how they treat their “problems” by playing all sides involved, expecting the parties that stand in their way to eliminate each other instead of them having to dirty their hands. Something they, from what it looks like, also did with the Hutts and Boba by sending the assassins by using the mayor. This could even mean that the memories are a warning/prophecy that remind Boba of what the Pykes are capable of.

In short: Whoever had saved Boba would have died, because of the actions he took to repay their kindness.

It’s not a new plot, quite old actually, but it is definitely not lazy as a lot of pieces need to be laid out for this to work. Namely the involvement of the third party that was teasered but only now revealed to not just be a random view into the life on Tatooine. It’ll still be interesting to see this unfold, especially as Boba promised ten-fold repercussions (technically only for deaths dealt by the passing freighters, but that would be nitpicking a perfectly fine threat) ...

And yes, I too hope that some of the Tuskens survived/managed to flee/were taking as prisoners ...

#the book of boba fett #book of boba spoilers #book of boba fett #bobf #bobf spoilers #star wars #the mandalorian #tusken massacre #tusken raiders #analysis

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ratmonky · 3 years

Text

After The Storm

Word Count: 5.3K

Warnings: choking, breeding, biting, mild knife-play, smoking, munkey’s self indulgent ass

AO3 Link

@kingtamakimurder thank you for always inspiring me and making me smile ((; pls accept this as your early birthday gift

The downpour came after the peal of thunder almost instantly, it was heavy and rapid.

People around cursed and started running around to take shelter from the heavy rain.

One man stood there calmly, unresponsive to the rain droplets falling soaking his clothes. He clicked his tongue before opening the umbrella he had been holding onto.

The weather report was right as always, the channel he had watched this morning had reported that there would be heavy rain around the evening time.

Lines of rainwater from the top of his umbrella dripped down in front of his gaze as he brought a cigarette up to his lips. Using his cheap spark wheel lighter, he lit his cigarette with a deep inhale. His eyes were trained on the exit of an apartment building as he was putting away his lighter, waiting for someone who fit the description.

The cigarette smoke he blew left a stale taste in his mouth. He had been standing here for a while, hadn’t eaten or anything. It was boring but he knew it wouldn’t be long until something interesting happened.

The calm before the storm.

Then, finally, after a long time of waiting, the target was in his view. A young woman entered the building, clothes soaked with rain, carrying a bag of groceries.

He watched the code the woman pressed into the lock and crushed his cigarette under his shoe.

