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onlinedolly · 1 day ago

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SAVIOR COMPLEX

au where leon is a normal cop at raccoon city and you’re a pretty little thing he’s obsessed with ^___^

cw: stalking, kidnapping, drug use, dubcon, dry humping (?), hard language, dead dove do not eat, i think that’s it!

not proof read cuz i’m lazy lol

Leon, in his mind, was a good man.

He’d done a lot in his career, saved countless lives; so when he sees you he thinks it’s no different, not really. You were a young thing, pretty and too naive for your own good. Didn’t you know the world now? How cruel it could be? It made Leon sick to think about it, he’d only seen you once — pretty and smiling and all he could think was how the world was going to fuck you up eventually.

He began watching you then, like a good man does. Following you to your small apartment complex (on a side of town that put a sour taste in his mouth) every night, watching you from your window until you fell asleep, it was all precautionary really, he told himself. Had to make sure you were safe. That nothing bad would ever happen.

It’d been this way for a few weeks, maybe around a month or so until he witnessed the incident that really made his blood boil over. A man, taller and creepy, had been following you around the store for a while now, looking for his way in. Leon definitely couldn’t interject, not now, not when you didn’t know him, bound to just make the situation worse. So he watched, clenching the cart he had in his hand so tightly his knuckles turned white.

He almost interjected when he saw the man put his hand on your waist, watching as you cowered away as he grabbed something for you on a higher self. You poor, sweet thing, so naive and stupid. Leon decided then he had to do whatever it would take to help you. That’s what it was really, helping.

Leon was a good man.

It was harder than he originally thought taking you, you had a lively group of friends and supportive parents he would no doubt have to figure his way around. But, oh how the heavens must of listened to his prayers when he’d seen you (followed you for more than two hours) stumbling out of a bar drunk and alone.

It was divine timing really, Leon thought to himself. You were stumbling around to a back alley, fiddling with your phone in an attempt to order a ride share to pick you up, no doubt. How stupid were you really, Leon thought. Drunk and alone and ordering a car from a stranger to make sure you got home safe? You really truly knew no better, huh? What if you got hurt, kidnapped, assaulted?

Leon made it his mission all those weeks ago to protect you, help you at any cost, so when he sneaks up behind you placing the rag over your mouth until your body goes limp he’s simply doing it out of protection, out of love.

When he drags your limp body into his car, making sure no one saw, all he can think is how much better off you were in his arms. He was a cop after all, right?

Leon was a good man, he truly honestly believed that.

“You’re home now,” He’d explained when you came to in Leon’s apartment. You were scared, huddled in the corner of your pretty pink room ( which Leon had spent a lot of time on in decorating), and Leon really was trying his best to make you comfortable.

He sauntered over to you, and you couldn’t help but notice how he looked like he was a predator stalking his prey, leaning down and reaching his hand out to you in a kind gesture you hadn’t expected, “Let’s talk on the bed, why don’t we baby?” He spoke softly, kindly.

You were still frightened as hell, way too frightened to resist him, so with shaky fingers and sweaty palms you grasped his much bigger one and let him help you up. Leon moved you two to the bed, it was soft and had a pink floral bedspread, and sat closer to you than you wanted.

You had some strength, and you were confused and nervous, “Why?” stumbled out of your lips, hoarse and soft.

Leon nodded his head, “I knew you’d ask that, that’s okay—“ He leans up, brushes some hair off your forehead causing you to flinch, “— I wouldn’t expect you to understand at first, any how.” He spoke like he knew you, how long had he been watching you? Days? Months?

“I saved you.” He spoke matter of factly, it sent a chill down your spine. Saved you? From what?

“I-I don’t need saving,” You found courage to speak, still soft, still so hoarse, “I think you have the wrong p-person I-“

Leon’s jaw clinched as you cut yourself off. Of course you did, Leon’s not fucking stupid. Are you really so goddamn dumb to not realize how scary the world is? What it can do to sweet little things like you? But no, of course you didn’t know that, how could he expect you to? He pushed the rising anger down, Leon was a good man and really only got angry sometimes and he was going to control it if it meant making you like him. Getting you to love him.

“Pretty thing,” He spoke, moving closer to you so your knees knocked together, “I don’t expect you to understand.”

Despite everything, you just weren’t seeming to adjust to your new surroundings. Leon had saved you a little over a week ago, and despite trying to make you as comfortable as possible you still just seemed to want to leave.

After your first conversation Leon tried and tried to interact with you, form a relationship with you. He brought you three meals a day, each time watching you struggle to find a new way to escape. First it was the sealed window, the lock picking of the dead bolted doors, even trying to attack him like Leon can’t over power you in seconds. He couldn’t figure out why he couldn’t get you comfortable here.

Why couldn’t you see everything he was doing was for you? You can’t escape, not when the world is just going to eventually eat you up and leave you as broken as him. He was doing the right thing, keeping you here, why couldn’t you see that?

After another week of escape attempts and dry conversations over take out he had gotten you, you finally let up a bit. More open, more willing, the conversation was still dry but at least you weren’t trying to escape anymore.

“Sweet girl,” He spoke kindly,like he always did, as he entered with a tray of food. “I brought your food.” He entered the room, locking the various locks behind him as he sat on your bed. Leon had been nothing but kind in the past two weeks you’ve been here. It made you confused how someone who could so viciously take you was so kind hearted. You walked over to the bed, inspecting the food.

“You didn’t put anything in it, did you?” You asked, just like you always asked.

“Would that make you easier to manage, pretty thing?” He joked. It wasn’t funny, instead it made you feel sick how he could even joke about a topic like that. “No,” He reassured after seeing your fast twist up, “I didn’t put anything in it.” He leaned down, taking a bite of the food to show you it wasn’t contaminated, and only then did you feel safe enough to bring the fork to your lips.

Leon watched you eat for a few moments before speaking, “I was working today—“ He loved these stories, you thought, the ones that make the world seem bad. “— And we got a call. A guy shot his girlfriend. Can you believe that?” He moved to place his palm on your head, smiling at you bright and kind, “Thank god you’re here, right? Not with a sick bastard that could hurt you.”

You could almost laugh, did he not see who he was? A sick bastard in his own right, twisted and fucked up, just kind about it. You simply nodded, it was easier to give in, easier to please him. “Right.” You spoke softly.

It was another two weeks and you, embarrassingly so, had gotten more comfortable here. Sleep came more easy to you and Leon was slowly becoming a more comforting presence in your life.

He brought you food, just like always, telling you about his latest work story as you sipped your water. Unfortunately, the stories were starting to scare you, make your hair stand on end as he tells you about a man who murdered his family.

“Make sure to drink it all,” Leon dotes on you, tapping your glass with a big finger, “Need my pretty girl hydrated, hm?” You nod sweetly, just like you’ve been doing the past couple weeks and drink it all in three big gulps.

And okay, Leon was a good man!!! But he wasn’t always honest. He hadn’t been feeding you drugs, but that didn’t mean you weren’t taking them. He’d put them in your drink, mix them up until they were dissolved and make sure you drink it all. It wasn’t anything bad, what he gave you just made you a little sleepy and maybe a little more pliable to what he wanted from you. It didn’t hurt and he wouldn’t keep you out his stuff forever, just until you were ready to be weened off. When you were ready to love him back sober.

When your meal was done and he could tell you were feeling hazy, he leaned down like he always did and placed a soft kiss to your forehead mumbling what a good job you did for him. And you couldn’t help but admit how it made you feel, giddy and comforted.

Leon really wasn’t an awful guy, you caught yourself thinking as he exited the room. He fed you sufficiently, gave you the best clothes and softest towels to shower with, and he really wasn’t that terrible of company. Another 10 or so minutes passed and you were exhausted, falling into a slumber full of Leon.

You’d been here two months now, Leon kept you more drugged up than sober these days, but it made you so kind and needy. That’s right he said needy. A couple weeks ago your demeanor began to change, excitement filling you when he’d enter the room, telling him how much you’d missed him while away. He could get used to this.

He’d come to visit you before bed, you were in a pink pretty night gown with your hair in two messy braids when he’d came into the room.

“Leon,” You smiled softly at him, big doe eyes focused on the man by the door way.

“Hi sweetheart,” He spoke, locking the door and walking over to your bed to sit next to you, “Have a fun day, hm?” He pet your hair, giddy in the way that you lean into it.

“Had a good day, watched movies.” Ah yeah, Leon had gotten you a small box tv and some dvds from a resale shop, he was glad you were enjoying those.

“Good, good girl,” He spoke, not missing the way you purred hazily at the nickname, “Little girls deserve to have fun, yeah?”

You nodded at him happily, leaning more into his touch. You’d been such a good girl these past couple weeks, he pressed a kiss to your cheek and he felt how warm you got underneath his touch.

You were so affectionate tonight, would he test the waters more? See what else he could get away with?

“Baby, could we do something different tonight?”

“Different…how?” You spoke softly, flinching a little out of fear. Ah, he expected that to still be there. The thought of something new in this situation was bound to be scary.

“You’ll enjoy yourself angel,” He promised, pressing another sweet kiss to your cheek. He moved so he was laid on the bed next to you, sitting up with his head against the headboard. “Why don’t you give me a kiss first, hm?”

Leon had gotten you to kiss him a couple days prior, you’d been so nervous and fumbling when he’d held your head with his big hands explaining that he deserved a kiss for everything he’d done for you. He was too mean to be the one to kiss you first, waiting for you to stand on you tippy toes and place your lips against his. After a few minutes he’d grown impatient until you did just that, a small peck and turned into a heated session that had you panting into his mouth.

And now you loved kissing him, all hazy and dumb as you would beg him for goodbye kisses everytime he left you. So asking you for a kiss now was nothing out of the ordinary, and it wasnt out of the ordinary for you to climb into his lap and kiss him sloppily and sweet just like you were doing now.

And Leon *loved* it, the patience, the drugging, the kind sweet words was all worth it to lead to moments like this. With you licking at his bottom lip messily until he opened up to shove his tongue down your throat.

He was so happy it wasn’t some punk ass guy doing this to you, a man you didn’t deserve. It had to be him, he was everything you needed. He tested the waters, moving his hands to grip at your waist, he felt you jump beneath him, flinching at the new action. He pulled away smiling at you kindly,

“I told you something new, baby. You gotta trust me,” He gripped your hips tighter, feeling how you shook under him. It was exhilarating having you like this, inexperienced and scared under his touch.

“L-Leon,” You stuttered out, readjusting in his hold, making him groan out softly.

“Be patient, sweet thing.” He demanded, moving you around his lap, releasing another low groan from him.

You could feel something hard under you, hard and big. You gasp, trying to lift yourself off of him and he pushes you back down. “We’re gunna have s’much fun together, ain’t we sweet thing?” He slurred out until he found a good position for you to be in. Leaning his head against the headboard. “Gunna move your hips yeah? Be real weird at first, ‘kay baby? But I’ll make you feel real good sweet girl.” He spoke, leaning up to kiss the shell of your ear.

You’d gotten to the point where it was hard to refuse him, out of fear? Maybe. Or maybe it was something more. So you just nod eagerly, overwhelmed tears filling up your eyes as you wait for his instruction or his motion.

He begins rocking your hips against what you assume is his cock, you gasp softly, the feeling new and foreign to you.

Leon lets out a deep groan, he was loving this. He couldn’t believe he was here with you like this, rocking against his cock. He grips your hips harder, picking up the pace as your clothes cunt rubs against his cock. “God, aren’t you glad I took you, hm?” He’s rambling as you gasp and whine and cry under his hold, “If you’d done this with anyone else baby, I would’ve had to kill them, yeah? Aren’t you glad I rescued you.”

“Y-yeah,” You whine out, over come with this new feeling. The only things separating your cunt and his hard cock was your think panties and his rough pajama pants that rubbed deliciously against your pussy. You’re crying, overwhelmed by the feeling, lashes wet and tears dripping onto Leon’s cheeks (not that he gave a fuck), you move your hands up, shakily wiping the wet from his face as he moves you all at a fast pace.

“Enjoying yourself little girl? Yeah?”

“Uh-huh,” You hiccup, hazy and high, “T-thank you..” You whisper out.

“Dirty thing,” He groans out, moving you faster against his cock. He could only imagine what it’d be like to finally sink himself inside of you. He knows for a fact how wet you’d be, how he’d have to work you on his fingers before you take his big dick. The thought could make him cum in his pants.

“L-Leon I feel funny I…” You trail off, gripping his shirt in your smaller hands. He was so muscular it was almost breath taking.

“Yeah sweet girl I bet you do,” He laughed softly, trailing one of his hands down to press against your panty clad clit. You yelped softly, letting out multiple soft moans at the new sensation.

Your body was on fire, lit from the inside out as you gave up and indulged yourself in this new feeling. Your cunt was soaked leaving a dark stain on Leon’s pajamas as he roughly rocked you back and forth.