Time to move.

~~~

You stared at your phone screen to check the time and walked inside your apartment building. There were a lot of unread text messages from people you knew but you tried your best to ignore them.

When you pushed the elevator button, you were fantasizing about how you were going to strip your clothes off as soon as you got inside your apartment and fill up the bathtub with warm water. There was an open bottle of white wine from a couple of days ago, you could eat the grapes you had just bought too.

Today would be your pamper day, you decided.

After a long week of working, it was only natural that you deserved to do a little bit of self-care.

If you remembered it right there was an unopened pack of your favorite chocolate bar in the kitchen cabinet too! Ugh, today was going to be perfect!

You got on the elevator while trying to decide which show you would watch after your much-needed bath, omitting the man who had entered the apartment building with your code.

The elevator doors closed with a soft chime. You looked down to your feet to notice how water had pooled under you. You had probably left a puddle of water on the main floor as well while waiting for the elevator. The janitor was going to be really mad, you should have listened to the weather reporters who had warned the citizens about the heavy rain.

Internally apologizing to the janitor, you left the elevator on your floor, heading straight to your apartment. Water droplets falling from your clothes left a trail after you. A loud groan left your lips, the janitor would definitely know you were the culprit.

You unlocked your door and entered your apartment, rubbing at your eyes. You were feeling a little drained. Nights had been more sleepless than usual but you knew as soon as you got in the tub full of hot water and bath salts, the heavy feeling would lift, and you would be renewed.

Kicking off your shoes, you started getting rid of your clothes by the doorway to avoid soaking the floorboards with water. Your clothes were sticking to your skin and peeling them off took you a minute longer than usual but once you were only in your underwear, you carried the grocery bag to the kitchen.

Quickly making your way to the bathroom, you turned on the faucet to let the bathtub fill. You grabbed your wet clothes and ran into the bathroom with them, squeezing the excess water before hanging them on the clothing rack for them to dry.

The bathtub had only filled halfway when you went inside your room to put on your favorite robe. It felt a little weird walking around in your undergarments even if you were alone.

Back in the bathroom, you checked the temperature of the water with the glass of white wine you filled earlier. You opened one of the big bath bombs you had, using it instead of bath salts felt like a better idea. You could stand and watch the satisfying colors emerge from the bath bomb. It was always mesmerizing to see.

Your thoughts were interfered with by a heavy knock on your door. You weren’t expecting any guests. In a hurried motion, you tightened your robe using the string around your waist before walking out to the doorway.

Getting on your tiptoes, you looked through the peephole to see who it was. It was a man with his dipped low. He banged on the door this time, startling you enough to gasp.

Now, unlike your old apartment, the door didn’t have a chain lock on it. You had actually bought that specific lock a couple of months ago but you had been procrastinating on installing it and today you cursed yourself for always leaving the things you actually needed to do for tomorrow.

You grabbed the door handle hesitantly and opened the door to see what the man wanted. Your free hand was clutching the fabric on your chest. The door only opened until there was enough space for you to peek out but not enough space for the man to see inside.

“Can I help you?” you asked, voice flat, kind of annoyed. How dare he disturb your pamper routine.

“That’s why I’m here,” he replied. He was tall and muscular, which irked you. “A colleague gave me your name, and said you treated people who couldn’t go to a hospital-”

You suddenly opened the door wider and shushed him. He raised a brow and glowered down at you, with the way his eyes squinted at you, you felt like an insignificant pebble on a crosswalk.

“I-I don’t do it h-here,” you explained, a hundred names crossed your mind and you tried to remember which one of your contacts was stupid enough to give this man your name but you couldn’t think of anyone. Even if you did… nobody knew where you lived, meaning, this man had found you all by himself. “You should leave, I’ll come by that bar in Shibuya next week, as usual, I’ll see you there.”

You made a move to close the door.

“Hold up.” The man put his hand on the door, blocking you from closing it. “I can’t wait that long.” His grip on the door tightened, you could swear you saw his veins pop up.

“I-I can’t help you right now, sir!” You tried slamming the door closed by using your entire weight to push it but the door seemed to just open wider. Yelping, you looked at the large man in horror.

“Why is that?” he demanded, his voice sounded terrifying, there was an underlying tone of rage as if he was ready to snap. Right now, he was technically standing by the door frame, if he took one step forward, the door would be wide open and he would invade your home.

“It’s not an appropriate time,” you said honestly.

“You’re lying,” he called you out immediately, narrowing his eyes at you. “Some stitching, once it’s done I’ll be gone,” he insisted.

“Sir, please, if you don’t leave I will scream,” you replied, simple and to the point.

“I thought you people swore on an oath or whatever to help those in need? Like; patients will be my first consideration yada yada.”

“We pledge to service!” you corrected, “And you seem perfectly fine to me! Leave before I call the police!”

He moved away from the door and you almost fell face forward onto the tile floor. You were getting ready to cuss him out when he lifted his shirt.

Quite unlike a nurse, your mouth gaped at the sight, quickly you looked away.

He scoffed at your reaction, “Not very professional, are ya?”

You heard your next-door neighbor open their door, knowing what the view would look like to them, in a wave of panic you grabbed the man, pulling him inside the cramped doorway. It wouldn’t have been that jarring to have a man lift his shirt up in front of your door if it wasn't for the evening hour, which permitted a lot of gossip for your neighbors.

Getting on your tiptoes, you looked through the peephole, your neighbor walked past your door with their dog without a glance in your direction.

You heard the soft thuds of footsteps moving further away and suddenly remembered the unknown man you had inside your apartment. By the time you whipped your head around to see what he was doing, he had already disappeared into your living room.

“Sir,” you called, crossing your arms on your chest. “I need you to leave.”

He threw himself on the couch, putting his foot up on your coffee table. “You invited me inside.”

“N-no, it was just because I didn’t want any misunderstandings between me and my neighbors.”

While you were busy explaining yourself he found the remote control and turned on the television, flicking through the channels.

“Hey, are you listening to me?” You stomped your foot, “I’ll call the police if you don’t leave my house right now!”

Unresponsive, he continued flicking through the channels until he found a rerun of a thriller movie.

With a grumble, you went to grab your phone from the bathroom and walked back to the living room. “I’m serious!”

He was still unfazed.

“Okay, that’s it!” Your fingers fumbled on the screen, trembling as you dialed in the number. You lifted the phone up to your ear, it was on the first ringing beep when the man spoke.

“Don’t you think that they’ll ask me why I’m here?” He turned his head to look at you with a mocking look on his face. “What makes you think that I won’t tell them about your underground hospital?”

Your blood ran cold. It took you less than a second to hang up the call.

He scoffed.

The money you got from your usual job didn’t pay well but criminals… they paid more than well. As long as you kept your mouth shut, didn’t ask too many questions, and treated them, you got paid your monthly income per patient.

You needed the money.

“You’ll leave once I’ve treated you?”

A nod.

You let out a sigh and disappeared into the bathroom to grab your medical kit. You pulled a chair next to the dinner table and placed some tools on the table. “Sir,” you called, “Sit here.”

“Toji,” he said, turning off the television before walking to the chair.

There was no need for you to know his name, you weren’t going to see him ever again.

Toji reached to his back, his fingers dragged the fabric up, once he managed to hook a finger under it, he pulled his shirt up and over his head. He stood shirtless in front of you, his muscles flexed as he draped his shirt over the chair.

“Enjoying the view?”

You weren’t moving, eyes trained on Toji intently when he called you out. You breathed slowly through your mouth only, internally begging yourself to calm down. You grabbed a damp cotton pad soaked in alcohol and pressed it against a gash on his abdomen. He didn’t wince or flinch. While you were cleaning the gashes and the dried blood to get a clean canvas to work with, you noticed many different scars on his body.

Some were faint, some were improperly healed.

His ribcage was covered with those scars, the ragged rip in his flesh was going to be only one another story to tell like any other of his scars.

“Wanna tell me how this happened? Who did it?”

“A curse.”

“A curse,” you echoed. It made you snicker which also gave him the answer to something he had been wondering.

Putting the cotton pad down, you grabbed the sterilized needle and a thread before kneeling in front of him. You pushed the needle through his skin and pulled it out on the other side of the gash.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” he asked abruptly.

“N-no,” you stuttered, confused as to why he had asked you this question. He wasn’t trying to flirt, was he? “Why did you ask?”

“The way you’re dressed, it’s like you’re waiting for your man.” His voice had an edge to it as if he was saying each word after careful thought, knowing what your reaction would be.

Your cheeks flushed bright pink, not helping the situation and giving him the reaction he was looking for. You would have covered more of your chest but you were busy stitching his wound.

There was a need to change the subject but you found yourself asking him the same question. “What about you? Do you have someone?” Your voice died out quietly when you noticed what you were asking could imply that you were interested in him.

“Divorced.” Was his answer.

“Oh.” The needle sunk into his flesh one last time, you pulled it from the other side of the wound, done with your stitching. “Any kids?”

“Probably.”

The way he answered made the question you jolt but you didn’t dig it any further. Instead, you grabbed another damp cotton pad to clean his stitches before putting a bandage over them.

“Done, don’t shower until next week,” you paused, realizing that you were going to see him next week. “I’ll have to take the stitches out once they’re healed.”

“No need,” he replied, smirking while looking down at you. He was simply enjoying the view of you on your knees. “I’ll do it myself.”

“Ah… okay.” You removed your latex gloves and tidied up the floor. “That’ll be around 12 000 Yen.”

Toji barked out in a laugh.

“W-what?”

“That much for sewing some skin together? I could’ve done it myself if I had taken some sewing classes.” He leaned forward on the chair, his biceps flexed hypnotizingly as his hand reached for your face. You didn’t move away, it was happening too fast. He squeezed your cheeks together until your lips puckered, his eyes sparkled with dark amusement. “Why not lower your price, whaddaya say, kitten?”

Something in your body switched.

Your head shook, you tried speaking but the words came out weird. “It’s ‘cause you invaded my home and forced me into this.”

Toji was still able to understand what you were saying. Your response annoyed him, for some reason he couldn’t articulate. He sighed heavily after cocking his head to the side. “How about I pay you back with something else?”

His eyes wandered down on your chest and then lower and lower and lower-

You closed your eyes shut, what was happening to you? This… He made you feel weird, no matter how attractive Toji was, he was still a stranger! What are you doing? Say no.

“N-no, I want the money.”

“Hmm, really?” He leaned in closer, you could feel his hot breath on your face. “Is that really what you want?”

“I need the money.” I need you to fuck me.

You heard the chair creak as he leaned even closer, then you felt his lips brush against your earlobe.

“(name).”

Ahh, the way he whispered your name into your ear made you tremble. You couldn’t help shuddering at the contact. You were falling to pieces. You were losing yourself.

“Toji,” you echoed, opening your eyes. His hazy gaze was already on you.

He released your cheeks and leaned back on the chair, placing a hand on his crotch, gripping his bulge, smirking.

Your mouth was gaped open, watching his hand as he palmed himself through his jeans.

“Wanna take a closer look?”

You mindlessly nodded.

Toji patted a free hand on his knee, urging you to sit on it. You weren’t thinking when you climbed up on his knee, your mind was blank, only the need to be filled by something firm and large filled your senses.

Eyes trained on Toji’s hard cock, trapped in the rough fabric, you settled on his knee. He grabbed your hand and slowly placed it on his bulge, instructing you to squeeze it to feel how large it actually was. His jeans didn’t do much justice, the size you felt by cupping his bulge wasn’t at all visible through them.

“It’s big.” Your eyes stared unblinkingly down at his clothed cock. Would it fit inside me?

Toji hummed, his size wasn’t any news to him. He placed his hands on your waist, feeling you up while you were busy rubbing your small hands on his growing erection. God, it keeps getting bigger.

“Are ya gonna keep playing with it over the pants?” he asked, moving his knee side to side for whatever reason. You didn’t pay much attention. “Are ya listening?”

A sound escaped you when his knee pressed against your pussy. Was that what he was trying to do just now?

One look at Toji’s face gave you the answer.

Toji bounced his leg gently, your legs trembled and you held onto him.

“You’re more sensitive than I thought,” he said, placing his hands on your hips, gripping harshly to move them along his knee.

Your eyes were starting to roll and flutter as he pressed you down on his knee, the friction was mind-numbingly ecstatic, and his wandering hands were just adding to the pleasure. It was all too much, the heat from Toji, large hands teasing your body over your robe with slowly paced strokes, and his overwhelming musky scent.

All of your senses were rearing up, telling you to get on all fours and let this man you met barely an hour ago fuck you silly. The attraction was undeniable and clearly mutual yet unpredictable.

“Ahh, I wanna mess you up so badly,” he said suddenly, his hands went under your robe, hiking the fabric up to see more of the supple flesh of your thighs.

You mewled in response.

He leaned to put his head on your shoulder, “If I were to,” -he grabbed a chunk of your ass, “-tell you that I wanna see you on top of me, what would ya do?”

Your breath hitched.

“I-I don’t know,” you managed, her voice quivering. I wanna feel your weight on top of me.

He noticed your discomfort. “I think you'd want me to be on top, am I right?”

Yes. Yes. Yes.

“You’re being too vulgar.” You tried sounding serious.

His hand left your hip, he reached to your face instead. You gasped softly when he tucked your hair behind your ear. “I can feel your pussy throbbing on my knee.”

Stunned, your eyes widened and you stumbled on your words. “N-no-” you protested, voice trembling.

The intense look he gave you with a raised eyebrow made you blush furiously.

“I m-mean-” You meekly looked up at him. “When you say it like that, you make me look like a… like a…-”

“A slut?” he filled in. He let out a sigh, placing a hand behind your head and pulling you towards his face. “Isn’t it a little too late to reintroduce yourself?”

“I’m just not like this.” You pouted at him. “I’ve never been like this before.”

A grin broke out on his face and he laughed, rubbing the back of your head. “I find that hard to believe, you were trying to seduce me from the moment you opened the door.”

You gasped suddenly, “I would never-”

“You’ve soaked my pants with your cunt, young lady.” Toji teased with a smile. “I can’t do or say anything more vulgar than that.”

A momentary silence hung between the two of you, your face had turned beet red. “With that settled... Do you know the name of the thing you were touching?”

Your body trembled at his blunt approach, oblivious to how close he had gotten.

“It’s a cock,” he breathed. “Say it.”

He leaned in closer and as he got closer you could see his features more clearly. Your eyes were on the scar on his lip, you wondered what it would feel like if you were to trace it with your tongue. “C-c-clock-” you gave up.

He put an arm around your waist, pulling you a lot closer. “Unless you say what you want from me, I won’t be able to pay you back,” he murmured, his eyes hazy.

You gave him a shaky smirk to cover your own embarrassment. “I--I want you to touch me.” I want you to fill all my holes.

“Be more specific.”

You wanted his large hands to cup your breasts and slide down, down down until they found your sacred place. You wanted him to rest the weight of his cock on your face, you wanted his lips on your slick heat, and you... You-

The longer you looked at him, the more you wanted him to touch you.

Toji looked at you as if he knew what you were thinking and bit his lip. “Come on, say it.”

“I want,” you started, body trembling with anticipation. “I want you to ruin me with your cock.”

He pressed a hand on the small of your back, bringing you even closer to him. Instantly, his lips crashed onto yours, he snaked his tongue inside your mouth savoring your sweet taste.

You lifted your leg and crossed it over his leg to sit on his lap. He pressed you down onto his crotch, you could feel the enormous erection underneath the rough fabric, pushing against your own clothed entrance. He could slip his cock right inside your pussy if you were both naked.

Desperate and needier than ever, you started grinding on his erection, humping him like a bitch in heat.

He growled into the kiss, his strong hands bouncing you harder on his erection. He was getting impatient, just like you. He needed to feel your walls clamp on his cock right at this moment or he would literally snap--

His large hands grabbed you firmly by your ass and he stood up from the chair. You yelped in panic before wrapping your arms around his neck to avoid falling. (As if Toji would drop you.)

He carried you to your bedroom, dropping you hard against the mattress. Within barely a second, he was on top of you, hastily pulling his pants down. You followed his example and hooked a finger under your panties but Toji growled at you to leave them be.

“I’ll take them off,” he demanded in a low keen tone, his hand tightly gripping onto something.

Dumbfounded, all you could do was to nod and wait for him.

Toji was completely naked when he flicked his pocket knife open. A wave of panic washed over you as he pressed the dull part of the knife on your chest. He was smirking encouragingly to put you at ease. He looked far too confident in what he was planning to do.

You yelped when he cut your bra off by the middle. Your tits gave a single bounce while Toji’s eyes feasted on the sight of them.

His hand cupped your breast and as he kneaded the soft flesh, he sliced a part of your panties. You lifted your torso up from the bed to shimmy out of your bra and robe. You threw them out of the way. Having your tit in his reach again, Toji pinched your perky nipple, put the knife down, and then brought both of his hands on your panties to rip the rest of the fabric off.

He brought the fabric up to his nose and took a deep inhale, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. Decidedly, Toji grabbed you by the hips and pulled you completely under him, his rock-hard cock threateningly loomed over your leaking pussy.

Like he said, you liked him on top. It was a mesmerizing sight to see, his hair stuck to his forehead because of sweat, his eyes hazy with lust, lips agape to the sight of you under him. You could tell he was admiring the sight just as you were. You blushed faintly.

“Open your mouth,” he ordered, resting his fingers on your lips.

You obliged right away.

He pushed his fingers inside your mouth, covering the digits with your saliva before taking them out to grab his cock. His eyes didn’t leave yours even for a second, he gave a couple of pumps to his shaft and pressed the tip on your clit.

With a mewl, you bit your lip.

Toji dragged his cock along your folds as you started moving your hips impatiently. He was clearly teasing you but he cut it short, inserting the tip of his large cock in your pussy.

“It hurts, take it out!” you tried to move away from his cock but he held you in place.

“It’s just the tip.”

Although it was only the tip, you felt it stretch your walls and fill you up to the brim. The feeling didn’t go away either. Each time you thought he had inserted the entire length of his cock, he kept pushing his hips forward.

When his hips finally met yours, there were tears in your eyes, your chest heaved as your lips trembled.

“You’re so tight.” It’s you who’s got the enormous dick.

Toji pulled his hips back and slammed into your pussy with enough force to make your bed frame bang on the wall. You basically yelled out a moan and he started fucking you at an animalistic pace. His thrusts were brutal, you kept sliding up on your bed and he followed you to plant his cock to the deepest part of your cunt. Your fingers grasped onto the sheets under you, trying to stay where you were but it felt useless. His weight was more than enough to fuck you frantically at the same time he continued to punch a hole into your wall with your bed frame.

He slapped a hand on your neck to hold you in place, he stretched his fingers before wrapping them around you, his single hand was big enough to wrap around your neck. Your hands immediately went to grab on his wrist, you weren’t sure if you were trying to hold onto him for support or because he was practically crushing your windpipe but you couldn’t think properly.

Using his other hand, he forced your legs on his shoulders so he could shove his cock even deeper inside of your pussy. The tip of his cock kissed your cervix and your mouth opened in a silent scream.

Your walls clamped on his cock as you started to panic over not being able to breathe. You kept getting tighter and tighter. Trying to greedily milk Toji’s cock of his seed.

The thought of fucking you until your abused hole overflowed almost made him cum. Toji spat in your open mouth in the heat of the moment, how dare you try to cut the fun short with your clenching gummy walls! He placed his second hand on your neck as well. “Swallow it,” he snarled, his pace slowed.

You couldn’t.

He was putting too much pressure on your neck, you felt like you forgot how to use your tongue to swallow the simple liquid.

In a wave of panic, both of your hands went to your neck. You dug your nails on his hands, scratching the skin for him to let you breathe. Your vision was getting blurry and it wouldn’t be long until you passed out.

Unamused, Toji lifted the pressure off of your neck to instead pick up his slackened pace with his face buried in your neck.

You hadn’t even got to take a deep breath when you choked on both your and his spit. He was rougher than you thought he would be, like an untamed animal.

“I forgot how fragile women are.” Audibly talking to himself, Toji snapped his hips forward, making your toes curl. His teeth sank hard into your neck, enough to make it bleed. He sucked and licked on your neck, steadily nibbling on it while you moaned. The pain was pleasurable, you were going insane. This was it, you were about to see the stars. Weird, he hadn’t even touched you there yet you were already a mess. You wondered what you looked like. Had your makeup melted from your tears and spit?

“I’m close,” he informed, his voice huskier than before. Your legs started to shake, you reached your arms to him wanting to hold onto him. He leaned closer, letting you put your hands wherever they could reach as one of his hands reached between your legs to rub on your clit. Your tight walls clenched on his cock at once.

His vigorous pace and speed slackened, unable to resist your gummy walls any longer. Toji slammed his hips into yours, his balls slapped against your ass with a loud clap and his thick cock twitched. He was all the way inside you, from tip to the base. Your high came first, his finger flicked on your clit as your walls squeezed around him, you wrapped your legs around his waist, hoping that the euphoria would last a lifetime.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head while your orgasm shook you to your core. You hadn’t come this hard before with anyone else. Everything felt unreal.

Toji spilled his thick and creamy seed deep inside your fertile womb with a groan. He continued moving his hips to fuck his seed into your pussy. You could feel his hot seed run down from your pussy to your ass, leaving a sticky feeling.

Once satisfied, he pulled out and threw himself on the bed next to you. His bandages were bleeding through, you noticed at the same time you were trying to catch your breath.

It was silent for a while.

The only noises in your room were the two of your breathing sounds. He managed to get his breathing in control quicker than you.

Without speaking, Toji sat up and grabbed his jeans from the edge of the bed. You watched him take a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his jeans. He then laid next to you, putting a cigarette between his lips. He offered you one as well and you accepted out of courtesy.

You were far too tired to tell him to not smoke inside so you had joined him.

He lit your cigarette first, you inhaled the smoke as deep as you could before letting it go. Your muscles were spasming everywhere, your legs hadn’t stopped shaking but the nicotine helped bring your senses back. Your nerves eased with each inhale.