“God, fuck you’re such a good girl,” Leon grunts out, he was close, with the dry humping and the thoughts of fucking your sloppy cunt until you couldn’t think no more, he was ready to fucking explode. after a few more minutes he’s soaking himself, his pajamas a dark stained mess as he cums all over himself and your pretty panties. He makes a noise that’s almost like a growl as he grips your hip in a bruising hold.

You yelp out at the pain as he is circling your clit in a rough fast pace, you felt like you had to pee, the build up inside of you getting stronger and stronger as he mumbles sweet praises and tells you how he saved you over and over again, rubbing your clit in fast circles.

Finally the coil inside of you snaps as you yell out, a sobbing mess as you twitch and convulse and rut yourself against his big hand. Leon could cum again almost looking at you fuck your wet cunt against his hand.

You were overwhelmed but you couldn’t stop, you were shaking and sobbing at this point as you fuck yourself fast and hard against his hand.

“Baby let’s stop, yeah?” He spoke, pressing his hands on your tummy and back and slowing you to a stop, kissing you on your cheek as he stares at your blissed out face.

Leon Kennedy was a good man, Leon was your savior.

#leon kennedy #tw.dark content #ೃ mars writes !#leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #resident evil #leon kennedy smut #re2 #re4 #dead dove do not eat #tw.kidnapping

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tsuutarr · 2 days ago

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As just imagined then everything as a game and the hero as seeing like a freak by all the people and the reader as the only good and nice npc then treat him well and even give him free item even if our store is not very we still give him a apologize about the others (npcs) being rude with him and the hero being so delusinal the fall over us lol

so, because i have absolutely NO self control, I made another story <3

Yandere! RPG Protagonist x Reader

Gallius isn’t entirely sure when he gained sentience. Maybe it was when he’d have insistent feelings of déjà vu. Maybe it was when he would want to go somewhere or do something, but an external force prevented him from doing so. Maybe it was when the people he talked to would say the same things over and over and over again.

Regardless, one day, he realized that he doesn’t actually exist – at least, not in a way that matters. He’s just a piece of code, a bunch of pixels moving across the screen, trapped in a video game.

The worst part is that everyone around him – and he means everyone – lacks sentience. It’s gotten to the point that he’s memorized everything. Every dialogue, every story path – everything.

It’s a fruitless life, really, especially since he’s forced to obey his code. He’s forced to go along with whatever the person controlling him wants. He’s forced to be the happy-go-lucky protagonist. He can’t be anything but that.

Gods, he’s going to go insane.

And he’s tried to talk to people, really.

“Hey, so, I think we’re in a game.”

“Beer is fifty percent off, young man.”

Gallius never thought the tavern’s owner could look so lifeless. “So, you know, I guess you really don’t have sentience.”

“Man, can you believe the monster outbreak?”

“Don’t you wish there was a way you could… I don’t know, break free? Talk beyond your code?”

“Beer is fifty percent off, young man.”

Gallius holds back a sigh. The tavern owner says three things exactly. “Beer is fifty percent off, young man”, “Man, can you believe the monster outbreak?”, and “I don’t know if I prefer a full tavern or an empty one!” are the exact phrases the tavern owner recycles. It isn’t just the tavern owner, either. It’s everyone else in town. The blacksmith, the carpenter, the seamstress – all of them.

It kind of drives him insane. Maybe that’s why he tries to find solace in anything he can, like you.

“Gods, I hate being the only one who sees that we’re a pile of code,” he tells you. You’re a cute shopkeep – whoever designed you must be a genius – that he likes to see from time to time. If anything, you’re easy on the eyes, at least.

“Yes, it does appear that you’re having quite the rough time,” you say. He knows you’re just saying one of your coded phrases, he does, but he can’t help but latch on to that piece of support you give.

“Yeah, you get it.” He laughs dryly. “But what can I do? I have to keep going. It’s not like I have a choice.”

“You’re doing well. I’m proud of you.”

Gods, he can’t hide his grin. Yes, you’re just saying one of your phrases, but the comfort your words bring – it’s unreal. It’ll probably be even more unreal if he could actually talk to you. If you both had sentience, if you both could go against your code. The thought makes him fall silent.

“...Hey, I’m gonna leave for a bit. Maybe a long time,” he says finally, determined to help you break away from your code. He doesn’t really care too much about the other NPCs, but you? Oh, he wants you. He wants to talk to you, to be with you in a way that matters.

“Have a safe journey,” you say, automated. You hand him a potion, a freebie from your shop, with a smile. “On the house.”

Gallius smiles, taking the potion from you. Yeah, he’ll find a way to give you sentience like him. That way, you guys can truly be together forever.

#yandere oc #male yandere #tsuuper ocs #yandere x reader #yandere x you #tw yandere #male yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc #Gallius Chrom Tsuu OC #yes i based him off of various JRPG protags #the blue hair is 100% an homage to Chrom from Fire Emblem LOL

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itneverendshere · 10 hours ago

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INVISIBLE STRING - r.c series (eight)

pairing: pogue!rafe x sweetheart!kook reader. chapter warnings: mentions of domestic violence; unhealthy relationships;

It takes another week for your bruises to disappear entirely and for you to get comfortable enough to join Rafe downstairs while he’s working away with Jerry.

He didn’t mind though, he liked watching you heal, loved seeing you devour whatever he cooked for you. It was almost like he was healing himself too.

Rafe glances up from under the hood of the Chevy, the clang of metal on metal breaking the heat of the afternoon.

He isn’t sure what draws his attention, but there you are, sitting on the porch steps with sunlight catching in your hair, watching him and Jerry work like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

It devastates him—how much happier you look. A week ago, you'd barely let him leave your side without that haunted look creeping back into your eyes.

You sit there comfortably, legs stretched out, looking eerily like the girl he remembered from so long ago. Almost.

He wipes his hands on the rag tucked into his pocket, taking a moment to breathe you in. Seeing you there, in his space, still feels unreal.

Somehow, the universe had given him a second chance when he’d never thought he’d get one, hee wants to keep you that way, safe, comfortable, smiling.

“Rafe,” Jerry’s voice pulls him back to work, and he tears his gaze from you reluctantly, not before he catches the way your lips quirk just a little more when you realize he’s been watching.

He ducks his head back under the hood, focusing on the busted engine. At least, that’s what he tells himself, but the truth is, he’s already planning what to make you for dinner. Maybe spaghetti?

You’d eaten three helpings of it the other night like you couldn’t get enough. He’ll make extra.

He grins to himself, a small, private thing, as he tightens the bolt on the alternator. He isn’t usually one for kitchen work but he’d been experimenting ever since you got here, he'd been cooking more than ever.

Figured out how to make pancakes the way you liked them, even if it meant burning the first couple batches, learned the trick to getting mashed potatoes just right, and spaghetti? He can make that blindfolded by now, if it means seeing you sitting, all full and satisfied, looking at him like he’s doing something right for once.

He peeks your way again, can’t help it.

God, he could write poetry about you if he had the words, if he was smart enough for that shit. Something about how your skin soaks up the sun like it’s meant just for you, or how you make the whole world quiet just by sitting there, looking at him.

You stretch, raising your arms over your head and his chest hurts so good. You don’t know what you’re doing to him, do you? You have no idea how much he wants to drop this wrench, cross the yard, and pull you into his arms, just to feel you against him, like the good old days.

“Rafe,” Jerry calls again, this time a little more assertive.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here,” He mutters, running a hand through his hair, smearing grease. The old man shoots him a look but says nothing.

He blames you, how is a guy supposed to focus with you sitting there like that? Looking all pretty and sweet, like you belong nowhere else but on his porch, waiting on him to finish up.

He wonders if you’d blush if he told you.

Maybe later, at dinner, he’ll get you talking about something—something that makes your eyes light up and your hands move like they always do when you got excited. Not the whole thing, of course, not the part about how he wants to keep you here forever, how he spent the last week falling asleep next to you, scared out of his mind to wake up and you’d be gone.

He can’t say that, not yet.

He still doesn’t feel deserving, the years haven’t dimmed you a bit—if anything, you’re brighter, and stronger, especially after what had happened, after you showed up on his doorstep with bruises and trembling hands, you’re still here, looking at him like he’s someone worth trusting.

He can’t stop thinking about what your parents said, all those years ago. How they’d made him feel like the scum on their shoes, but he isn’t that same kid anymore, is he? He built a life here, fixed cars, learned to cook, stayed out of trouble. You came back to him.

The sound of pawsteps across gravel draws his attention before he even realizes he’s been listening for it. A familiar shadow pads around the corner of the garage—a big mutt with a patchy brown coat, floppy ears, and a wagging tail that never quits.

Rafe chuckles under his breath. “Look who finally decided to wake up,” he drawls, wiping his hands on his jeans as the dog, Ace, makes his way toward you, bypassing him completely.

Traitor.

You sit up straighter on the steps, blinking at the unexpected visitor, “Who’s this?”

“That’s Ace, the one I told you about,” He explains, leaning against the Chevy, arms crossed. “Sleeps in the garage most nights. Jerry feeds him scraps when he thinks I ain’t lookin’.”

“Bull,” Jerry mutters from under the hood, but Rafe just grins.

Ace stops a few feet away from you, his tail still wagging but slower now, careful, he sniffles the air, head tilting as if he’s sizing you up.

You extend a hand tentatively, and Rafe’s heart damn near fucking stops when Ace leans forward, his big nose brushing your fingers like he’s been waiting all his life to meet you.

“Oh,” you breath, your lips curving into a blinding smile as you tenderly scratch behind his ears. Ace practically melts, pressing his head into your palm like you’re the best thing that had ever happened to him and Rafe feels like someone punched him, at least a hundred times, square in the chest.

Even the fucking dog is in love with you.

“He’s sweet,” you coo as you stroke Ace’s scruffy coat. “Aren’t you, boy?”

The dog lets out a contented huff, flopping onto the ground at your feet like he’s ready to stay there forever, Rafe can’t blame him.

“He doesn’t warm up to folks like that,” He finds himself admitting, “Usually takes him a while to trust people. Guess he’s got good taste.”

You look up at him, and there it is—that little spark in your eyes that makes his knees weak. “He must take after his owner, then.”

He lets out a noise, between a laugh and a swallow, scratching the back of his neck, looking down at the ground because he knows if he looks at you too long, he’ll probably do something stupid, maybe kiss you right there in front of Jerry and the whole damn yard.

“Nah,” he concedes finally, “Dog’s got way more sense than me.”

You laugh, that sound was always better than any song he ever heard, even if you haven’t laughed like that in a long time.

“You’ve got your moments.” You tease, still scratching the mutt behind his ears.

“Moments, huh?” He smirks, slow and lazy, the way that always makes you blush.

Your cheeks are still flushed, just like he hoped they would, and you shake your head, but he doesn’t miss the way your grin only grows.

God, you’re so beautiful it hurts. He wants to bottle this moment up and keep it forever—the sun on your skin, Ace curled up at your feet, and that look in your eyes.

Jerry clears his throat loudly, and Rafe drags his attention away, turning back to the engine with a muttered, “Don’t you got somethin’ better to do, old man?”

Jerry snorts. “Not when you’re makin’ moon eyes at her like that, might as well sell tickets.”

He shoots him a glare, his ears turning pink, and you cackle again, a little louder this time. It’s worth the ribbing, worth all of it, just to hear that sound. Rafe sighs, long and dramatic. "Don’t you have a crossword or somethin' to keep your mouth busy?"

The old man sniggers, his laugh scratchy and full of life as you look between the two of them, enjoying the show.

“So,” you pipe up, resting your chin on your hand, comfortable enough around Jerry to finally ask, “How did you two meet? Officially, I mean.”

“Cameron didn’t tell you?”

He groans, already regretting everything. “Oh, come on—don’t—”

“Shut up, kid,” Jerry clicks his tongue, waving him off, turning turned to you, his eyes already sparkling with mischief in the late afternoon sun. “It was, what, five years ago? Somethin’ like that. I was in the middle of the hardware store, cussin’ out a kid who bagged up the wrong screws for me.”

Rafe ducks his head, mumbling, “It wasn’t that bad.”

Jerry ignores him, his hands moving as he speaks. “And here comes this scrappy little punk, all long limbs and attitude. He’s hanging around the counter, lookin’ like he’s ready to swipe somethin’. I figured, well, either he’s desperate or he’s an idiot, so I hollered at him.”

You raise an eyebrow, glancing at Rafe. “Scrappy little punk? I remember that.”

He sends a faux glare your way, “Don’t gloat him on.”

“Could’ve called the cops on him,” Jerry goes on, enjoying himself. “But I didn’t. Somethin’ about him looked...he just needed a break. I handed him a sandwich instead. Figured, worst-case scenario, he’d run off and I’d be down a couple bucks.

“But he didn’t.”