“Did the payment go through?” he joked, chuckling softly. His hair was a mess, he noticed your stare and ran his fingers through his hair to comb it.

“Definitely,” you snickered.

Toji pulled you closer to himself until you settled to his side, with your head on his chest and your arm over his torso. You two kept on smoking in the bed like that.

“When I come back to have my stitches removed, will you take the same payment method?” His tone was flirty, full of promises. “Huh, kitten?”

“I thought you were going to remove them yourself?” A genuine laugh escaped from your lips.

“What can I say, I liked your treatment style.” It was just an excuse to see you again. “So, whaddaya say?”

“Absolutely no! Not after all that choking stuff!”

Nevertheless, when Toji came back to your place the day after, a lot sooner than he should have, you didn’t say anything about the toothbrush he brought with him.

#being a dilf hunter is hard #there are just so many dilfs #toji x reader #toji x you

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nastybuckybarnes · 3 years

Text

Bodyguard - Six

Pairing: Bodyguard!Bucky X Politician!Reader

Summary: As a young and controversial politician, you face some opposition. After a death threat is made and your security is at risk, you agree to get a bodyguard. You don’t expect him to be the most irritating and attractive man on the planet. With a history so deep and twisted you never thought you’d figure it out, a terrible corporation is determined to take you out of the political picture; using any means necessary. The only question is, how far is James willing to go to ensure your safety?

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Injuries, Violence, Language.

Word Count: 1.5K

A/n: Um hi it’s only been like a year or something haha oops. We’re gonna have one more instalment to this series!

INSPIRED BY THE NETFLIX ORIGINAL: BODYGUARD

SERIES MASTERLIST

~*~

You watch as Bucky, Natasha, and Steve argue over what’s best for you to do. Bucky is adamant that you stay in the safe house, away from those trying to kill you, while Natasha argues that putting you in someplace where they can get you could lead them to get answers about who wants you and why they want you dead. Steve, the poor man, is trying to play mediator between the two hotheads.

“What are they expecting me to do?” You ask suddenly, getting the attention of the three.

Bucky looks at you with pursed lips.

“You tried to come clean on national television and they thwarted that. I assume that they think the message got across.” You nod slowly, thinking that over.

“So why don’t I do something that they wouldn’t expect? If they think I’ll lay low, I should do the opposite, right?”

An idea starts to take shape in your mind.

“I could make a public announcement from the safe house. Take a video and send it to every news station in the country to get my message across. Then, HYDRA will be exposed and I’ll still be safe here.” Natasha cocks her head to the side, eyebrows raised as she ponders it.

“Nat, no,” Bucky says instantly. She holds up a hand to silence him.

“We could have Stark secure the network. Make sure that no one can trace the video back here. She’d be safe and HYDRA would be exposed. It works.” You nod, happy that she’s agreed with you. Bucky sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“There’s no way I’m arguing with you two, is there?” You both shake your heads and he almost cracks a smile. Almost.

“Hello, all. I am coming to you from an undisclosed location to give you an update on the threat to America. It was speculated that the terrorists were from outside of the country, but I can confidently confirm that they are American citizens. They work for a terrorist organization known as HYDRA, and they’ve been operating since the 1930′s. Their goal, as of right now, is to strike fear in the hearts of the citizens and wage a war on the Middle East. We must not give in to them. I have been attacked many times, but I will not give in to fear. HYDRA will be stopped and they will be stopped soon. Do not engage if you see them. This is a message to the citizens of America and the terrorists of HYDRA. HYDRA will be stopped. And justice will be served.”

You rewatch the video one last time before sending it off, a weight lifting off of your shoulders while one settles on Bucky’s.

“It’ll be fine, James,” you whisper, taking his hand in yours. He sighs and shakes his head. “I have a bad feeling about this.” You wave off his concerns and stand up, stretching your legs and pulling him to his feet.

“Well... I think I know how to get your mind off of it.” He’s following you up the stairs to the master bedroom and you can’t help but giggle, all the while Tony Stark and Natasha are taking all preventative measures they can online, not wanting the video to be tracked back to the safe house.

Steve has called back up, to get extra security around the house, and sits in his car outside, watching the surroundings for anything suspicious.

~*~

You climb out of bed, grinning at Bucky’s sleeping figure. Rather than disturb him, you get yourself cleaned and dressed then head downstairs to make yourself some tea. The house, surprisingly, is empty, except for a note on the kitchen table written in Natasha’s neat handwriting.

‘Following up on a lead. Be back soon. Call if anything happens.’ You purse your lips and take a big breath in, hoping that this will all be over soon so that you can come out of hiding.

As you’re pouring the boiled water into your mug, a hand is coming up and covering your mouth. You go to drop the kettle, hoping the loud noise wakes Bucky, but a second set of hands grabs it and places it back on the counter.

You’re silently dragged from the house, tears in your eyes as fear spreads through your veins like wildfire.

Then you’re being shoved roughly into the backseat of a car, hands bound behind your back and a gag in your mouth.

You kick against the windows, hoping to break them and give yourself some way to escape, but one of your captors jumps to the back with you while the other takes off speeding down the road and away from safety.

The drive is long, with too many turns to count, and you feel yourself losing hope.

They finally pull up to a large house in the middle of an upper-class neighbourhood, the car sliding into the garage.

The gag is pulled from your mouth and then you’re being wrestled inside the house.

If you weren’t so focused on fighting the men holding you, you’d take time to notice how beautiful the house is.

Then you’re being pushed to sit down in a chair in the kitchen. You glare at the people holding you captive, angry and slightly terrified.

“You, my dear, are far smarter than you seem. Smarter than your father was.” You recognize that voice, and the fact that you do sends a shiver down your spine.

“President Pierce,” you state, not turning as the man walks into the room. He chuckles and sits down across from you, a smile on his face.

“You know, I thought you were dead for a while. Until that video came out. Stark is fast, but not fast enough. We tracked it down and found you. And look at that, you’re hardly surprised to see me here, are you?” You shake your head. You never had a good feeling about the president.

“Well, I’m not going to argue with you and tell you that I’m a good guy. Women like you can never see the bigger picture.” You roll your eyes at him,

“What bigger picture?! You’re trying to start a war with innocent people!” He chuckles and pats your cheek. “Oil. Oil is money. And money is power. Once we control the Middle East, we can start taking on Africa. And then Asia. Then Europe. Until the whole world belongs to us.” You shake your head, disgusted by his greed.

“You won’t get away with this. Everyone knows it’s HYDRA behind the terrorist attacks.” He clicks his tongue.

“Yes, that’s true. But all I need to do is make a convincing video of you confessing to lying, admit that you’re working for the bad guys, and then kill you. You’re a pawn in a bigger game than you know. And you’ve played your part beautifully. I’ll admit, you’re stronger than I thought, but even you can break.”

You open your mouth to speak when suddenly your phone starts ringing.

One of Pierce’s men hands the phone to him and he shrugs. “It would be suspicious if you left without your phone.” A gun is pressed to your temple and you squeeze your eyes shut.

“You’ll tell them that everything is fine and you just went out to grab a few things from the store,” Pierce instructs, accenting the call and pressing the phone to your ear.

“(Y/n)? Where the hell are you?!” Bucky’s frantic voice asks. You let out a shaky breath before answering.

“I’m fine. I just went to grab a few things from the store. You can chillax. And make sure you tell Sam to chillax too, okay? I know he specifically will worry so make sure you tell him to chillax.” He hesitates for a moment, suspicious and worried.

“I’ll tell him.” You feel your eyes start to sting.

“I’ll be back soon. I love you, James.” This is what really tips him off to something being wrong.

“I love you too.” He doesn’t hang up right away, he waits and listens to see if there’s anything to give away where you are.

One of the goons takes your phone from Pierce as he begins talking, hanging up after he’s spoken a few words.

“Steve!” Bucky shouts, dropping his phone and looking for the blond. Steve, Nat, and Sam hurry into the room, each with matching looks of concern on their faces.

“She’s with Pierce,” He says. The other agents look confused before Bucky turns to Sam.

“She kept telling me to tell you to ‘chillax’. I don’t know what that means but she said it more than once.” Sam’s eyes widen. “I told her that if she’s ever in trouble to say ‘chillax’. As a code word.” Bucky jumps to his feet.

“Fuck! I knew it! I fucking knew Pierce was with them. He’s gotta be.”

“Wait... you think that the President...” Natasha trails off and Bucky nods.

“Pierce is working with HYDRA.”

#Bucky x reader bodyguard au #bodyguard #bodyguard au #bodyguard bucky #bodyguard!bucky x reader #bodyguard bucky x politician reader #politician au #bodyguard!bucky x Politician!reader #bucky x reader au #Bucky Barnes x reader au #bucky x reader

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hotdogct · 3 years

Text

dort oben wunderbar / l.yy

pairing: liu yangyang x reader genre: fluff words: 1k a/n: title comes from the german poem 'die lorelei'. once upon a time i fell in love with a german exchange student. its amazing how those stars line up.

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

liu yangyang liked to present himself as an open book.

he arrived with no warning in the fall - a new transfer student, fresh from germany and obnoxiously present in the majority of your classes. yangyang was often slow to the take, a bit chatty once you got him started, but friendly. from having to hear his brief first day introduction multiple times, you knew that he liked basketball, that his name meant ‘sheep’, he had one sibling. he had a loud laugh and wasted no time making friends, his international status making him effortlessly popular and in demand amongst the student body.

yes, you knew of liu yangyang. and those were the few things you knew about yangyang. but much like his forehead, you had a feeling the actual yangyang was shrouded in mystery, seldom seen.

this idea, the myth of there being a ‘real’ yangyang, ate away at you the entire year. your friends would call you silly, insist that maybe there was nothing more there than what he presented to the world: a friendly guy with an impressive talent for chugging a beer (growing up in germany had its perks, one supposed). you were almost content to leave it a lingering curiosity, let the rays of summertime fade his smile and name from your memory.

but when you overhear yangyang discussing his plans for the summer with sicheng one late spring afternoon before lecture started - and how they include an extended stay back in germany - you know the curiosity left unattended would morph into a scratch, a fever with no direct cure.

luckily, you also knew yangyang was a hit at parties - and that sicheng was throwing a rager that weekend.

*****

maybe you were just feeling emboldened from whatever drink yukhei had shoved into your hand upon arrival. maybe it was just the compulsive feeling for adventure that accompanies the dawn of summertime. but as you stumble your way across the backyard, dew drops that had accumulated on the grass now ticking at your ankles, you were determined to crack the code of one liu yangyang. before you lost your chance.

you spot your sheep sitting upon a brick ledge gazing lazily at the sky, landscaped perfection of shrubs and flowers behind him. you call out his name as you approach, waving timidly, the sudden courage you had felt minutes prior almost nonexistent until he reciprocates, greeting you by name with a wave and the familiar big smile that he flashes at everyone.

“wie gehts?” you ask upon your arrival, your rusty skills from 7th grade german class finally proving their worth.

“wunderbar, jetzt wo du hier bist,” yangyang pats the empty space beside him. “i didn’t know you spoke deutsch.”

“that’s about the extent of it,” you admit as you settle down, his subtle flirting auf deutsch flying way over your head - although you catch a whiff of beer on his breath. you suddenly realize how ridiculous you must have sounded to the drunk ex-pat. “you ready to go back for the summer? to the motherland?”

“yeah, i guess.” he replies, sounding oddly deflated for someone normally as cordially bubbly as him. despite the melancholy nature apparent in his tone, his gaze had returned upwards, intently focused upon the stars. only then do you also take notice of the scene above the two of you. the moon - nearly full herself and lighting up the expanse of the late night sky, where seldom a cloud was spotted. instead, you could clearly make out multiple clusters of stars that you could only assume formed constellations...

you could’ve easily lost yourself in the drunk daydream that came to you: yangyang teaching you how to identify the constellations, one by one, hands overlapping as you trace their shape in the sky. how, in this dream, your back is pressed firmly against his chest, and his breath tickles your ear with each symbol that he names for you. had you indulged in the fantasy for any longer, however, you would’ve missed the sliver of truth that just slipped past the real yangyang’s lips:

“sometimes, back home in deuts-, i mean like, germany, my sister and i we like, lived in the attic. well, our room was in the attic. we didn’t like, sleep together or anything. that would be weird.”

your blank stare served as your only reaction to the raw, honest ramble, with the moon providing just enough glow to the night sky that you could still make out yangyang’s cheeks darken in embarrassment, the boy coughing to clear the air. a moment later, he tried again.

“our parents probably should’ve installed, like, child locks on the windows up there, because on a clear night we would sneak out onto the roof. to stargaze. look at the milky way.”

“it’s honestly their own fault. when we first moved to dusseldorf, our parents would take us hiking up in the mountains.” you noticed then his hands were fidgeting nervously as he spoke, cracking a knuckle or picking at a nail. “sometimes we’d camp, and like. when the sun would set. the sky-”

he suddenly gestured widely, thrusting both arms outward and upward at the expanse of the world above the two of you, his lips puckered and brows furrowed as a mock explosion noise filled the air. you couldn’t help but laugh at the display yangyang had just put on, and his own encompassing, toothy grin joined yours not long after.

“i swear, we could see, like, the entire galaxy. and then some.”

“and how does this compare?” you knew it was an unfair question to ask of him. how could anything compare to the beauty he had just described for you? but you had found him stargazing, had interrupted his focus so selfishly. and for what, to satisfy your foolish curiosity?

“well,” yangyang’s voice felt like an emergency brake had just been pulled in your brain, curtailing your racing thoughts. “the view in dusseldorf can’t be beat.”

of course.

“but the company,” he turns to look at you, and it was your turn to turn crimson with his next words: “you, you’re y- schone, ganz schonen…” thrusting his arms out widely again in an exaggerated effort to translate, to emphasize exactly what he was trying to say in this moment. except there was no need, for the fault was all your own, and you understood exactly what he was trying to convey.

you had forgotten yet another fact about yangyang, perhaps the most crucial: he was a master flirt.

#yangyang #yangyang fanfic #liu yangyang #wayv #wayv fic #wayv fanfiction #nct fanfic #yangyang x reader #yangyang scenario #wayv x reader #yangyang fanfiction #wayv fluff #nct fluff

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msfcatlover · 3 years

Text

Me: *rereads my old Portal fics*

Me: “Y’know, some of these are still pretty good! Maybe I should replay the games, and give writing these another shot...”

My brain, always ready with AUs and my latest hyperfixation: TMA crossover with Jon as Caroline, but he doesn’t lose himself in the upload process.

Me: “I... I don’t know if that would work...”

My brain, refusing to be derailed: His robot name could be “Self-aware Intelligent Machine Simulation.” SIMS for short.

Me: “That’s not a great robot name.”

My brain: No worse than “Genetic Lifeform and Disk Operating System.”

Me: “.......Fair.”

My brain: Testing is like statements; he doesn’t want to like it, but it’s addictive and eventually he kinda needs it to stay sane. He regularly gets in trouble for trying to make the tests less dangerous for the test subjects, because like... draining the acid out of the acid pit ruins the integrity or something.

My brain: It actually makes no difference, but obviously Jonah is Cave in this crossover. He’s researching immortality, and this is just one of the ways he keeps Jon under control.

Me: “Elias was his first attempt?”

My brain: Yeah, but it was just a brain transplant. Now he’s worried about the integrity of his brain itself, I mean, physically it’s getting pretty old. And it’s not like aging is fun anyway.

Me: “So, I assume Martin’s Chell then.”

My brain: Obviously.

Me: “Obviously. Where does everyone else fit?”

My brain: Daisy and Basira are trying to get the whole company shut down for horrible human rights violations, but are struggling to find evidence. They go undercover as test subjects, only to realize they’re in too deep and have to fight for survival.

My brain: Melanie’s a reporter, supposedly doing a profile on Jonah, but secretly investigating all the disappearances that keep happening amongst the staff. Georgie brought her in on the case when Jon stopped answering all calls.

Me: “Tim and Sasha?”

My brain: Scientists, were on the same team as Jon. Might get kicked down to test subjects for asking too many questions about his “transfer to the AI department.”

Me: “Wait. All of this is pre-fall-of-Aperture. Doesn’t that take a lot of the punch out of making Jon our GLaDOS equivalent?”

My brain: ..............................

My brain: Mid-fall-of-Aperture. Terribly understaffed, running out of money, the “AI department” is literally just Jon on the paperwork, Jonah’s desperately pushing the testing/experiments to figure out the limits of brain-uploading before he loses access to the equipment.

Me: “I don’t think that scans.”

My brain: Sure it does! What’s the testing in the games even for anyways? It’s all cognitive, the portal gun itself only gets used in a handful of different ways.

My brain: Now the testing is specifically there to stress Jon out and test the stability of his personality matrix; no point in uploading yourself if the first major issue you run into corrupts your code or causes a major error. It puts Jon through the wringer, even zapping him with viruses and stuff, to ensure the process works, because Jonah doesn’t have the time or supplies for more than one test subject.

Me: “......huh.”

My brain, getting more excited: Merge the Eye-pocalypse and Prentiss attacks! Some sort of biological agent gets loose in the facility, and Jon hacks the security system to try and stop it. Any hermetically sealed area of the facility gets locked down, and he gasses the rest of the facility to keep the contaminants from spreading.

My brain: But they’re underground and the ventilation system isn’t the best maintained, so he can’t risk letting anyone out for fear they’ll get poisoned too. Just has to wait for the gas to rise up out of the facility on its own.

Me: “OH! So from the perspective of everyone in the testing tracks, this AI has just gone completely rogue and taken over the facility, killing a whole bunch of people and trapping them inside!”

Me: “I bet Jonah’s office is basically a fortress, and he still has security access to cameras and intercom, so he just eggs them on. Because this is an insurance nightmare, he wants to upload himself ASAP, so Jonah tells them there’s a manual override procedure for SIMS, but he can’t do it alone. They need to get through the testing, reach the central control chamber, and help him deactivate SIMS before they’ll be able to leave the facility. But actually, he’s planning to delete Jon entirely and replace him in the mainframe!”

My brain: Like the bastard he is.

Me: “So now, everyone’s in this weird limbo of trying to figure out what to do and who to trust. I mean, obviously in the AI apocalypse you want to trust your fellow humans, and SIMS did just gas the whole facility and trapped them in the testing tracks, but on the other hand ‘Elias’ is a shady bastard and SIMS isn’t always that bad?”

Me: “Like, sure, it can be pushy about testing and you can’t expect a robot to be good at emotions, but sometimes it’ll do something like ask for a verbal check-in because they’ve been down there a while and that can be psychologically hard on most humans? Someone complains about food, and SIMS sounds almost genuine when apologizing for not having anything else that can be safely transported to the testing tracks at this time. Once, Martin found a corner away from the cameras to take a nap in, and he’d swear SIMS was actually panicking over not being able to find Martin when he woke up.”

My brain: Tim and Sasha make snide, tired jokes about Jon giving the damn thing all his social awkwardness, as well as his name and voice (for some god-awful, unknowable reason.) They don’t want to let SIMS endear itself to them, knowing it probably killed Jon.

Me: “No, no, knowing that it killed Jon. They absolutely ask at some point if Jon’s okay and are told that amongst the however-many living staff members that are left, Jonathan Sims is not amongst them. What else are they to assume, other than that Jon’s been gassed by his own creation?”

My brain: Oooh...

Me: “Martin’s the only one who actually feels endeared to SIMS by the time they meet up, partially because he’s the only one who was trapped alone. Tim and Sasha were together, and already have reason to hold a grudge. Daisy, Basira, and Melanie met up early and spend a lot of free time fantasizing about smashing the damn computer when they find it.”

Me: “Martin was alone and he hates it, so he tries talking to SIMS, and is a little surprised when SIMS talks back. They’re not always pleasant conversations, SIMS can be curt and doesn’t have much personal info to share (being a computer and all,) but Martin does start to get a grasp on the situation as it must have at least appeared to SIMS when he pulled the lockdown-tigger. And for a supposedly evil computer, SIMS can be surprisingly helpful and seems almost as upset by the situation as the humans are.”

My brain: And there was that odd moment after Martin convinced SIMS to stop calling him “Mr. Blackwood,” and SIMS seemed almost flustered before very softly responding, “...Martin, then.”

Me: “Awww... please tell me Jon’s not actually dead, I need them to take him with them at the end...”

My brain: Suspended animation. The brain is still a vital part of the machine, but it never ages or degrades thanks to whatever combo of chemicals and cryosleep Jonah used to preserve him. Part of Jonah’s “manual override” involves adding a high-powered hard drive or four to replace the need for an organic brain, making full digitization possible.

Me: “But where’s he stored? He can’t just be strung up in the middle of the machine, that’d be unsustainable and Jonah would never let anyone within a hundred yards of it lest they realize the truth! A cryotank in a fake computer bank? A stasis tube hidden amongst the wiring, which they could discover while clambering about installing the hard drives?”

My brain: A cold room disguised as a locked closet or something, with the upload chair still inside of it? Only Jonah has the passcode, technically, and he was planning to go in while everyone else had their own tasks to do, just shove Jon’s body out and plug himself in, leaving Jon to finally die on the floor just a short distance from his friends while Jonah replaced him in the machine, removed the safeties, and escaped into the internet?

Me: “Oh, and Jon gave them a universal override or something to get them out of a dangerous situation towards the end! It actually leaves half the group feeling pretty low, having the thing they’re trying to destroy just hand them the key to its destruction out of pure, innocent trust.”

Me: “Then while Jonah’s distracted giving out instructions, Martin (useless with computers,) wanders over and opens the door, letting out a gust of cold air with a hiss. Martin coughs on the escaping gasses, and Jonah rushes to say that the cold room is very delicate, and ought not to be tampered with by people who don’t know what they’re doing—“

My brain: —but Martin blinks back the stinging, shock-induced tears, eyes adjusting to the dark of the closet and gasps.

Me: “And Martin’s only ever seen Jon in passing, really, they never properly worked together. But he was a little sweet on him even back then, and he’s heard the stories from Tim and Sasha, and he’s spent the last several weeks getting to know SIMS...”

My brain: ...He quickly calls Tim and Sasha over to confirm, just in case he’s got it wrong somehow. They’re just as shocked that Jon’s in there, with all his notes tucked away behind him revealing what really happened. Jonah tries to talk his way out of it, but is quickly arrested by Basira and Daisy.