Jerry beams, “He sat right there on the curb and ate the whole damn thing like he hadn’t had a meal in days. Then, after he was done, he asked me if I had any work for him.”

You try to keep your expression even, but your throat tightens a little as you take a peek at Rafe’s reaction. He isn’t looking at you, his hands are busy wiping grease from a bolt that needs no more attention.

Your mind paints a picture you don’t want to see: him, still just a teenager, sitting alone on a curb in a strange town, starving, with no one to turn to. You remember the boy you’d known back then—the one who laughed loudly, talked too big, and held your hand like you were the only thing he had in the world.

The thought of him losing all of that, of losing you and ending up so desperate, breaks something inside you.

Jerry isn’t oblivious; he sees the flinch when he mentions Rafe’s first meal here. He catches how your shoulders tense, how Rafe avoids looking at you, the old man has a knack for reading people, so, still with a knowing smile, he pivots.

“Speakin’ of this kid’s early days,” Jerry claps his hands, “Y’know, I had half a mind to send him back to whatever dock he washed up from.”

His free hand dragged down his face. “C’mon, Jerry—”

“No, no, she’s gotta hear this,” Jerry insists, grinning again now. “You ever heard the phrase, ‘bull in a china shop’? That was this one.” He jerks his thumb toward him. “I handed him a wrench, told him to take off the oil pan on an old Ford. Figured, simple job, even he couldn’t screw it up.”

You tilt your head, curious despite yourself. “And?”

“The next thing I know, I hear this god-awful bang—like a car had fallen off the lift. I run over, and there’s Rafe, sittin’ on the ground, oil pan in one hand, half the damn exhaust in the other.”

You clap a hand over your mouth to stifle a giggle, your eyes widening. “No!”

“I was new!” he defends, albeit childishly, his neck turning a faint shade of pink. “I didn’t know cars back then, alrigh’? Boats are different.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jerry chaffs, “Different enough that I had to spend half my day puttin’ that exhaust back together.”

Rafe rolled his eyes, but there’s a sheepish tilt on his lips. “You’re lucky I didn’t quit after that.”

“You?” Jerry cackles, slapping his knee. “You were lucky I didn’t fire you!”

“Alright, that’s enough outta you,” Rafe grumbles, though his tone is more affectionate than annoyed. “She doesn’t need to hear every stupid thing I did.”

Jerry winks at you, “Stick around long enough, and I’ve got plenty more stories where that came from.”

Rafe sighs dramatically, shaking his head, he turns back to the car, he doesn’t mind being the butt of the joke if it makes you laugh.

You’re still petting Ace, murmuring something that he can’t hear, but it doesn’t matter. The way your lips move, the gentle tilt of your head—it’s enough to send his heart hammering.

He doesn’t know what he did to get you back in his life, but he’s sure as hell not going to mess it up. Not this time.

Ace moves at your feet, rolling onto his back, his tail thumping against the ground and you laugh again, that heart-wrenching melodic sound.

He doesn’t even care that Jerry caught him “makin’ moon eyes” earlier—because this is what love looks like, he’ll gladly wear the fool.

“Everything okay over there?” you call, a teasing tilt in your voice.

He clears his throat, coming up with something to say, “Yeah, just—uh, makin’ sure Jerry doesn’t mess up the alternator.”

Jerry barks a laugh from behind the car. “Kid, I’ve been doin’ this since before you could walk. Go ahead, tell her about the time you tried to put windshield wiper fluid in the oil tank.”

“Jesus Christ,” Rafe mutters as your snort spills out, unrestrained and perfect. He wants to record that sound, keep it for the nights when his demons get too loud.

Jerry pops back up, smirking as he wipes his hands on a rag. “She oughta know what she’s dealin’ with.”

He shakes his head, the faintest grin on his lips. “She knows enough. Don’t you, darlin’?”

The nickname slips out without him meaning to, but it feels right.

“Yeah, I do.”

Jerry slaps him on the back, pulling him out of his head. “Alright, kid. Let’s fire her up, see if she’ll run.”

He nods, tossing the wrench onto the workbench. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s do it.”

He steps around to the driver’s side, sliding into the worn seat, the key turns in the ignition, and the old Chevy grumbles to life, sputtering a little before settling into a steady rumble.

Jerry whoops, giving the hood an affectionate pat.

You’re clapping, beaming brighter than the sun dipping low on the horizon, the pride in your eyes, you’re looking at him like he just moved mountains instead of fixing an old truck—it’s overwhelming.

He kills the engine, stepping out of the car, wiping his hands on his jeans as he crosses the yard, Jerry mutters something about grabbing a beer and heads inside, leaving the two of you alone with the fading light and the lazy wag of Ace’s tail.

Rafe stops, suddenly nervous, scratching the back of his neck, his attention flickering between you and the ground.

“I like watching you work. You look happy.”

Happy, such a simple word, but hearing it from you feels monumental, you’re giving him something he didn’t even know he was missing.

“Yeah, guess I’m not used to having an audience,” he murmurs, his lips twitching into a small, sheepish grin.

You tilt your head, studying him and he feels completely exposed, knowing you remembre all the cracks, every scar, every damn thing about him, but instead of turning away, you lean forward slightly, resting your chin on your hand.

“You’re good at it, y’know.”

“At what?”

“Everything.”

He looks away, swallowing hard, “Already promised I’d make you that pasta again, don’t need to butter me up, princess.”

You roll your eyes, as you wave him off. “Don’t let it go to your head, country boy.”

He chuckles, the sound wrapping around you. “Too late for that.”

Ace stirs at your feet, letting out a happy huff as your hand absentmindedly scratches his belly. Rafe watches the way you’re with the dog, so effortless and full of love, and his heart swells.

“Y’know,” he says, his voice more serious, “it’s nice, havin’ you here. Feels... right.”

You brush a strand of hair out of your face, glancing down at Ace before looking back up at him. “It feels right to me too,” you admit.

Rafe’s breath catches, his hand twitching at his side like he wants to touch but doesn’t know how. Instead, he clears his throat, tilting his head toward the garage.

“Guess I should, uh, finish cleanin’ up.”

You nod, smiling a little. “Don’t let me stop you, grease monkey.”

He gives you a tongue-in-cheek smirk, the side of his cheek puffing out slightly, shaking his head as he stands, but not before he leans down, close enough that you can feel the heat of his body, and whispers, “Keep callin’ me that, and I might start likin’ it.”

He knows exactly what he's doing when your lips part in a gasp as he leans in, how your eyes widen before you try act unaffected—it’s like you’re both teens again. He didn’t mean to flirt, not at first, but the way you look at him, it’s impossible not to.

He pulls back, letting his smirk settle into place, giving you that lazy, self-assured grin you always pretended to hate when you were younger.

By the time you think of a comeback, he’s already halfway to the workbench, his smug grin unmistakable even from a distance.

Jerry returns with a beer in hand, catching the tail end of your flustered expression. “What’d he say this time?”

“Nothing,” you reply quickly as you scratch Ace behind the ears again.

“Uh-huh,” Jerry says knowingly, settling into his chair and shaking his head with a chuckle.

Dinner comes slow but is worth the wait.

The sun's long since tucked itself away, and by now, the house smells like garlic and tomatoes, the scent that makes you feel like you’re right where you belong.

Rafe stands in the kitchen, his back to you as he plates up the spaghetti he promised. He’s in a worn t-shirt and jeans, the grease scrubbed from his hands but still faintly streaked along his forearm.

He’d gone all out—spaghetti with his homemade sauce, garlic bread, and even a side salad, though he figured that would mostly be for show.

“Hope you’re hungry,” he calls, leaning on the doorframe as you appear from the hallway, fresh-faced and relaxed after cleaning up from earlier. You smile at him, and his heart stutters like it always does when you stare at him like that, turning with two plates balanced in his hands, “One gourmet pasta dish, comin’ up.”

You laugh, sitting cross-legged at the table. “Big words for a guy who learned how to boil water when he was seventeen.”

“Now, that’s just mean.” He sets the plates down with mock offense, but there’s a light in his eyes, the kind that only shows up when you’re here.

The first bite is heaven—simple, hearty, comforting.

You can’t help the little sigh that escapes as you twirl more noodles around your fork. He watches from across the table, leaning back in his chair, one hand loosely gripping his beer. He’s not subtle about it either, letting his eyes wander over you like he’s cataloging every detail.

“This is amazing,” you say after swallowing. “Seriously. You’ve been holding out on me.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he takes a bite of his own. “Nah, just figured if I burned a few meals first, you’d lower your expectations. Keep the bar manageable.”

“If this is you being ‘manageable,’ I’m almost scared to see what happens when you’re trying.”

“Careful, princess,” he drawls, leaning back in his chair. “Might start thinkin’ you’re tryna keep me in the kitchen.”

“Well, you do look good in an apron,” you bite back a shit-eating grin as his face warms ever so slightly.

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolls his eyes, stabbing a piece of garlic bread and pointing it at you playfully. “Keep it up, see what happens.”

He takes a sip of his drink, watching the way your shoulders relax, and how you reach for another piece of bread without hesitation. It’s everything he wanted when he planned this—just to see you like this, comfortable, at home.

“You’ve gotten good at this,” you say after a moment, gesturing toward the food. “It’s kind of... surprising.”

Rafe shrugs, his lips twitching into a crooked smirk. “Figured it was time I learned somethin’ useful. Can’t live off fast food forever, y’know?”

You tilt your head, studying him. “You’ve changed.”

He doesn’t look at you right away, focusing instead on twirling his fork through his pasta. “Time does that, I guess. Sometimes it’s good, sometimes it ain’t.”

“I think it’s good,” you say, and the sincerity in your voice makes him glance up. Your eyes meet, and there’s something there—something that makes his chest feel all empty and full at once.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, “I like this version of you. Feels like you’re where you’re supposed to be.”

You talk about the past like as if it’s something distant, like it doesn’t still linger in the cracks of who you’ve become. He hates it—hates the way your voice wavers. Hates that, for five years, you’d been fighting to survive while he wasn’t there to stop it.

He should be grateful for the words, for the way you look at him like he’s the version of himself you can believe in. But all he can think about is how wrong you are. How he was supposed to be there—not here. If he says it out loud, the mood will drop, and the hope in your voice will disappear. He can’t take that from you—not when you’ve fought so hard to get here.

So instead, he swallows the words.

You’re still smiling and he lets himself pretend that this is how it’s always been—that you’ve never known anything but moments like this, safe and warm. The corner of his mouth twitches upward as he watches you, but that tightness in his chest refuses to ease.

“You’ve got something...” He gestures vaguely, and when you blink at him in confusion, he reaches for his napkin. “On your lip.”

You laugh, startled, and quickly swipe at your mouth with the back of your hand. “Did I get it?”

“Nah,” he says, smirking as he leans forward slightly. “Other side.”

You try again, this time swiping with your thumb, but it’s no use.

He chuckles low, shaking his head, his heart squeezing as he watches your eyes crinkle at the edges. He’d give anything to go back and rewrite the past, so you’d never know the pain you went through.

“C’mere,” he says softly, his voice warm like the honey he used to sneak into your tea.

Before you can whine in protest, he’s reaching across the table, thumb brushing gently against the corner of your lips. His touch stays a second longer than it should, his eyes locked on yours and he doesn’t pull back.

Instead, his hand moves to cup your jaw, his thumb tracing the edge of your cheekbone.

You don’t pull away, and that quiets the voice in his head screaming at him to back off, to give you space. The last thing he wants is to upset you. Your breathing hitches slightly, your attention flickering to his lips, and that’s all it takes to shake whatever restraint he has left.

“I shouldn’t,” he whispers, his voice hoarse, feeling a desperate need for your permission. “I’ll stop.”

You shake your head, just barely, the motion subtle but enough, “You don’t have to.”

Five years. Five years of silence, of distance, of trying to live in a world that didn’t feel like home without the other. He leans in slowly, giving you every chance to turn away. But you don’t—you couldn’t if you tried, not with the warmth of his palm against your skin, the way his breath ghosts over your lips.

And then, finally, his mouth meets yours.

The kiss is not as gentle as he expected.

It’s desperate like the years apart have snapped every ounce of longing into something unbearable. His lips move against yours with a reckless abandon, the kind that whispers I’m sorry I missed you and I never stopped loving you all at once. It’s messy and clumsy in the best way—you’re both trying to relearn the map of each other, chasing something you thought you’d lost forever.

The kiss deepens, the world falling away until all you can feel is him, and you wonder how you ever survived without this.

But as suddenly as it began, he pulls back.

Rafe’s breathing is uneven, his forehead resting against yours, his thumb still brushing over your cheek as if to soothe, his eyes searching yours.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “for everything. For not being there. For—”

You cut him off with another kiss, softer this time but no less meaningful. It’s your way of telling him there’s nothing to forgive, that every broken piece led you back here, to this moment.

“You’re awful quiet,” he says, “That’s never a good sign.”