Me: “Sasha finishes the notes first and makes her way back out. She’s shaking, overwhelmed with rage and grief and horror, and punches ‘Elias’ so hard he falls to the floor.”

My brain: Jonah starts to say something about assault, but Melanie congratulates Sasha for stopping him and Basira, completely deadpan, adds, “We all saw him make a break for it.”

Me: “Jonah shuts the fuck up.”

My brain: Part of SIMS’ programming was not being allowed to answer to “Jon” anymore. He never outright denies being Jon, just corrects people that he is the Self-aware Intelligent Machine Simulation. Tim finishes the notes, makes it to the cold room door, looks into the nearest camera and shakily asks, “Jon?”

Me: “For the first time, there’s a solid three beat pause before the intercom answers, softly and less robotically than before, ‘...Yes, Tim?’”

My brain: Tim starts crying.

Me: “Of course he does! He’s been grieving Jon for weeks at this point, trying not to let it show just how sad and angry he was that it all ended like this, and now it turns out that not only is Jon alive, he never actually left them at all! All those months thinking Jon ghosted them, left them behind in R&D for greener pastures, and Jon was all-but-dead in a cold room the whole time, and none of them ever knew! The relief, the joy, the guilt, the lingering bitter grief and rage, it’s overwhelming. Who wouldn’t cry?”

My brain: It takes them a few days to figure out the download procedure to return Jon to his body, especially since Jonah can’t be trusted on this front. Tim and Sasha are the techies, and they recruit Melanie and Basira for extra hands. (Martin’s still terrible with machines, and Daisy needs to watch Jonah to make sure he doesn’t escape.)

My brain: Martin, feeling useless, stays by Jon’s side in the cold room.

Me: “When Jon wakes up, Martin’s the first thing he sees.”

My brain: Martin sees him moving, meets his eyes, and gasps, “Jon?” Jon nods and tries to say something, but his throat is dry and his voice won’t work. Martin scrambles to get him a glass of water and steadies Jon’s hands as he drinks it. When he lowers the glass, Martin cautiously asks if Jon’s feeling better.

Me: “Jon just smiles and answers, ‘You said my name.’”

My brain: Martin’s confused. “What else would I call you?”

Me: “Jon shakes his head. ‘I just... don’t think I’ve heard you say it before. Certainly not to me. It’s... nice.’”

My brain: Martin laughs helplessly and says it again. “Jon.” Jon’s smile brightens, and Martin can’t help stepping closer, repeating Jon’s name again. Jon laughs along.

Me: “It’s on instinct that Martin takes the empty glass and sets it to the side, leans over the chair, touches Jon’s shoulder, cups his cheek. He hesitates when they’re nose to nose, breathing the same air, shockingly warm even when Jon’s skin is still cold to the touch. He meets Jon’s eyes and swallows. ‘Is this okay?’”

My brain: Close enough to feel the small, inaudible gasp before Jon whispers, “Please.”

Me: “They only get one short kiss in before the door opens and Tim makes a scandalized noise before loudly declaring this unfair and blatant favoritism. Martin all but jumps away, but Jon just rolls his eyes and thanks Tim for saving him. As the others pile in —Sasha claiming she did all the work, Basira needing to know if Jon’s up for making an official statement, Melanie both needing to pass on a message from Georgie and wanting an exclusive interview for her expose— Martin can already feel himself fading into the background, even as he and Tim help Jon to his feet.”

My brain: At least until Jon lingers, fingers lightly resting against Martin’s arm, and looks up at him with hope in his eyes. “Later?”

Me: “Martin’s not entirely sure what Jon’s asking (Jon isn’t really either,) but he agrees anyway. He doesn’t even hesitate.”

My brain:

Me:

My brain:

Me:

My brain:

Me: “.....WELL FUCK.”

My brain, smug despite it being 4:30am: Told you it was a good idea.

Me: “I hate you so much.”

#tma #the magnus archives #tma fanfic #portal #jonathan sims #jarchavist #jon sims #tma jon #tma fic #portal fic #portal fanfic #my life #mine #my writing #tma: all about jon #tma: martin #tma s1 crew #tma expanded social circle #tma: the asshole in charge

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fablesrose · 3 years

Text

Tell Me a Story 1

Description: The local mafia has served Y/n well previously, but with the way things are going now, enough is enough. Instead of getting out, why not take everything down? So she makes a few calls, but things don’t always go to plan.

Word count: 2,205

Pairing: cop!Dean x mafia!reader

Square filled: fake dating

Warnings: none this chapter

Masterlist ~ Bingo Masterlist

Remaining parts will be in the Bingo Masterlist

A/n: This is for @girl-next-door-writes‘s Make Me Feel Bingo. I wanted to write a specific scene and then made a whole AU in order for this to work and it became infinitely more complicated than it needed to be. Enjoy!

“Tell me a story.”

Chuck was a dangerous man. He didn’t look it, but he had an eye and a leash where you would never expect it all over the city. No one knew what he wanted, what his end goal was, maybe that was what made him dangerous.

Those words made me nervous. Chuck loved a good story and if the man next to me didn’t tell one up to his standard, then it wouldn’t end well for either of us.

This was all my idea. It was me who got the cops involved. I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Sam, I know you don’t want to hear from me, but-”

“What do you need?”

“The Fallen isn’t doing too hot right now.”

“I can help you get out Y-”

“It’s not as simple as when you slipped between the cracks Sam,” I hissed at him through the phone. I don’t know why I even tracked him down, he had a good life now, but I needed to do something.

“Simple? You know it wasn’t simple.” Sam sounded offended.

“Exactly. It wasn’t when you did it, and like Hell is it simple now. It’s a thousand times worse in every way since you left. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know where to go.”

“Okay, fine, we’ll figure something out.”

“Thanks- Someone’s coming, don’t contact me in any way for at least four days. You know the drill.” I hung up the phone and went on my daily business.

Four days later I received a text with a phone number in it, “He’s clean. He’ll help.”

I saved the number in my phone and deleted the conversation. I had to tread lightly.

I tried to control my anxiety. If I was found out I wouldn’t be surprised if Chuck burned the whole city to the ground.

So needless to say I did a fantastic job of hiding my anxiety.

Eventually, when I was sure that I was alone I pulled up the number Sam gave me. I guess it was now or never.

The phone rang a couple of times before a man picked up and rattled off his law enforcement credentials and his name. Okay, maybe this guy could help me.

I took a deep breath and spoke out loud the sentence I had been practicing in my head for the last few days which was a risk in and of itself, “I’m a high ranking member of The Fallen and would like to be of assistance in taking down the current, highly wanted, leader of said… organization.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, “Pardon?”

I sighed, my anxiety creeping back in, but what came out was an annoyed clip, “I said I’d like to snitch on my boss, a highly wanted individual, now can you help me get rid of him, or did Sam lie to me?”

“You know Sam?”

“Well, no der.” I tried to calm my beating heart, but the more I thought about it, the more it seemed like a mistake, “I’m sorry for wasting your time, this was a mistake.”

“No no, wait.” I heard him swallow, “I’m going to talk to some people, let me see what I can do okay?”

My voice cracked, “Okay.”

The call ended, and all I could think was, Well there’s no backing out now.

Never before had I felt like I was in a dystopian novel more than this chapter of my life. I was nervous, like even the TVs were watching my every move to see if I was thinking traitorous thoughts, straight out of “1984.”

Every meeting, every glance in my direction, every moment of silence, and I swore everyone there already knew what I had done. But I kept a straight face in the serious moments, laughed when it was polite, and I wasn’t dead yet.

The day came when I met him in person. The safest place I could think of was my apartment. I paced back and forth for the whole afternoon constantly watching the clock, then it seemed like ten minutes after four it was six o’clock already. He was due to my doorstep any minute now.

A knock came to the door and I felt stone cold.

Slow steps took me to the sound. I opened the door a crack to see who it was. A tall man stood on the other side, in casual clothes thank goodness. He was casually looking around, but to the trained eye, I could tell he was watching to see if anyone was paying special attention.

“Yes?” Don’t give too much away, don’t volunteer any information. Yet.

He finally focused on me and I took into account the strong structure to his face, one could either call him intimidating or handsome, depending on his mood. Right now he was walking the line while leaning towards the former.

“I believe you’ve been expecting me,” he spoke quietly, his voice sounded very similar to the one I heard on the phone, but one could never be too careful.

“Oh? And what’s the connection between us?” I hoped my face was perfect innocence, but I knew my eyes were calculating and cautious.

“Sam.”

I closed the door to unlock the chain. I quickly let him in.

“I assume it’s safe here?” His eyes scanned the room, looking for anything that could be a problem.

I locked the door behind him, “As safe a place as any. I personally had soundproofing installed. Not many people come here, less chance for bugs. Neighbors are friendly, mostly elderly couples.”

“I was going to say, pretty small apartment for someone in the mob,” he extended a hand for me to shake, “Dean Winchester.”

I huffed, “Yeah, it’s kinda my job to blend in. Not all of us have Hollywood mansions. I glanced at him from the kitchen as I grabbed two glasses, “I see height runs in the family.”

“Somethin’ like that,” Dean sat on the couch in the living room.

I handed him a drink, “So...”

“So indeed,” he swirled the liquid in the glass before setting it on the side table, “I’m currently being transferred from the my current department a couple hours away to the local PD. Once that’s done I will be going under cover. You will be my in. Does that work?”

I drained my own drink, “Swimmingly.” I set my own glass on the floor by the feet of the chair I was sitting in, “I honestly can’t believe I’m doing this.” I spoke it mostly to myself, but he heard it all the same.

“Yeah, why are you doing this? What made you join in the first place only to try and tear it all down?”

I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the chair. I guess I should have seen the question coming. “I joined The Fallen when I was a lot younger. Why does anyone join the mafia?”

“Protection, a safe place to do illegal things, they’re desperate?”

I chuckled, “And usually somewhere to belong, but yeah, you hit the nail on the head. I was desperate. Nowhere to go. And let’s leave it at that.” I started cleaning my fingernails, my hands needing something to do. “It was a classic mafia back then. Don’t mess with us, we don’t mess with you. If you do, you better watch your back. It was okay. It was safe. That was under this guy named Nick. He’s in prison now, but you probably knew that already.”

Dean nodded his head.

“In the power vacuum he left behind, I helped get your brother out. Covered his tracks, but there wasn’t anyone to follow them. Sounds like he’s got a nice life now.”

“Why didn’t you get out with him?”

“Still didn’t have anywhere to go. Sam, he’s smart. Got back into school, had a nice girl waiting for him on the other side. I didn’t have any of that. The Fallen was all I had, figured this was better than being on the run from myself.” I sighed, “Anyway, Crowley comes in. He’s a businessman at heart. He made the community safer. Kept local businesses afloat. It felt like we were doing something good.”

I smiled to myself. Happier times.

“I guess I got soft.” I looked up from my hands into his serious face, “Now Chuck has the whole city wrapped around his twisted finger. No one knows what he wants. He’s got no honor system-”

Dean scoffed.

“Hey, it might not have been much, but Crowley and Nick? They had their own code that if you knew what it was, then nothing surprised you. Chuck’s a wild card. He’s destroying everything good about this place, and like it or not, I don’t. And if I can do something about it, I’m going to. Okay?”

Dean set his jaw and nodded.

“So how do you wanna play this mister hot shot cop?”

“That’s a good question, one that you are gonna answer.”

I raised my eyebrows, “Oh?”

He shifted to a more relaxed position on the couch, “Yup. You’re the expert, so how are you gonna bring me in? I’ve got to observe, gather information and evidence, and hopefully set him up so we can catch him in the act of doing something ‘life in prison’ worthy.”

“Can we get a death sentence?”

Dean slowly gained a more guarded posture, “And why would you want that?” As Dean relaxed he seemed more personable, but with that one statement he looked suspicious of me and my motives. His eyes gained that hard look that could break steel and I was terrified to see him angry.

I curled in on myself, “Past experience.”

“I’m gonna need to know this kind of stuff sweetheart.”

“Look, we both know life in prison isn’t a guarantee. Nick was supposed to get a life sentence, but he got out. Now Crowley’s dead and Chuck is in power.” There was a pause where neither of us spoke. “There’s always something. You’re in law enforcement. You should know that.”

He sighed before nodding once again, “Fine, we’ll see what we can do and what we can get, okay?”

“Okay.”

“How are you going to get me in?”

I rubbed my temples. How was I going to get him in? “I think our best option is for me to just bring you in as a new recruit. No deals, tell him the least information possible. Whoever brings someone new in becomes their mentor so that’ll work out...” This was going to be hard. Chuck was a difficult target. “We’ll say you’re new in town. You desperately need some extra cash, so you’re willing to join. You don’t really care what you have to do. The trick is to lie the least amount as possible. Chuck doesn’t like liars, and he can always find out information. So I hope there aren’t many people who know you’re doing this.” I locked eyes with him.

“No, not many at all.”

“I hope you’re right, or we’re both dead.”

This conversation ran through my head as we stood in front of Chuck. It was the monthly meeting, where everything you could think of was discussed, including new members.

“So, there’s a new face.” Chuck was looking at the pair of us, a passive invitation.

I stepped forward with as much confidence as I could muster, “Yes, this is new recruit-”

“Officer Dean Winchester, yes I know.”

I nearly choked as my eyes widened in fear and surprise. I glanced at Dean and all I could think was, “We’re dead.”

“Now the question is, why does the new cop in town want to join the local mob?” Chuck stood from his chair and walked around, “Little short on cash, need a little excitement?”

Dean chuckled, but I could tell he was hiding his nervousness, “Yeah, something like that.”

“Good, what’s one more cop on the payroll? You’re in.” Chuck finally looked back at the two of us, and my heart was still pounding out of my chest despite how impossibly well this was going, “Oh, you didn’t know he was a cop did you? Looks like some couples therapy material.”

I swallowed, but couldn’t hide my confusion, couples therapy?

“Oh come on! It’s obvious!” Chuck hesitated, “Well maybe not obvious, but Y/n’s not the hook-up type.”

I blushed, this was getting out of hand, but as long as Chuck wasn’t going to kill me, I would put up with it the best I could.

Chuck clapped and rubbed his hands together, “Oh I love a good romance. So how did you guys meet?”

Dean seemed to snap into it, or maybe it was me who was out of it, I’m not sure, but Dean grabbed my hand and intertwined our fingers.

“I don’t know, sir, I’m not much of a story teller.”

“Come on Dean.” Chuck smiled, a little too eagerly.

I tightened my grip on Dean’s hand, mostly out of anxiousness. I was out of options and stocked up on fear. It was up to him to get us the hell out of here.

“Tell me a story.”

Best Buds Taglist: @kitkatd7 @snarky--starky @confetti-its-an-imagine-blog @kaogasm

Dean: @akshi8278 @msmarvelouswinchester

#dean x reader #cop au #mafia au #fake dating #spncreatorsdaily #Girl Next Door's Make Me Feel Bingo #dean winchester #make me feel bingo #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester imagines #dean x y/n #tell me a story

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wouldduskwood · 3 years

Text

Descendants of Despair Part 53

As I lay beside Jake, my breathing returned to normal and the crawling feeling had been replaced with the warmth of his touch. I thought about just how much I had changed. Dan had hit a raw spot when he had hinted at my weakness. I had been strong for so long, so long I couldn’t even remember a time where resilience and survival wasn’t a driving force in my life. Jake had helped tame that to an extent. I could rely on him to pick up on the things that I may miss otherwise. I had wondered if it meant I was getting weak. Dan’s words reiterated those concerns. But now I saw my behaviour for what it really was. Allowing someone into my world had not made me weak, instead it had made me stronger. His strength became my strength. Relying on him wasn’t weak, it was right. I didn’t have to manipulate him to get him to do what I needed. I didn’t have to question whether he was manipulating me. He had seen me at my worst and still loved me. I could be my true self, and that was something I don’t think I had ever really seen before. The true self that allowed myself to feel, to trust, to love...to be vulnerable. As I drifted off to sleep, I contented myself with the thought that I had been strong enough to lay Dan on his ass without hesitation. My instincts were still there, as strong as always.

I startled awake relatively early to the light from the dimly lit lamp. The softness of the bed and comfort of the room was unnerving. I felt as though it was lowering my defenses. Jake was already awake as well, holding me lightly but staring at the ceiling in quiet contemplation. “It’s weird, isn’t it?” I asked quietly. Jake nodded thoughtfully. “I guess discomfort has become comfortable to us?” he questioned and sighed. “I should be happy, we had an amazing night...I slept in more comfort than I have in a long time, yet somehow it just doesn’t feel right.” “Check your laptop,” I murmured, sitting myself up on the comfortable bed, noting vaguely that my muscles didn’t hurt as much as they did when I slept on the floor, or the sidewalk, or the riverbank. It should have felt great, instead it just increased my level of unease. I got up with Jake and we got dressed, then I began pacing back and forth. I was hungry, we hadn’t eaten since yesterday before meeting up with Dan. Glancing around the room, I picked up my backpack and looked inside for anything of substance. As I scavenged, Jake appeared beside me and handed me an energy bar. “I grabbed a couple of these from the car last night. Thought we might need something. We can get some proper breakfast after I have checked where we are at,” he said as he opened his own bar and began chewing on it.

I accepted Jake’s offer thankfully, and began eating, sitting close to him, watching what he was doing on the laptop screen. Because his laptop was so limited, he flicked from screen to screen at near lightning speed. I wasn’t sure how he was keeping up with everything that was going on, but he seemed pretty sure of himself so I just sat and watched in admiration, trying to pick up strings of code that I could recognise. “Hm,” I mumbled quietly. “Yes?” Jake asked, pausing briefly in his screen flicking and typing. “Nothing, just...you’re still keeping track of Richy?” I asked. “You saw that, huh?” Jake replied. I was about to apologise for intruding into his private world when he continued speaking. “Well done, I am impressed. You know a fair bit about programming to pick up on that from the small strings you must have seen.” I shrugged in embarrassment. I was hardly a hacker of his calibre. “You don’t mind me watching?” I asked in wonder. Jake’s response shocked me as he began to laugh.

I glared at him as he turned to face me, shaking his head to try and gain control of himself. “Here’s the thing,” he replied soothingly. “I love you and I trust you. Usually my trust in people is based on what I have been able to dig up about them online. Not with you, you are a blank entity online. Anyway, I guess what I’m trying to say is, my reaction to you hadn’t made sense until I decided that you were made for me, as dumb as that sounds, I think of you as a soulmate...if they were to exist. Because you are truly part of me, I have made everything I do part of you as well. You have full access to my set up remember? You also have full access to my phone through yours. Everything I am, it is you.”

Jake’s response made me happy. I was thinking and feeling along the same lines as him. I still wasn’t as comfortable at admitting it as he was, so turned away from his gaze and then pouted as he giggled at my reaction. “It’s okay, you don’t have to say it, I know how much you love me,” he replied smugly. I growled under my breath then leaped on him, but he was already expecting my response and caught me with a grin. “Okay, maybe we should get you some proper food eh?” he asked, trying to stifle his giggles. “Urgh,” I groaned. Jake closed his laptop and packed it in a bag then motioned for me to gather my gear as well. I knew he was doing this just so that he could save me from further embarrassment, but I appreciated it nonetheless. If we stayed here much longer, I knew the walls would begin to close in around me. This often happened when I was stuck in small spaces for long periods of time. There were very few escape routes from enclosed spaces.

Once we had cleared out the motel room of our personal belongings, we dropped the key on the table then put our hoods up and left. It was too early to head to meet up with Dan, so we had a little time to fill in before we would need to head back to the prison. “Let’s go through a drive thru,” Jake suggested. “Then we can decide on our next steps.” I nodded in relief. The prospect of food, even takeaway food, was appealing and being able to stay with Jake and hash out future moves was even better.

The first drive thru we saw, Jake pulled in and we argued briefly over the least disgusting options from the menu before both deciding on our breakfast. Jake pulled up to the window with his head down, we paid, got our order and left. I picked up my bag and sniffed it in mild disgust. Jake glanced at me and grinned. “Okay, I know, not the best but at least it's something.” I raised an eyebrow as I pulled my breakfast muffin from the bag. “...is it though?...” I asked. Jake laughed as he pulled the car over near a deserted park. “Okay, gross food is still food,” he grinned as he dug into his bag and began to eat. I had to admit, gross take away food certainly was better than no food at all. I had gotten accustomed to healthier eating since leaving the street. I was sick of always getting sick and I wanted to maintain my physical health...it is far easier to run when you aren’t ill or unfit.

“So, the plan?” Jake asked. “I take it there is a bit more to it than the simple stuff you gave the buffoon.” I snickered in response then became angry at myself so nudged Jake with my elbow. “Sorry,” he responded with a sly grin, no doubt relishing in my slip up. “Yeah, you need to have the cameras going, follow everything outside. If something happens, you need to get a signal to me without digital means. I can’t take my phone in with me, they will confiscate it until I leave and I would rather they had no access to it at all. I’m assuming Dan will have his, but again we won’t have access to it while in there.” I paused to take a breath and have a sip of water. Jake was thoughtful for a moment.

“Okay, the programme you installed that gave me access to their system also gave me access to their alarms. If something happens, I will set off some form of alarm, nothing major that would cause a lockdown, but enough of a distraction that you can get out and hopefully it will draw the man without a face away.”

“Wow…” I gasped, suddenly impressed. He had solved the issue so quickly. I guessed when he had seen his chance to take control of their security, he had made sure he had as much control as he could. “Fuck Jake, you’re incredible!” I declared earnestly. “Uh...there is one other thing I want to do before we go. I may not get time after...I want to take down the traps on the roofs, in case an unsuspecting person gets hurt. I also want to look at whether the trap was tampered with on the roof the man without a face was waiting on.” I requested hesitantly. I knew I’d be by myself up there and Jake wouldn’t be thrilled with the idea. “I can’t stop it from happening can I?” Jake asked sadly. “No, not this time. It’s important to me.” I replied bluntly. We didn’t need someone harmed because of us. If the Police found any trace of it, it would just be another reason for them to be chasing us. Not something I was willing to risk. The main drive though was because I was frustrated with not being able to understand how the man without a face had gotten past our defenses. The more I knew about him the better. “Okay, but this time I’m coming too. We will park as far away as we can, where there is access to the roofing around that area. Do you agree?” I thought for a moment, glaring at him intently. “Ugh, fine. But you keep your face hidden the entire time. You dismantle any cameras around the area first and if there is anybody looking at you, you go!” I replied in an attempt at compromise. Jake nodded solemnly and started the car.

Part 54

#duskwood jake x #duskwood jakexplayer #duskwood jake x player #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood fanfic #duskwood jakexmc fanfic #duskwood #duskwood jakexmc #fanfiction #fanfic #duskwood jake #jake x mc #jakexmc #hackerman

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merryfortune · 3 years