You glance back at the remnants of dinner. “Just thinking,” you reply, deliberately neutral, but it doesn’t fool him.

“About what?”

You hesitate, “About the first time we met.”

That catches him off guard. His eyebrows knit together, and he straightens slightly, “What about it?”

You huff out a chuckle, “I was just remembering how much of an ass you were. You were so mean.”

“You make it sound like I wasn’t justified.”

“You were so angry that day. You had this scowl—like you wanted to scare me off.”

“I did,” he admits, his hand dropping to the table, fingers brushing yours, “Didn’t work, though. You figured me out pretty quick.”

You're studying him like you’re reading the pages of an old, familiar book. Your fingers curl around his, “It’s easy when you find your soulmate.”

Rafe’s breath catches, his eyes searching yours like he’s looking for a sign that this is another one of your teasing remarks. But when he sees the sincerity in your face, the way your lips curve into a gentle, knowing smile, he feels a warmth spreading through his body.

“Yeah?”

You nod slowly, your fingers gently brushing his. “Yeah, don’t think I ever really had to figure you out. I just had to see you.”

He’s quiet, a little stunned, he knows you’re not just talking about the past, about that first meeting when he was all bitterness. You’re talking about the now, about who he’s trying to be, who he’s becoming. He presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes for a second, just soaking in the feel of you—real and here and his.

He swallows hard, unsure how to express himself.

“You’re… you’re the love of my life,” he admits. It’s not a grand confession, there’s no dramatic buildup, no orchestrated speech, it’s just a simple truth, spilling from his heart like it’s always belonged there. His heart races under the look you’re giving him, “I know I screwed up. I know I’ve been a fuckin’ mess, but I never stopped loving you, don’t think I ever could.”

Your lips tremble eyes shining with something tender, as you reach out, your hand brushing against his clothed chest, feeling the rhythm of his heart beneath your palm.

“I’ve always known,” you say, your voice carrying every ounce of emotion you’ve kept buried. “I’ve always known, Rafe, even when we were apart. You’ve always been it for me.”

The words, the honesty in them, he’s suddenly overcome with a flood of emotions so intense, it’s almost overwhelming. He leans in, his lips pecking yours gently, over and over again, until you’re grinning from ear to ear again.

“You’re it for me, too,” he murmurs against your skin, “Always.”

Rafe doesn’t let you move far after dinner, you’re not even halfway to the sink with the plates before he takes them out of your hands, his skin brushing yours, lingering just long enough to make you shiver all over again.

“Don’t,” he scolds.

“You cooked,” you protest.

“I always cook,” he retorts lightheartedly as he sets the plates on the counter. “Doesn’t mean I’m letting you clean up. Sit.”

You fold your arms, leaning back against the counter instead, the stubborn tilt of your chin making him laugh. It’s not mocking—but he still shakes his head, muttering something about “always gotta have the last word”, you still let your elbow bump his every so often.

The simple domesticity of it catches you off guard, you never had it before, so it’s not something you would’ve associated with him back then—but here he is, sleeves pushed up, completely at ease. Five minutes later, he pushes off the counter and takes a step closer,

“C’mere,” he’s guiding you toward the couch with a hand at the small of your back.

Ace follows, tail wagging lazily as he flops onto the rug near Rafe’s feet. He usually doesn’t let him come up here, but you’d begged to prettily earlier, and he couldn’t say no to that face. You settle in first, tucking your legs beneath you, and he sits beside you, his arm draping over the back of the couch.

The night winds down slowly, and by the time you’re both settled, Ace is already sprawled across Rafe’s legs, you’re warm with spaghetti, affection, and a sense of belonging. He moves, his arm slipping around your shoulders as he tugs you closer, his cheek resting against your temple.

“This feels right, doesn’t it?”

You nod, leaning into him, “Yeah, it does.”

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kurokawaia · 2 days ago

Text

RIGHT HERE 彡 Izana Kurokawa

WC; 1.3k+ | !MDNI! 18+ | TW/CW :: tenjiku! izana, x fem! reader, afab, reader is wearing a skirt, club setting, alcohol, suggestive, izana is quite handsy, pet names 'mahal' 'princess' 'baby', voyeurism?? hickies, readers first time in receiving a hickey, reader is timid and shy, possessiveness mention + more

⋆·˚ ༘ *𝒮𝒴𝒩𝒪𝒫𝒮𝐼𝒮 :: it's your first time relationship with Izana, you know that he's relatively experienced, and he knows that you are not. Despite Izana being quite the dominant person, he's taking it slow with you. However, you should've kept your mouth shut and waited until the two of you were home.

m.list | tokyo revengers m.list

You've been here for a couple hours and Izana hasn't pressured you to do a single thing in the club. He knows that it's a dangerous place to be in when you're a woman, and being as sweet and pretty as you, he is not going to leave your side.

Izana doesn't mind staying seated with you on the red velvet longue because your all tucked up against him, his arm over your shoulder while he holds a glass of whiskey on the other. It's not hot or stuffy in here, in fact, it's quite chilly due to the air-con blasting on full, so Izana as donned his leather jacket around your shoulders.

The other members of Tenjiku where everywhere, on the dance floor, directly at the bar or flirting with the waitresses. The only people who weren't, were you and Izana who were watching from the VIP floor upstairs, along with Kakucho who was sitting on the couch horizontal from us to the side.

Kakucho wasn't really paying attention, he was quite engrossed on his phone. You wondered how he even got into the club, due to how he was fourteen going on fifteen, but Izana is quite influential and he follows Izana around everywhere.

However, you weren't paying attention to anything apart from Izana and the sensual music being blasted through the speakers. Your right leg was placed over Izana's left while his arm tightens around your shoulder and you sigh in contentment.

You know that Izana is possessive of you and his actions show that, he makes sure everybody knows who you belong to, so you'll always be safe. Although, there's been a thought running through your head the entire night, you'll nibble on your glosses bottom lip while fiddling with the hem of your short skirt.

Of course, Izana noticed the moment you started doing it, but he didn't want to pry you too much, simply just engaging in normal conversation with you. But, now? he really wants to know, you've been like this for hours and it's really riling him up.

He's motived how your cheeks flushed whenever you looked up directly up at him while speaking and he knows you have something you want to say, something dirty.

"What's with you, mahal? You've been acting strange all night," Izana hums after drinking the last of the whiskey in the crystal glass before he places it down on the table, his head moving to face yours.

You shake your head quickly, placing a hand on his exposed chest as your curl over into him and you instantly regret doing that because his toned upper body looks really good. Especially in a button down black shirt which was buttoned down quite a bit.

"It’s nothing! I’m fine," you protest with a gentle smile.

Izana lets a smirk cross his lips as his hand squeezes your waist every now and then, his purple iris' glint in satisfaction when he sees you beginning to unravel. "You're a terrible liar, mahal. Spill it."

You take a deep breath while gazing down, looking away from him. "It’s just... there’s something I want to ask, but it’s kind of... embarrassing."

"Oh? Embarrassing?" he teases, lips grazing just below your ear and your heart begins to pound in your chest. "You've really got me curious now."

"It’s not a big deal or anything! I just thought... maybe you could—" you stop mid-sentence, you bury your face into the side of his chest. "Never mind, it’s stupid."

Izana leans back into the soft velvet, and he cups your chin, amusement is evident on his face, specifically his lips, he is enjoying this. "Don't do that, baby. Tell me. Whatever it is, I promise I won't laugh."

But the way he said he wouldn't laugh made you believe otherwise. "I was wondering if... if you could... give me a hickey."

Izana blinks in shock for a few moments, you've never been this forward with him, it's always Izana guessing what you want and 10 times out of 10 he is correct. However, this was a shock to him.

"A hickey, huh?" he replies, his voice low as he whispers sensually in your ear. "So... that's what's been going through that pretty head of yours."

"I just thought it might be... I mean, I trust you, and... I’ve never had one before," you stumble over your words, trying to keep your composure but the way you are pressed so tightly against him and how hot is breath is to your skin... "But if you think it’s dumb, I—"

Izana cuts you off with a soft chuckle, his hand tilting your chin up so you can meet his gaze. "You think I’d let you ask me something like that and call it dumb?" his voice still in that teasing tone. "If you want one, mahal, I’ll make sure you never forget it."

"R-Right here?" you ask in disbelief. "Maybe we should wait until we get-"

You cut yourself off when you see the look in Izana's eyes, primal and need. It makes sense, this will be the most he has ever done with you and he's going feral, he's going to mark you up, everyone will know who you belong to and that you're taken.

A shaky breath leaves your mouth while butterflies stir in your tummy and lower abdomen. He's sitting there studying every square inch of your body, purple eyes gazing over your neck, your flushed cheeks.

Izana's fingers lightly trace your jawline, sending shivers throughout your body. This did nothing to quench the arousal you felt pooling in your underwear.

"You're so nervous, mahal," he coos in a low voice, his thumb playing with your bottom lip. "You asked for this, didn't you?"

You nod, your breath hitching as he leans closer, his warm breath fanning against your neck. He chuckles softly, and the sound is smooth.

Izana's lips touch your below your ear trailing to the dip of your neck before slowly trailing back up and you knew he could feel your heart pounding beneath your flesh. And he could, he was resisting the urge to take you right there and then on the couch, but he couldn't, he's promised himself to take it slow, just for you.

"Relax," he hums. "I'll take care of you, mahal."

He presses his lips against the side of your neck, soft at first, leaving a trail of kisses as he searches for the perfect spot. When he finds it—you whimper—just below your ear—he smirks against your skin before pressing harder, his lips tugging gently as his teeth graze the surface.

The sensation makes you gasp, you breath so heavily in his ear, whimpers mingling in, your hands instinctively gripping the fabric of his shirt.

Izana’s grin widens, his voice dropping to a whisper. "That’s it. Just stay still for me, mahal."

He works slowly, almost lazily, his lips and tongue leaving warmth and a faint ache that makes your head spin. He pulls back briefly, his eyes flicking to the mark before he leans in kissing your neck around the red mark gently while squeezing your thigh.

Your cheeks are flushed red and your heart continues to beat fast, not slowing down. Izana cups your jaw, tilting your chin up so you meet his gaze.

"Perfect. Now you have something to show off that your mine" he murmurs before his eyes flutter shut and place a kiss to your lips, pulling away he smirks gently.

You can’t meet his gaze, your face burning, and he chuckles, pulling you closer so you’re tucked against his chest.

"You’re cute when you’re flustered, you know that?" Izana chuckles. A few moments pass before he begins to stroke your hair down and he leans his head down to your ear. "But don’t get shy now, mahal. I’m not done with you yet. I'm thinking about all the things I'm going to say to you, what I'm going to do to you when we get home."

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | tokyo revengers m.list

that last sentence was a chase atlantic reference to their song triggered, if any of you cared to know...

#izana x reader #izana x you #izana smut #izana kurokawa x reader #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader #suggestive #x reader #tokyo rev x reader #tr x reader #tr smut

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lunarsilver · 2 days ago

Text

How can you glow up?

A short lenormand reading.

All arts are from official covers of Choujin X's volumes.

REMEMBER

I’m not a doctor, a psychiatrist, a therapist nor a psychologist. Divination will never replace meetings with them.

It’s a general reading, so not everything will resonate.

If you can’t choose between two piles, probably both of them have some messages for you. You can also not identify with any of them, and that’s okay, too.

Readings can help you make a decision, but they shouldn’t be the main reason for making it.

1 ~ 2 3 ~ 4 PILE 1

Lilies - Ship - Mountain - Man - Heart

With how the first two cards are Spades (Air), the next one is a club (Fire) and the last two are Hearts (Water), it kinda gives a vibe of a logical person experiencing strong emotions and getting more in tune with them in the process. Depending on your gender, the Man represents either you or someone in your life. I see here someone more feminine getting in a relationship with someone more masculine. This relationship, most likely a romantic and definitely a loving one, will be a way for you to glow up. Alternatively, for a minority of you, I see that tapping more into your masculinity would let you glow up.

PILE 2

Bear - Fish - Ring - Anchor - Letter

Instant boss vibes from this pile. And, at the same time, these vibes are pretty calm. To glow up, you can show your strong character and not be afraid of communicating what you think. This will make it clear to everyone what your values, opinions and strengths are, and you’ll see how much more secure you’ll feel in communicating with other people once they know you.

PILE 3

Coffin - Woman - Anchor - Ship - Bouquet

I’m pretty sure the Woman here represents you. This pile is pretty straightforward - time to explore your social possibilities, to lay foundations for your own social circle. Like, literally four out of five cards are Spades, which are related to Air - communication. Do you think about how nice it would be to have many friends, or maybe just meet someone new, but you’re just grieving over not having it instead of acting? Looks so, pile three. You can glow up by getting out of this safe bubble of your solitude and opening up more to people, trying to interact with them.