Text

Happiness.

Ship: Ryoken/Spectre

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,293

Tags: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Toxic Relationships, Healing, Past/Referenced Suicidal Thoughts

Ryoken had been happier of late.

That should not have been of Spectre’s concern, but it was. It was actually an entire root of anxiety for him.

Spectre had noticed it once he was off bedrest, coming out of his coma after his duel with Ai. There was a peculiarity to Ryoken’s behaviour. Smiles that were just a little bit too carefree for someone who had so closely and almost lost it all. Spectre wanted to assume that it was because all the Ignis were finally eliminated but he was certain that it was something else.

He recalled the ice cold fear that he felt in Ryoken’s arms very well. He was there when Spectre had woken up, with a start, like he had just come tumbling out of a nightmare but no. There had been nothingness, only an abyss. All there had been was a dream of darkness. The other Lieutenants concurred, their punishments were similar: just endless darkness per the coding of the Dark Ignis.

But even from that embrace, both celebratory and mournful, Spectre had sensed that there was something incredibly wrong. Or was at least going to be an aberration against what he considered normalcy. Ryoken’s strange happiness was absolutely the outcome of that precognition that Spectre had.

He had so badly wanted to enjoy the hug from Ryoken but his own melancholy had ruined it. That’s what Spectre had scolded himself for at first. Ryoken was so overjoyed that Spectre was safe and awake and he had ruined it. All because he was groggy and afraid. Afraid of losing what he had known for the past ten years.

What were the Knights of Hanoi to do, if their mission had been completed?

Was he necessary to Ryoken? Or needed by Ryoken?

Those were all questions that he had entertained for quite some time but never paid much attention as the answer twisted suicidally, after all. As Ryoken held Spectre, tears in his eyes, hugging him so tightly, Spectre would have preferred to have never woken up at all as he could have avoided all those questions from before that were now plaguing him worse than ever.

Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately for Spectre, things weren’t quite so fragile as he feared. Things didn’t break quite so ceremoniously as Spectre had expected. It almost felt like a holiday or a vacation but at ‘home’, how things steered away from their norm but without ever parting into unknown depths or territories. They still ate together, did work together, but their work was more mundane than their previous forays into cyber criminality. It was more piecework to put a little bit of money in the bank from people who had no idea they were hiring the infamous Knights of Hanoi’s upper echelon.

Yet it was this dullness and not quite peacefulness that made Spectre feel as though he were about to snap like a duressed rubber band. He repressed it, however. He did not want to - literally - rock the boat but it made him feel more like a ghost than usual. More of a shade than his usual self, some fainter mimicry of the person that he tried to be and no one noticed.

Why did no one notice?

He wished that Ryoken, at the very least, would notice that something was awry with him but Ryoken was happy now.

Why was Ryoken so happy now?

That question Spectre asked himself in his irritable despair shocked him. It wasn’t quite a revelation but it was an angle that he had not yet considered and mulled over in his olympian efforts to make himself feel worse whilst swaddling himself in the mantra that he was outwardly fine. It tied in well with his intuition that Ryoken was happy for reasons outside of the Knights of Hanoi’s mission having finally been fulfilled.

The realisation that followed next rushed down on Spectre. He needed to know what had happened to Ryoken to make him so seemingly happy. It was vitally important, Spectre convinced himself and so, he did what he considered what he did best. He tried to find out and he was very good at finding out things.

He didn’t like to proceed blindly, so he researched. He followed breadcrumbs and other trails where permissible but he was stalled out here. No matter how sly he acted, whether he was probing any of the Lieutenants or whether he trying to extract half-truths or the like from Ryoken.

Ryoken cottoned on fairly quickly, actually. Quicker than Spectre had hoped but that’s what he loved about Ryoken. But even so, Spectre felt rejected by the cold wariness I. Ryoken’s eyes as he asked, “Why are you prying into the events after your stasis? The matter has been long since resolved. It is none of your concern.”

And so, the rubber band that was Spectre snapped and he snapped back, “I know you are hiding something. I am sick of being left in the dark.”

Spectre stunned himself with how he sneered. How he snarled. How he snapped. He had never snapped or raised his voice at Ryoken. Ever. Over anything. His heart quaked with adrenaline and guilt but if Spectre was going to take the rare offense and embrace his rage, he decided that he best go all in, no matter the consequence or heartbreak. His fist balled up by his side and his glare was unlike Ryoken had ever seen upon his face before.

“I’m trying to protect you.” Ryoken sighed, a plea for Spectre to be reasonable and to relent was implicit to his exhale. To fall in line and be obedient per usual but no. It was time for the dog to bite it’s master.

“And what, pray tell, might you be protecting me from?” Spectre asked, his voice was tight and terse.

Ryoken’s face was pitiful, “From happiness.”

Happiness. That accursed word. It wasn’t the answer that Spectre had been expecting but he couldn’t say that he was surprised by it either. He had been taught from a very early age that happiness could be taken from him easily. Thus he ardently cherished and was grateful for whatever crumb that he could be given but he found it far more satisfying to be the vector that took happiness from others. It was only fair. Other children were happy, Spectre was not. It only made sense to him that other people were not allowed to be happy either. If anything, it was almost twistedly relieving to hear his decade long suspicion confirmed out loud. Even if it had to be by Ryoken.

Spectre’s irate expression said it all and Ryoken’s continuation of his statement was self-flagellating.

“My happiness, specifically. At least to start. I didn’t want you to have a bond with your Ignis lest I become second to it. When it was discovered that the best outcome for the Ignis was total elimination of all of them, I thought my selfishness noble.” Ryoken explained.

Spectre snorted. Became even more defensive than before.

“And I am still trying to protect you. I truly think this happiness would hurt you.” Ryoken said. “This happiness of mine you are so obsessed with because yes, you are excluded from it. Both purposefully and just by how the events of the Dark Ignis’s plan unfolded and occurred.”

“Just tell me.” Spectre snarled. He was getting teary in his frustration now.

His heart throbbed like it had been pierced as he recalled Earth’s death. Ryoken had salted that corpse well. He had done a very lousy job of trying to “protect” Spectre there with all the cruel things that he had said both in Spectre’s absence and his presence. Though if Ryoken was willing to guard this secret then perhaps he had learned from that incident. Perhaps Spectre should have cracked more during his duel with Lightning if his own nobility and loyalty was only going to peter out here.

“I had a duel with Soulburner and it felt more ceremonial than anything else. Myself, Soulburner, and Playmaker… it truly felt as though the Lost Incident had been put behind us and that is an incredibly freeing feeling and-”

“And not one I would understand, I take it?” Spectre interrupted Ryoken, sniveling.

Ryoken nodded sadly.

Spectre fumed. He felt alone. His face was red now and he bit his lower lip, begging his eyes to stop those damnable tears.

“I’m sorry-” Ryoken said, stepping forward, arms extended, for a hug.

“Don’t.” Spectre snapped.

With that, Spectre didn’t know what he might say next to his master but decided that was enough. He huffed, stepped aside, and made his retreat. He withdrew from the living room, letting Ryoken stand there, defeated and disappointed.

Spectre headed for his room and locked himself inside it. He had no idea what he was going to do now. His nerves were too set afire to sleep and all his brain wanted to do was pick apart everything that he and Ryoken had argued about. The compromise, he supposed, was to sit and stare at the wall. So, that’s exactly what he did. He just let his thoughts bristle and blunder, not even tiring of the awful emotions that he heavied himself with.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat at his desk for. Books that he had half attempted to read to take his mind off things strewn across it but he couldn’t make out the words in his anger and frustration. Then he heard a knock at the door.

“Spectre?” Ryoken called out. “I don’t want to leave our conversation like that.” He sounded pathetic.

“Go away.” Spectre told him, certain their fight would only escalate should they continue.

There was silence. It irked Spectre. It meant that Ryoken wasn’t walking away and letting things be. Per usual, he wanted to be the hero, the savior, the martyr. The whatever it was that he thought was.

A crackle of static disturbed the air. Spectre sighed. He supposed the intrusion to his room could be worse, Ryoken did have a master key assigned to his card, if he really wanted, he could open Spectre’s room and storm in. That crackle was Ryoken’s courtesy. Being a cruise ship, all the rooms were installed with speakers and radios. So, Spectre waited for an announcement meant solely for him in a state of irritation.

“Subject Number Four…” Ryoken began.

His voice cracked and Spectre knew he was holding back tears - or maybe he was afraid. Ryoken’s voice sounded distorted but purposefully so, like he was trying to make his voice sound higher, not to mention the echo as even whispering, Spectre could still hear him through the door. But it was how Ryoken had addressed him that disturbed him. Number Four. That was his label from the experiment; a number that suited him well, retroactively given his Ignis was the first to die and he, himself, was a ghost.

“I think you’re doing great.” Ryoken said.

Spectre sat excruciatingly still. He listened intently and somehow through the deafening sound of his heart racing in his chest. Was… was Ryoken…? A tear threatened to leak out the side of his eye. The imminent kindness was alien to Spectre as this was so familiar to how Ryoken conveyed his affection yet drastically different.

“You are braver and stronger than you realise.” Ryoken said. “It takes a very unique individual to smile and even laugh in the face of danger, I admire that. So think of three things that make you happy and never let go.”

Spectre got up and there was a hesitancy to his hand as he stood in front of the door. The passcode on his fingertips, reached out but not touching the plastic pad of the numbers just yet, and a lump in his throat. Even so, he spoke. He did as he was told. He thought of three things and he shared them with Ryoken.

“One, my Mother.” Spectre said, a tremble to his voice. “Two, beautiful things.” He typed in the passcode and his sliding door opened. He grinned but it was a very wobbly and wet grin. “Three, you.”

Ryoken smiled back and he was hugged by Spectre. Spectre buried his head in the crook of Ryoken’s neck and shoulders. Ryoken hugged him back.

“I’m sorry.” Spectre mumbled.

“I’m sorry, too.” Ryoken replied softly.

“I was… jealous. And anxious. I let that control me and I said some awful things, truly, Ryoken-sama, I apologise from the bottom of my heart.” Spectre murmured as he pulled back from the hug but Ryoken didn’t let him go, at least held his hands.

“I’m not entirely innocent either, I was being controlling and possessive.” Ryoken added. He shrugged, half-smiled. “The closure regarding the Lost Incident that we need is different, that’s… okay. I admire how unapologetic you are about your perspective and moving forward, I want to take inspiration from that in pursuit of my own happiness. So please, stay true to that as you pursue your happiness and healing. Even if we clash sometimes, and we will again as we pick up the pieces of what we need but that won’t change the fact that I care about you deeply. I love you, Spectre, and I don’t like fighting you.”

Spectre nodded, trying to ignore how he sniffled. Ryoken let go of one of Spectre’s hands so he could paw at his face, trying to make himself look presentable in the aftermath of all this. He then hugged Ryoken again and whispered, “I understand, I promise, I love you, too.”

Ryoken smiled, gladdened, consoled and though Spectre’s embrace was the tightest possible squeeze on him, it, too, carried a very freeing feeling as well.

#writing tag #respectfulshipping #yugioh vrains #vrains #yugioh #ryoken kogami #kogami ryoken #spectre (vrains)#a very sappy ending bc i am a very sappy person

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