PILE 4

Heart - Tree - Lilies - Key - Child

You’re so sweet, pile four. Most of you here don’t have too much experience in love or sexual matters is what I’m getting. The cards say that tapping more into your sensuality will open you to something new. You can glow up by connecting more with your values and possibly also femininity (regardless of your gender). Don’t be afraid to grow, love the process!

#divination #pick a picture #pick a card #pick a card reading #cartomancy #general reading #tarot reading #pick a pile #lenormand #glow up

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quantum1mmortality · 2 days ago

Note

oooooo I have so many ideas…

If you have a kid with curly, how does he react as a father? He gives me SUCH STRONG girl dad energy and I can’t tell you why. This man is a GIRL DAD. How is he as a parent? Does he cook? Can he help his kid with math homework? Is he a family man? I’m so curious to see your thoughts on this.

Prob like the 7th request I've gotten for dad/dilf Curly 😭😭 also to my very special anon who has been in my asks for a very special Jimmy request, give me a few days, it'll be out love 🪽(I'm busy asf rn)

Tw/cw; none!! All sfw this time :) see guys I can be family friendly when I want to be

Not proofread

I've actually gone over this in the tags of a different post, I do think Curly would be a girl dad. He'd want twin girls and you guys canNOT tell me different.

After you come home from the hospital, Curly would do literally everything for you and the new babies. He'd prepare healthy meals for you, he'd help clean and feed the babies, if one of them started crying in the middle of the night he'd insist on being the one to take care of it, etc.

Basically the bare minimum but is still praised because the bare minimum is hard to come by now.

I see Curly as the type of man to be raised by a single mom and having no father figure. Morbid? A bit, but it helped shape him into the super awesome sauce girl dad he is today.

Because of having an absent father, Curly would go above and beyond to make sure he's present in his children's lives. Any days he has off, he's spending time with you and your new baby girls. Oh, his daughter's are in a school play? He's calling off work and showing up with flowers and chocolates for both of them. Shit like that

Curly would come into work late or just take the day off completely if you needed extra help with the kids. He'd leave work early to pick them up from school if you couldn't. He WANTS to be there. And just remember guys, if he wanted to, he would.

Curly would also try to be home early so he could read them bedtime stories. Idk I just think that's cute.

Once they start growing up, he's getting more into their interests. Curly would be the type of dad to let his daughters put makeup on him and have them do his nails. He would happily walk into pony express as a well known captain and have nail polish everywhere on his hands BUT his nails.

And yes, he would help his kids with their homework. Something about Curly makes me think he took mathematics in college, and I can safely say he is breaking every generational curse by not making your children cry over their math homework.

BONUS CONTENT!!!; Curly would want older twin daughters (obviously, we just went over that) and a younger boy. He would want to name the boy Dallas, but I can't think of any names for the girls. He'd like the name Phoebe a lot, so probably that and maybe a name like Sophia for the other twin.

A/N; too many curly fics, must make master list

#i quite like the name dallas actually #mouthwashing curly #curly mouthwashing #mouthwashing #mouthwashing x reader #captain curly x reader #curly x reader #captain curly

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slafkovskys · 19 hours ago

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sid would totally blush when intern reader congratulates him on 600 goals and he quickly has to remind himself to school his features bc other people are around

and saturday’s game was the first game that you had gone to as his guest. he had let you know that there would be a ticket waiting for you if you wanted it and you had battled with whether or not you wanted to take him up on his offer. halfway through the first period, you’re marching out of your apartment and making your way to ppg paints arena.

your seat in the lower bowl placed you in between a couple of older women who took a trip to a new arena every year on one side and a group of frat boys donning utah jerseys on the other. safe to say when the puck left sidney’s stick and flew past the goalie with 10 seconds left on a power play, you were cheering with the girls.

you longer for awhile after, long enough for the arena to almost completely clear out and you really don’t know what you’re supposed to do. did he even want to see you after? the game resulted in a loss and not a close one at all. maybe he wasn’t in the mood for company, you decide. he hadn’t even responded to your i’m here! message.

with a defeated sigh, you adjust your bag on your shoulder and push yourself out of your seat and make your way through the aisle. you barely start up the steps when you hear a familiar chuckle, “where are you going?”

your head turns and finds sidney making his way up the stairs, stopping three below you. “i didn’t-”

“did you think i’d leave you a ticket and not come see you after? don’t you know that i’ve got a habit of wanting to see you?” you feel the blood rushing to your cheeks and you cross your legs at the ankle. the water bottle in his hand crunches as he waves a finger around, “what did you think?”

“600, i mean, that’s not light work,” you hum, “congratulations, sid. you deserve it.”

it’s his turn to flush and something flares in your chest at the sight. you were the one making sidney crosby, the sidney crosby who has played over 1000 professional hockey games and just scored his 600th goal, flustered. his free hand rubs over his face and as quickly as the blush appeared it was gone, “i’m glad that you were here to see it.”

“i’m sure i would’ve been planning a party for it soon,” you sigh. you don’t know when you decided to slowly let your guard down around him, to drop the professional act (maybe one of the times when his tongue was down your throat?) but this was fun. “thank you for the ticket, seriously. it was nice to be here and not have to worry about a balloon arch getting popped or an ice sculpture getting broken-”

“i would like it to be known i was not involved in either of those occurrences,” he quirks an eyebrow and you grin. a beat of silence passes between the two of you before he clears his throat, “i think that i’m in the mood to celebrate.”

“i would be.”

“c’mon. let’s get out of here,” he has a smile on his lips when he offers you his hand and you just stare at it for a moment, trying to process his words. sidney wanted to leave, with you, and he wanted to hold your hand while leaving. what? then your suddenly aware of where the two of you were.

while the arena had emptied out, it wasn’t empty. there were still workers lingering and even a few people who you could only guess were family members in the stands and you weren’t immune to their eyes on the two of you. your heart feels like it’s going to leap from your throat as you take sidney’s hand, letting your shoulders drop as he gives it a reassuring squeeze.

this was fine. everything was fine.

#sidney crosby #sidney x younger!reader #i didn’t not mean for this to be this long #so sorry

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candycandy00 · 19 hours ago

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Once Upon a Time - A Choso x Reader Fanfic Part 2

Retold fairytales featuring the JJK men! This is Rapunzel featuring Choso! While gathering herbs in the forest, you stumble into the garden of a strange man living in an abandoned watch tower. He talks often about his three little brothers, but you’re beginning to suspect they’re no longer there.

Part 1 | Part 2

Read Sukuna x Sleeping Beauty Here!

Read Gojo x Cinderella Here!

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Reader as Rapunzel. Reader has long hair (she kinda has to for this story) but no other distinguishing physical characteristics. Choso as a classic Yandere. Possessive behavior. Toxic love. Manipulation. Reader is locked up. Mentions of characters dying before the story began. Bondage (not used in a sexual context… yet).

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more and @benkeibear!

You slam the shutters closed and back away from the window. Already you’ve begun trembling from the cold, and despite the shackle on your ankle, you’re irrationally afraid of falling out the window.

The chain on the shackle clinks as you move, and you follow it back to see what it’s connected to. Under the straw mattress, you find a great metal hook where the end of the chain is fastened. You pull at it, but there’s no way to get it free. It seems to be built into the hook somehow.

Changing tactics, you sit down and examine the shackle itself. There’s a small keyhole on the side, and no other way to open it. You pull and jerk, but it doesn’t budge.

Why would Choso do this? You thought things were going so well. You even fell in love with him. Did he have something like this in mind the whole time? And what does he even plan to do with you?

You run through possibilities in your mind, but nothing makes sense. If he wanted to keep you here for sex, why bother when you slept with him willingly? You make him all the medicines he wants. You spend time with him and even invited him to come visit you. What else could he possibly want from you?

Just then you notice that your hair has been tied back up into a ponytail. It’s a bit messier than when you do it, but it’s clear that Choso has made an effort. Why would he do something so considerate while doing something as terrible as chaining you up?

Footsteps echo through the room, and you look toward the door. Someone is coming up the stairs, and unless you’re completely wrong about his brothers being dead, it’s definitely Choso.

You feel a surge of panic. Whatever he wants from you, it can’t be good if he’s taken you captive. You’re not sure if your heart can handle being hurt by someone you’ve come to love, someone you were so intimate with just before you were knocked out.

The door opens, and Choso is on the other side, holding a plate of food. His eyes widen when he sees you standing there in the middle of the room.

“Oh, you’re awake,” he says, relief in his voice. He steps inside and sits the plate on the dresser. “I brought dinner just in case, but I was worried you’d still be asleep. That sleep medicine you made is more potent than I thought. Or maybe I used too much. It’s been two days.”

Two days?! You’d guessed around twelve hours! But this is no time to be shocked into silence.

“Why have you taken me prisoner?” you ask, trying to keep your tone even and calm. Losing your cool will be no help at all.

He blinks. “Prisoner? No, that’s not what I’m doing. I’m keeping you safe. After the threat is gone, I’ll take you home.”

“The threat? You mean the wolves?” How could he possibly rid the forest of wolves single handedly? Or is this just a way for him to keep you here indefinitely?

“Yes, the wolves,” he replies, seemingly oblivious to how ridiculous that sounds. “Well, that particular pack of wolves. I’ll hunt them down and kill them all, so they won’t ever hurt you again.”

You step closer to him. “Choso, you don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine! The wolves are less active during the day, so just escort me home now while the sun is still up, and-“

“No!” he shouts, making you flinch and step back. His face then softens immediately, as if your reaction pained him. “I’m sorry for yelling, but I can’t let you leave until I know you’ll be safe. I promise I’ll take care of you, so don’t worry!”

“Choso-“

“I’ll cook meals for you every day,” he continues, cutting you off. “You like my cooking, right? I went to the village yesterday and bought you a couple of dresses to wear, and some books to read so you won’t be bored!”

“Please, Choso, listen to me,” you say, approaching him again. “I know you mean well, and you’re trying to look out for me, but this isn’t the way to do it. I need to go home. You can’t keep me here against my will.”

This time he takes a step back. “I’ll take you home as soon as I kill the wolves. It won’t take too long, but I can’t let you go before then. Those wolves are bloodthirsty, and they’re not afraid to attack humans.”

You stare at him for a moment, wondering if you should say the words bubbling up in your mouth. Since he’s taken things this far, you decide to stop dancing around the topic and ask, “Is that what happened to your brothers?”

His face goes blank, his eyes looking eerily empty as he says, “What are you talking about? My brothers are downstairs playing.”

For that brief moment, Choso frightens you to your core. For that one solitary moment, you believe he’s capable of anything.

You feel your eyes becoming wet. “Choso, I’m more afraid of you than the wolves right now.”

He looks hurt, reeling back as if he’s been slapped. “Me? But I’d never hurt you! I’m doing all this to protect you!”

“But I don’t want this kind of protection,” you say as calmly as possible. “Don’t you care what I want?”

He wears a conflicted expression, which is a good sign. Maybe you can reach him. He backs up toward the door. “Of course I care, but I care more about keeping you safe,” he says as he opens the door and steps out. “Please eat. I’ll come check on you a little later.” Then the door closes.

You stand there for a while, listening to his footsteps carrying him down the stairs. Once he sounds far enough away, you go over to the dresser and pick up the plate. Your gut reaction is to smash it on the floor, but starving yourself will get you nowhere. It might even end with Choso forcing food down your throat.

No, the best idea is to appeal to Choso’s care for you. He’s clearly been driven mad by grief over his brothers, and it’s impossible to tell what he’d do when pushed into a corner.

But the worst part is that, despite what he’s doing, you still feel love for Choso. He seems to sincerely believe he’s protecting you.

For now, you decide to bide your time and try talking some sense into him.

Later that evening, Choso returns to the top of the tower. When he opens the door and steps into the room, you gasp at the sight of him.

His clothes are torn, there are bloody scratches all over him, and he’s carrying a heavy-looking wool sack.

You quickly get to your feet and hurry over, but the chain prevents you from reaching him. He’s just inside the door, barely out of your reach. You extend one hand toward him. “Choso, what happened?!” No matter what he’s done, you still can’t bear to see him hurt.

Choso looks at her with an anguished expression when he realizes she’s trying to come to him but can’t, because of the shackle he placed on her ankle. He takes the ten steps needed to be close enough for her to touch him, sighing in relief when her soft hands touch his shoulders.

“I’m alright,” he tells her, shifting the bag to one arm. “More importantly, I brought you a gift.”

She looks skeptical. Of course she does. He’s well aware that she’s unhappy with this situation. He doesn’t like making her unhappy, but he knows she’ll understand after she’s here for a while with him. Eventually she’ll come to like being kept safe and pampered here.

He opens the bag and dumps out the contents on the floor in front of her. Two gifts that will surely prove his devotion to her. Two bloody, mangled wolf carcasses.

She doesn’t scream, but instead makes a strange little cry of alarm, barely above a whisper, as she steps back, one hand closed over her mouth.

“Don’t you recognize them?” he asks, squatting down to hold one of them up. “These are two of the wolves that attacked you. There’s only four more.”

She looks horrified as her lovely eyes take in the dead wolves, then shift to his face. “You killed them yourself?”

Choso smiles, feeling proud. “Yes, with a hatchet! It was fairly easy to take a couple down once I drove the pack to separate, then I-“

He notices she’s crying, and it makes the words dry up in his mouth. She looks aghast.

“Please don’t do something like this again!” she cries. “Think about what would happen if you’re killed by the wolves! I’d be trapped here alone, with no food or water!”

Choso’s heart nearly stops when he hears her words. How could he have been so careless? He put her at risk! “I’m sorry!” he says, dropping to his knees beside the wolves. “I didn’t consider that! I’ll bring extra food and water tomorrow, and I’ll be very careful when I kill the rest of the pack!”

She kneels down in front of him. “Don’t kill the rest of them! Please just stop all this. Wolf attacks are rare. I’m sure it won’t happen again. I’ll forgive you if you let me go home when the sun comes up.”

Her words are logical. They make perfect sense to Choso, but he knows logic isn’t always right. He can’t risk her being attacked again. Standing up, he looks down at her. “After I kill the remaining four, I’ll take you home. I promise. And don’t worry, I’ve killed a bigger pack than this one before. I know what I’m doing.”

She lowers her head in defeat, not even looking up when he places the dead wolves in the bag and leaves the room.

Back downstairs, he strips off the bloody clothes and cleans up in the small washroom beside the kitchen. There’s a similar washroom upstairs for her to use. He cleaned her body the day before, while she was still sleeping, but he was careful to protect her modesty as best he could and not touch her inappropriately.

After washing his hair and drying off, Choso pulls on loose fitting black pants and sits near the fireplace to warm up. He can’t help remembering how he made love to her in this very spot only two days earlier. When he’d been fully sheathed inside her, wrapped in her arms, he felt at peace for the first time in years.

It was almost enough to make him forget.

After a few minutes, he decides to go up and check on her. He misses the time they spent talking happily together, sharing stories about their lives. He hopes they can go back to that someday. These are his thoughts as he climbs the steps of the tower.

You’re surprised when you hear footsteps on the stairs again. You didn’t expect Choso to come back again so late, but when he opens the door, he’s standing there in only black pants, no shirt, his hair loose around his shoulders and slightly damp.

It reminds you that you find him very attractive, and you wish you could just turn that part of your brain off.

“Ah, sorry if I’m bothering you,” he says, looking a little sheepish. “I think it’s time to change your bandages. Is it alright if I help you?”

You already found a drawer full of supplies in the dresser, but you haven’t changed them yet. To be honest, that’s been the last thing on your mind today.

You’re not quite sure whether you should accept his help, or anything else. You haven’t even looked at the dresses he bought for you, spending the day in your slip. There’s a coal heater in the room, with a vent built into the wall to prevent smoke buildup, so you haven’t been cold unless you open the window.

He stands there looking like a lost puppy, and you can’t help yourself. “Alright, you can help me,” you say, sitting on the mattress.

Looking pleased, he hurries over to the drawer and gathers supplies, then sits down beside you. His hands are nearly shaking as he carefully removes the bandages from your hand and arm. As always, his touches are light and gentle, his fingertips soft on your skin. He continues this process with your other wounds, and it feels so nice and relaxing that your guard drops completely.

When he’s finished, he starts to stand up, but you place one hand on his arm. “What about you?” you ask him, looking at the numerous shallow cuts and scratches on his firm torso. “Let me help you.”

His eyes widen slightly, a faint dusting of pink on his pale face as he settles back onto the floor and nods. With the same care he demonstrated, you clean and wrap his wounds with bandages, your hands lingering on his abdomen. You wonder if he’s aroused right now, considering the way his breaths are coming quicker and his eyes seem to be darker.

Do you want him to be aroused?

You’re not certain what you want. And while you’re still in this vague mindset, Choso softly asks, “May I touch you?”

Slightly dazed by his closeness, you say yes, assuming he plans to embrace you when he moves to be behind you.

Instead, his warm hand slides under the fabric of your slip, between your legs. You gasp when his fingers gently prod your folds open and find your clit, stroking it until you become wet.

“You liked it when I touched you here, right?” he says into your ear, and your whole body shivers.

You shouldn’t let this happen. You should tell him to stop. Being intimate with him again will only make him feel like his behavior is okay. But you’ve been so stressed today, so wound up and worried. And Choso looks so beautiful with his hair down, his fingers feel so good, causing currents of electric pleasure to ripple through you.

You should stop this, but instead you lean back against him, opening your thighs. You turn your head to look at him over your shoulder, one of your hands moving to his hair and pulling his face close enough to kiss him. You moan into his mouth as he continues rubbing your clit, your body beginning to quiver.

Breaking the kiss, you look him in the eyes. “Choso… take me,” you plead, peeling off the slip and leaving yourself nude.

You don’t have to ask twice. With an urgency bordering on desperation, he pushes you forward, onto your hands and knees on the floor. Within seconds, he’s shoving into you, a short whimpering cry escaping his lips as your warm, slick walls close around him.

He’s less careful this time, less gentle as he thrusts into you from behind, as if he can’t hold himself back any longer.

One of his hands slides around to continue stroking your clit, making you sob out a moan. His other hand reaches around your face, where his fingers dip into your open mouth. His thrusts get harder, faster, and the chain connected to your ankle clinks as it rattles.

Oh god, you’re falling into madness with him.

When you cum with a great shudder, you inadvertently bite down on his fingers, tasting his blood. He doesn’t even try to withdraw them.

When he cums, fully inside you, he leans over your shaking form and says into your ear, “I love you so much. I’ll keep you safe… forever!”

The words, sounding sweet at first, snap you back to your senses when you realize what he’s actually saying.

He intends to keep you captive here for the rest of your life. He’ll never let you go.

The thought is sobering, and you instantly lose the sense of pleasure you’d just felt. In a moment of weakness, you’ve made a terrible mistake.

When Choso pulls out, he wraps his arms around you, clearly wanting to be close for a while longer. You pull away from his grasp and say, “I need to go clean up.”

He looks at you as you stand up. “Do you need any help?” he asks, seeming so kind.

“No, I’m fine,” you say, not meeting his eyes.

You spend longer in the washroom than you need, hoping he’ll be gone back downstairs when you come back out. Unfortunately, he’s still sitting on the floor when you return. He must have noticed your change in attitude, because he looks worried.

“Are you upset?”

You finally look him in the eyes. There are lots of things you want to say, but all of them would probably make this situation worse. No, you need to be smart about this. Making him freak out and be on his guard will be no help to you.

“I’m just tired,” you say. “It’s been a long day.”

He gets to his feet and hovers awkwardly for a little while before heading for the door. “I guess I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll bring your breakfast.”

“Thanks, Choso,” you tell him, pulling on your slip and sitting down on the mattress.

He gives you an uneasy smile, then leaves the room. You listen to his footsteps, waiting until you can no longer hear them.

A plan is already forming in your mind. You’ve realized tonight that you have to escape, and soon. The first step is to get rid of the shackle. Choso locks the door each time he leaves, but there’s a chance he might forget at some point. You need to be ready for that possibility.

Sitting on the mattress, you bring your shackled ankle close and carefully remove the strips of cloth Choso has tied underneath the metal. Then you grit your teeth and begin yanking on the chain, pulling it harshly against your skin. After several painful minutes, you tie the cloth back around your ankle and slide it under the shackle.

The next morning, Choso brings your breakfast and sits it on the dresser. He walks over to where you’re sitting and says, “How are you feeling today?”

You look up at him, rubbing your leg absently. “I’m okay. It’s just…”

“Hmm? Is something wrong?”

You extend your leg, the chain clinking. “My ankle hurts.”

He squats down and gently begins untying the cloth. When it falls away, a look of horror spreads across his face. Your ankle is wrapped in deep purple bruises.

“I’m so sorry!” he says, digging around in his pockets and pulling out a small key. “I thought the cloth would be enough to cushion it!”

He quickly unlocks the shackle, then pulls it away from you. With one hand you rub over it, wincing. “I think it happened last night, when we were together,” you tell him.

His face reddens. “I never realized it. I’ll leave the shackle off for a while. Maybe you don’t even need it.”

You don’t say anything to that, afraid you might say something that makes him suspicious.

The day wears on, Choso bringing you meals and even applying a salve to your ankle. He seems happy to see you wearing one of the dresses he bought for you.

He doesn’t know you’re preparing.

By nightfall, you stop hearing any sounds whatsoever, and you have no doubt he’s gone to hunt the wolves again. This is the time to act!

You start by checking the door, just in case. As expected, it’s locked up tight. But that’s okay. You have a back up plan.

It takes you several minutes to unfasten all the loops and ties in your hair, which you’d redone after Choso’s attempt at fixing it back. Once all of it is loose, you begin twisting it around into something resembling a rope. Then you drag the heavy dresser over to the window and tie the end of your hair around one of its legs.

You open the window and look down, trying to judge the distance. You’ve done this many times already, and you’re still not certain you can reach the bottom. Even if you do, you’ll have to make a horrible decision.

You’ll have to cut your hair.

It’s the only way to escape, and you have a small blade that Choso left with the medical supplies, for cutting off strips of bandages.

You have no choice. Choso will keep you here forever. There will always be more wolves in the forest. The longer you stay here, the harder it will be to escape, the more you’ll grow comfortable with being held captive by him.

Steeling your nerves and your heart, you open the window and climb onto the ledge. Holding tightly to your hair as if it’s a rope, you begin easing yourself down, keeping your feet on the side of the tower.

The climb down is terrifying. If your feet should slip, or your hands lose their grip on your hair, you could fall the rest of the way. Depending on how the length of your hair compares to the tower, you could smash into the ground or have your neck snapped if your hair suddenly stops your fall from this height.

Luckily, it’s too dark to see much when you look down, so you can focus all your attention on your descent.

It takes longer than you expected. At least twice you hear the sound of wolves howling. Is Choso hunting them now? You hope he’s not hurt, but you also hope he doesn’t come back before you’re gone.

Finally, you reach the end of your hair, leaving yourself only enough slack to move your head around. You look down, and the ground looks close enough that dropping from here wouldn’t hurt at all. It’s now or never.

You pull the blade from a pocket in your dress and take a deep breath, then you begin cutting through your hair. Tear fill your eyes as you watch the strands split off from each other. Your hair is sacred, it represents your spirit, but those are just ideas you grew up with. Logically, you know it’s just hair. It will grow back. But it’s still emotional for you.

Once you’ve cut it free of your head, you extend your arms, holding onto the end of the “ rope”, giving yourself a few more inches, and then you drop.

The ground rises up to meet you, and your legs quiver when the impact shoots from your feet up to your hips. It hurts, but you don’t think you’ve injured anything. You catch your breath, then run around to the other side of the tower, toward the path you’re familiar with that leads back to the village. You try not to think about your hair, about how it’s barely long enough to cover your ears now.

When you round the tower, you stop dead in your tracks.

Just a few feet away from you, Choso is walking toward the tower, a dead wolf thrown across his shoulder.

#choso x reader #choso #choso kamo #choso smut #jjk x reader #x reader

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short-honey-badger · 3 hours ago

Text

Doll 2

Pairings: Shanks x Female Reader

Summary: Shanks can't stop thinking about you and how you'll fit in with the crew

Warnings: late night thoughts and mentions of abuse

Doll part 1

Later that night, while Shanks lay in the room he'd rented, the redhead couldn't stop thinking about you. Even while pleasantly buzzed still from earlier, his mind was a whirlwind of thought, and as much as it disgusted him to consider, he did want to know what kind of slave you were. The Celestial Dragons were known to keep all kinds of races, from Fishman to Giants. Labor, entertainment, pleasure.

Shanks hoped that you hadn't been part of the latter. You didn't seem like it, didn't have the innate sultry look that Shanks had seen before, but that didn't mean you couldn't hide it from him. He could go ask you, demand you tell him since he was the one who decided to bring you on board, but the thought of doing that left an awful taste in his mouth. Shanks wanted you to trust him. He wanted to be your friend.

You hadn't told him much about your past, only the little bit that you’d been willing to share with him so far, but Shanks wanted you to feel safe enough that you would want to share everything with him eventually. He wanted to see you smile more, wanted to see you relax and feel at home with him and the rest of his crew. You wanted to know everything, so Shanks would make sure you got what you wanted.

A knock on his door tore the captain from his thoughts, and he jumped from the bed to open the door. You stood on the other side, a contrite expression on your face. His own schools into one of concern and lean against the doorway.

“Everything okay, Doll?” He asks quietly and has a hard time not reaching out to cup her face when you bite your lip and avoid his eyes. He waits patiently for you, not willing to rush you into anything that you might not be read for.

“I just wanted to say thank you. I didn’t earlier, and it’s been bothering me,” you ramble and then fall silent. You don’t want your new captain to rescind his offer to join him, but you’ve been instructed to say please and thank you since you could remember, even if whatever you’d been sent to do ended in punishment.

Shanks softens even more at your admission. He can see the old fear lingering in your eyes, and it makes rage boil in his chest that you’ve been subject to such treatment that a simple thank you made you so nervous. He doesn’t fight the urge this time to reach out to cup your face in his hand, his lips turning up in a sad smile.

“Sweetheart. You don’t have to thank me for something like this. Don’t think you have to treat me and mine like you had to treat those bastards. I don’t own you, Doll. You own yourself.”

He watches in mild panic as tears form in your eyes, and then he has a chest full of sobbing woman. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer to try and provide some form of comfort. Shanks isn’t the best at this, but for you? He’d try his damndest. He dips his head and presses a kiss to the top of your head and listens as your sobs begin to slow down into quiet sniffles.

You grimace as you pull away and look at his shirt from where your face had been pressed, “I’m sorry, I got you all nasty.”

Shanks laughs and shakes his head. You were adorable like this, and he couldn’t get enough of it, “Darling. I promise you that this shirt has had worse than some snot and tears on it.”

The look of disgust that paints your face is all worth the confession, and Shanks only laughs harder when you pull away and wipe your face. You crinkle your nose and eye him with a now skeptical look, “When was the last time you washed that shirt?”

Shanks aims an innocent look, lips pursed as he shrugs a shoulder. You scoff and cross your arms, but your fear from earlier seems to be gone, so the redhead is happy.

“Maybe it is a good thing I’m coming along. A crew full of men probably needs a woman’s touch,” You quip, and Shanks can’t help but silently agree. He won’t lie and say that the laundry doesn’t get piled up on occasion. Or the dishes despite Lucky Roux keeping the kitchen orderly. He’s guilty himself for letting his quarters get a little too messy. But he didn’t bring you along so that you could be their maid.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, _,” Shanks murmurs, tone dropping the playful tilt as he catches her chin in his hand, “I’m not bringing you with us for that.”

His heart thuds in his chest at the smile that you send him. You slowly reach up and wrap your fingers around his wrist, squeezing softly before letting your hand fall back to your side. It makes you feel good that Shanks is taking your comfort in mind, but you wouldn’t be a burden on his ship.

“I know that, but I don’t think I could physically just sit around and do nothing. I’ve worked… my whole life, Shanks, and I don’t want to be just another mouth to feed. I want to be helpful,” you say and shrug a little helplessly. The only break you’ve ever had was in the last month of your escape, but even then, you were constantly looking over your shoulder, wondering if this would be the day that someone recognized you and dragged you back to Marie Geois. The guilt of leaving the other slaves behind still ate at you, and you wished that you could have been able to take them with you.

“Then we’ll figure it out as we go, Doll,” Shanks promises and strokes his thumb along your jaw like he had earlier before he drops his hand. He doesn’t want you to think that he wants you for anything other than your company. Not that you’re not beautiful, but Shanks doesn’t want you to think he expected something like that from you. Not unless you wanted it.

You blush at th efeeling of the rough pad of his finger against your skin. You didn’t like it when people touched you, but you found that dislike absent when Shanks did it. It felt natural and kept you grounded in a way you didn’t expect. You flick your eyes up, catching his own and send him a small smile, “Thank you again, Shanks.”

The redhead meets it with a grin of his own. A yawn suddenly catches you off guard, and you cover your mouth with a hand, eyes squinting as you look away from him. Shanks snickers at the way your nose scrunches up and steps back into his room.

“Go catch some sleep, Doll. We’ll stay here a couple more days to resupply, and then we’ll be on our way,” Shanks yawns himself halfway through, his words coming out slow and choppy before they even out. He smirks when his antics make you laugh, and then he is watching you turn on your heel and lope down the hall, “Night, Doll.”

“Night, Shanks,” you call softly back, and then you disappear around the corner. Shanks sighs once you are gone. Mind stuffed even more with thoughts about you as he shuts the door and lays back down. He rubs a hand down his face and rolls to his side, vowing to figure out the details in the morning.

#reader insert #one piece #shanks x reader #red haired shanks #shanks #opla shanks #one piece x reader

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woaza · 16 hours ago

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Scar(Arcane) x reader

Contains : Thoughts and long drabbles.

Word count : 3.4k

Warnings : None!

A/n : Wish we knew more about him so bad. I’m definitely open for discussion on him. I’m trying to understand his character with what little information we have. Lowkey wrote way too much? Especially because this is all speculation.

— We see throughout the little bits and pieces of screen time that he has, that he’s a somewhat caring person. Just rough around the edges, but I don’t think he’s this rough brute. When you first meets you he’s not going to be overly kind. Definitely the type to keep his distance until he has a reason to be around you. Like he’s sweet to Ekko, his daughter, and the other firelights. He has a lot of weight on his shoulders (someone check up on his posture asap) so it makes sense for him to be weary of strangers. His life and people he cares about are constantly on his conscious.

So It seems as if once he cares about you he really cares. He will make sure to show it. Definitely doesn’t seem like the type of man to think he’s ’too tough’ for emotions. Yes maybe a front (a very big front. Always grunting and looking angry) he puts on, but that’s not him. Once you’ve earned a place in his heart he will show it. Doing everything in his ability’s to be there for you. Especially as his S/O. He trusts you with so much, not only his heart but to be around his daughter. You’re part of his whole world, you are a big part of it. That doesn’t come easy for him but once he loves you, he loves you.

— He definitely takes things as it comes. Trying to take Day by day. He learns from everything he sees. Which is a necessity for someone in his position. Probably has had to his whole life, most people in the under-city feel that way. That’s very much the mentality he has with your relationship. Of course he thinks ahead sometimes, he’s not an air head. He and Ekko discuss their concerns with the firelights and their base. To many people? Not enough resources? He’s thought about it, but at the end of the day all he truly wants is to return by your side.

That’s another thing he can’t help but overthink. You. Where he wants to go with you, how will your relationship progress? He wants to do everything he can for you. Often worries he’s not giving you or his daughter enough. Although he dose his best to just appreciate every moment he has with you.

— A very alert person, always conscious of what’s going on around him. From when him and Ekko are on a mission and he’s helping Ekko dodge bullets to making sure his daughter dosent trip as she’s taking her first steps. He seemingly always knows what’s going on around him. Especially with his sensitive hearing. You could be in another room and let out a disappointed sigh, and he’d stick his head in the room a double check to make sure you’re okay. (All because he heard you sigh from down the hallway.)

— Goes nonverbal a lot. As his S/o you learn to understand all his grunts and shoulder rolls. Especially if your around people he dosent trust or are meeting for the first time. (With expectations.)

We saw him with the children, who all seemed to be comfortable around him. Maybe he was even watching over them. So I’d like to think he has a soft spot for children.

— Super protective of you and his daughter. His little family means everything to him. He wouldn’t do all of this if it weren’t for you two. If people even look at either of you side ways, he’s quick to send a glare back. He’s not protective in a jealousy kind of way, he definitely trusts you and is confident in your relationship. If he wasn’t or didn’t trust you to even do that. He wouldn’t have even bothered with a relationship in the first place. It’s safe to say he truly loves and trusts you if he decides to build a relationship with you.

A/n: I have sooooo much more to write about him. Trust I will write more.

#scar x reader #scar arcane #arcane scar #arcane fic #arcane scar x reader #arcane #arcane x reader

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amethystwrytes · 1 day ago

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Safe (Part Eight)

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin X Fem. Reader X Lee Minho

Summary: A broke ER Nurse offers up her services to a large crime organization in exchange for much higher pay and benefits that are unconventional, but lucrative. The life proves to be questionable at best, and downright isolating at worst which leaves her feeling unsure, unstable and dangerous.

Warnings: Explicit language. Explicit depictions of sex (some chapters will be more explicit than others sexually). Violence. Blood. Trauma injuries. (Organized) Crime. Emotional manipulation. Depiction of murder and physical assault. Medical inaccuracy galore. Smoking. Past addiction. 18+ Only MDNI.

Chapter WC: 10K

AN: Just a friendly reminder to peep warnings on this story (and any story that offers them) just in case you see something that makes you uncomfortable that you'd like to avoid.

~ Part Eight ~ (Series M. List Here)

“That’s a strong heartbeat Ms. ___,” the doctor smiles and turns a dial on the machine. The quiet room fills with what sounds like galloping horses, “Everything looks fantastic. Let’s measure the sack, and I can tell you about how far along you are.”

The doctor turns the dial back down a bit, slides the ultrasound wand from your vagina which you appreciate, and clicks some things on the screen.

“When will we know if it’s a boy or a girl?” Hyunjin asks excitedly.

The doctor smiles, “There are blood tests we can do near the end of the first trimester, but the anatomy scan won’t occur until Ms. ___ is about twenty-eight weeks along and right now…” the Doctor types something out on the keyboard, “she is only about ten weeks.”

The doctor clicks another button and a piece of paper slides out of the machine, she rips it off and hands it to you, “A picture of the baby,” she smiles.

“And everything looks okay?” you ask again, your fingertips gently caressing the paper in your hands.

“Yeah, right now everything looks wonderful. Did you want to schedule the blood tests in a few weeks to determine gender, and uhm,” she looks at the three of you, “we could also add DNA to the labs…”

“Excuse me?” Minhos voice gets darker and he narrows his eyes at the Doctor, you know that look and sit up quickly, squeezing his hand in yours.

“That won’t be necessary,” you smile politely, “Let’s just schedule whatever labs are required for me and to make sure the baby is healthy, but everything else can wait.”

The doctor gives you a nervous smile, “Right, okay then. Well, congratulations, again, and make sure to take your vitamins, drink plenty of water daily, and stay away from alcohol and the food items that are on the list that the nurse gave you, I’ll see you in about three more weeks.”

The doctor all but runs out of the room and you and Hyunjin look at Minho.

“What?” he asks, fingering the cuff of his sleeve as he stands.

“You need to behave in public,” you snort, removing the awful paper exam gown and grabbing your neatly folded clothes, “or I can’t bring you boys to my appointments. You scared that woman.”

“She crossed a line,” Minho points out, “If we wanted a DNA test we’d have asked for it.”

“I could wait for her in the lot, kill her after work,” Hyunjin teases, pantomiming himself choking her out with piano wire, and you smack his arm.

“Not helping!” you hiss.

“It was a shitty question,” he counters with a shrug.

“Okay maybe, yes, but we’re going to have to get used to weird questions and odd looks. I mean, look at us,” you gesture.

The room goes silent for a moment before the three of you start to giggle.

“I’ll be polite and forgiving,” Minho smiles, “for you.”

“Thank you.”

As the three of you are walking out into the lobby you hear a voice call your name.

“___?”

You turn and see Hanna, you worked with her in the Emergency Room at the hospital.

“Oh my god! It’s been ages,” she greets you with a hug.

“Hanna, how are you?”

“I’m good, I was about to go on a break and saw you,” she smiles. “Are you pregnant?”

“I, um, yes, I am,” you smile awkwardly. “Do you work here now?”

“Yeah, I switched from ER to Obstetrics, I was so tired of the drama at the hospital, I just wanted a better shift and to go home at 5pm,” she laughs, “but you! Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” you smile and you can feel her catching up to the moment, finally seeing the two men standing behind you. “Um, this is Lee Minho and Hwang Hyunjin.”

She looks between the two men, “Nice to meet you…both.”

“We really ought to be going,” you say.

“Well, we should catch up soon! Honestly, it’s like you disappeared into thin air. One night you were at work and the next the admins were saying you quit without notice, I mean…where did you go? Are you working anywhere?”

“No, I um…it’s like you said, I just got tired of the drama and the rough shifts and such.”

“So you’re not working at all?”

“I am, it’s just more of a private practice kind of gig,” you lie, sort of.

“Oh, well, you should give me a call sometime, my number’s still the same, I’d love to hear about it, and what you’ve been up to,” she eyes the two men again.

“Yeah, absolutely,” you nod, “take care okay!”

You don’t give her the time to respond before you quickly push through the glass doors and out into the parking lot.

Christopher waits for the three of you in the SUV. Hyunjin climbs into the passenger seat while Minho slides into the back with you.

“What was that?” he asks.

“What was what?” you reply as if you don’t know what he’s referring to.

“Why were you weird with your friend?”

“Was I?”

“Kitten,” Minho raises an eyebrow and gives you a stern look.

“I just…” you shake your head and shrug, “I’ve been average my whole life, just normal, and I’m not anymore. I nurse criminals back to health and I’m in a polyamorous relationship with two of them and also pregnant and I just don’t know how to explain that.”

“Are you ashamed?” he asks and while there is no defense or accusation in his tone, it still makes you feel guilty, uncomfortable.

“No, I’m not ashamed of you, or us, or what I’m doing but I also haven’t had to be in a position where I needed to explain it all, Hanna caught me off guard. That’s all,” you explain.

“Okay,” he nods, reaching across the seat to squeeze your hand, “I love you ___, I want you to be comfortable and happy, you know that, right?”

“Yes baby, I know.”

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

“I had a meeting with Kim Namjoon today,” Minho says, sitting at the dining table, the entire group waiting intently for information. “He got a message from a realtor friend of his that Taehyung is about to close on some property, an abandoned sugar mill near the river.”

“Well, it’s no secret he knows that we found his storehouse location, I got shot for it,” Seungmin says, “Clearly he’s looking for a new place to hide all his goodies, including our guns.”

“Exactly,” Minho nods, “They close this coming Saturday, he’ll get the keys to the lot, and by Saturday night his shit and our weapons will be moved to a new location we’re not familiar with.”

“What do you want to do?” Hyunjin asks.

“How well do you all have the warehouse memorized?”

“We could all tattoo it on our asses from memory,” Changbin jokes.

“Then tonight we set a plan in stone, and tomorrow night, we do this shit. No more talking about it, we steal those fucking guns back, set Kim Taehyungs life on fire, and watch it burn to the ground.”

The room goes quiet and you lean back on the countertop, your fingers squeezing around the edge. This is actually going to happen. For weeks it’s just been a conversation, a recon mission, and an unrealized plan of action. You knew it was coming, and you knew it was coming quickly, but your skin still feels clammy, and your heart rate jumps as you think of the inevitable danger that’s now a mere twenty four hours away.

You don’t want to know any more. You kiss Minho on the cheek and squeeze Hyunjins shoulder as you make your way up the stairs to the bedroom. All you need to do is be ready, for what? You can’t really say. However you don’t need to know the gory details of how they plan to break into Taehyungs storehouse, who they plan to hurt, and how they intend to get out with the least amount of damage done to them if such a thing is possible. Hyunjin and Felix seemed to be certain that someone might die in attempting this, and your heart hurts contemplating that thought. Would it be Jeongin or Changbin or Felix? Maybe Seungmins stubborn ass, or sweet Jisung. God forbid Minho or Hyunjin, the very thought twists your insides apart.

No. No you can’t quite let yourself think about it. You decide to think about treatment only. As you slide into the soothing bath water you think about different types of stitches, trauma procedures, and what medications you might need at the ready. You won’t lose anyone, you can’t. You’re too deep in this to imagine losing any of these men you care about.

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

Then

It’s 6:50am and you just clocked out, walking out of the hospital into the dark parking lot, the sun not quite up yet, the sky a mixture of gray and dark clouds, indicating a storm is coming.

You take a deep breath and reach into your bag for your keys, walking into the maze of the lot toward your beat ass car.

“Excuse me, ma’am?”

You nearly jump out of your skin, your keys falling to the ground with a clanky thud. You look at the man slinking up to you, hands in his pockets.

“Yes?” you respond hesitantly, gripping one of your keys between your index and middle fingers, ready to strike in case this person means to harm you.

“Do you work here?” he continues. You look at your ID badge hanging over your left shirt pocket, and the light pink scrubs you wear and stare at him.

“Yeah?”

“Sorry, what I mean to ask is, are you like, a doctor or something?”

“I’m an RN,” you answer and he continues just blinking at you, “a nurse. Are you hurt?” you look at the man, who appears to be just fine.

“No, but my friend, he needs help,” the man replies, gesturing with his thumb behind him to some unseen distressed friend.

“The entrance to the Emergency Room is just straight ahead,” you turn and point from where you just came from, “The big red letters that say Emergency, you can’t miss them,” you say and turn back to your car.

“See, the thing is,” he takes another step towards you and you instinctively take a step back, “We can’t go inside.”

“Why can’t you go inside?”

“I can explain everything but my friend really needs your help,” he says.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” you laugh, “Do you think I’m going to follow a strange man deep into this massive parking lot for you to throw me in a trunk or something?”

“No ma’am, please, I mean you absolutely no harm, and I’ll explain while we walk but my friend…he’s bad, alright? There’s blood everywhere and it won’t stop and I’m afraid he’s going to die but I cannot take him into the hospital or he definitely will.”

“This is the part of our conversation where I whip my phone out and call security dude, so either take your friend into the hospital or get lost, okay?” you scoff and twist your key into the lock of your car door.

“Miss….” the mans expression is pleading and you look at him, really look at him, the fear in his eyes and the worry, “Please. Please help us.”

You stand staring for a few seconds more then let out a windstorm of a sigh.

“Fine. I have an emergency first aid kit in my trunk, hold on,” you slam the drivers door and slink to the trunk, opening it quickly to grab your bag and sling it over your shoulder. “Lead the way then.”

You follow the man deeper into the lot, weaving in and out of car aisles.

“You said you’d explain? Why don’t you start with your name and what happened,” you demand.

“My name is Hwang Hyunjin, my friends name is Minho and there’s one other guy with us, Jisung,” he starts.

“Three against one, fantastic,” you deadpan.

“I promise we aren’t going to hurt you ma’am, my friend, Minho, he’s an important man and lots of people want him dead, if he goes into that hospital and someone recognizes him, well it could be dangerous for him and anyone near him, including your coworkers, okay?”

“I don’t like the sound of that at all Hwang Hyunjin,” you shake your head as he stops at the rear of a large black van. Oh great, you think.

“Please?” he opens the doors to reveal two men, one of them holding a dirty towel over a wound, the other man wincing in pain, struggling with breath and looking very, very injured.

“Shit,” you mutter, crawling into the van, nurse mode on and completely forgetting that this could all be a trap. Although, judging by the man writhing in pain before you, you think perhaps Hwang Hyunjin was telling the truth after all.

“What happened?” you ask the other two men.

“He was shot…”

Your eyes widen as you look around, what have you gotten yourself into?

“I see,” you clench your jaw and take a closer look at the wound. “Your name’s Minho?” you ask and the man with the wound, who seems to have just now noticed you, opens his dark eyes and nods.

“Okay Minho,” you say rummaging through your woefully lacking bag, “I’m going to have to run back into the hospital, I think this is outside the capacity of my little first aid bag. Is the bullet still inside or did it go through?” you ask.

“I believe it’s still inside but I’m not sure,” Hyunjin answers.

“I need to go get a GSW kit from the med room,” you back slowly away from the van and two of the three men look at you as if they expect you to come back with security. You ought to. Every security protocol that exists is being broken right now. You try not to think about it as you jog back toward the hospital.

“Forget something?” Seokjin, the emergency department guard, cocks his head toward you.

“Yes, um, in my locker,” you fake a chuckle as you glide by. You should tell him there’s a man in the parking lot trying to be treated outside the hospital, tell him that this man is obviously some kind of bad guy, yet for some reason you don’t.

The GSW kits are locked up with the other supplies in a nearby closet, and you can’t scan your ID because if or when someone realizes it’s missing they’ll be able to trace it to you. You sigh, looking around to make sure no one is watching as you pluck Sunni’s ID badge off the nurses desk - she always leaves it lying around. It’s wrong what you’re doing, stealing things under her name, but you push through the door, grab the kit and a few extra things, shove them into your backpack and head back out. Shift changes are always busy, the incoming staff doing their first rounds to get acclimated to new patients and their needs, so you go through completely undetected except by Seokjin, who doesn’t seem to care, and plays his Nintendo Switch at the lobby desk as he always does, just giving you a smile and a nod on your way out.

You run back toward the van and swing open the doors. Hyunjin looks thoroughly impressed that you are still alone and you ignore the appreciative smile that creeps across his face.

You put on some gloves and unzip the GSW bag.

You toss the kit to him, “I need to cut open his shirt, while I do this I need you to find some clamps - they look kind of like scissors but they have curved tips that look like pliers, I’ll need to use them to get the bullet out. I’ll also need a lot of gauze, probably every bit that’s in that bag.”

“Yes ma’am,” he starts rummaging while you work at getting Minhos shirt off of him.

“Clamps,” you command and hold your bloody hand out, he places them in your palm, “Okay Minho, I think I can see the bullet, but this is going to hurt, okay?” you grimace and press your lips together tightly as you shove the clamp into the wound, the bullet is deep but retrievable and Minho is surprisingly still as you fiddle around his insides with metal.

“Got it,” you drop the clamps, “Gauze, all of it,” you instruct and the two additional men start handing you piece after piece as you shove it into the gunshot wound to stop the blood loss.

“There should be an ace bandage and some surgical tape in there, get them,” you continue directing and the men continue following orders. You bite off some tape and place it over the packed gauze, then wrap the bandage around his torso. Finally, you take a breath.

“He’ll need to be seen by a physician,” you sit back on your legs, “This is a very sloppy fix but it’s the best I can do in the back of a van. He needs antibiotics, and someone to unpack that gauze and inspect the area, probably stitch up the wound - but he should make it until you can find someone to do that. Do not leave the gauze in more than four hours, he’ll need to be seen before that but I’ve bought you time to find someone you can trust.”

“Thank you,” Hyunjin nods.

You crawl out of the van and he hands you your bag, but you shake your head, “Keep it, and you’re welcome.”

“We need to get out of here,” the other man, Jisung, says and Hyunjin nods.

“Get him seen immediately, don’t wait, there’s an emergency rural clinic in Nayeong, it’s about a two and a half hour drive but it’s a tiny, sleepy town where no one’s going to ask a lot of questions. Plus, if he hasn’t had his license revoked, the old doc that runs the clinic should be pretty easy to buy silence from, as long as he can get his liquor at the end of the day,” you share and Hwang Hyunjin smiles at you.

“What about your silence?” he asks, “Can that be bought?”

You shake your head, “I could get fired for what just happened, it breaks every protocol we have here, but I won’t say a word as long as you never come back to this hospital, I don’t want to see your face again, you hear me? Keep whatever dangerous shit you all are wrapped up in far away from here.”

“You got it Doll,” he smiles then slams the van door and slinks around to disappear into the passenger side.

You let out a shaky breath as you watch them drive off, realizing for the first time just how scared you’d been. You gather yourself for a moment then go back to your own car, you’ll go home and wash - no, burn - these scrubs that are now covered in blood, you’ll take a hot shower and you’ll go to sleep and forget about the three criminals you just assisted. In eleven hours you’ll have to be back here like it never happened.

The next morning, you should have seen it coming, should’ve known that there would be a man propped up against your car waiting for you. This time it’s Minho, the man you removed a bullet from. A small part of you is relieved to see he is up, standing, and looking decently okay though you can tell he’s sore by the way he stands with his hand pressed to his lower left side. The rest of you however, is just plain mad.

“I told you not to come back here,” you frown.

“Well, yes, but technically you were speaking to my guy,” he smirks.

“Oh, well I am so sorry for the confusion,” you roll your eyes, “but I meant all of you need to stay far, far away. Now, leave me alone before I get into actual trouble.”

“I only wanted to say thank you-,”

“You’re welcome!” you snap, “Now leave.”

“I like you,” he sucks at his lip and grins with amusement, “I wasn’t sure, but you have quite a bite to you, and now I’m certain.”

“What are you rambling about?”

“I’d like to offer you a job.”

You snort, “Not interested.”

He moves his arm and slides an envelope out from underneath his jacket then hands it to you, “Reconsider.”

You open the flap and peer inside. Money. Several stacks of money. In fact, you’ve never seen this much cash in person in your entire life. It makes your mouth go dry and you quickly close the flap and tightly clutch the envelope in your fists.

“What the Hell?” you seethe.

“That’s just my payment for yesterday, a simple Thank You. However, if you agree to come work for me, I can guarantee that kind of money regularly and promise that you’ll never want for anything ever again.”

You look at the envelope then back at him.

“I’m not a criminal,” you say.

“I’m not asking you to be a criminal, Kitten. I’m asking you to continue what you already do, just at a much higher pay rate,” he smiles.

“And what else?” you raise a brow, “Because if memory serves me right, when you make a deal with the Devil it always comes with a price.”

He shrugs, “All I’d ask of you in return is your silence, to keep what you hear and see a secret. To be someone I can trust, that’s all.”

You shake your head, “I have a job, I don’t need your money,” you extend the envelope back to him.

“Liar.”

“Pardon me?”

“You need that money, ___. You have over eighty thousand in student loan debt, you’re behind on nearly all of your utility payments, if you’re late one more time with rent your landlord has threatened to evict you, and no offense but this car looks like it’s one winter away from completely breaking down.”

“How the Hell do you know all that?” you fume.

“I always do background checks on my employees,” he smiles. “I’m not going to sit here and force you into anything, but I cannot tell you how beneficial it would be for me to have a medical professional on standby. It would help protect my guys tremendously.”

“I’m just a nurse,” you tell him, “I’m not a surgeon or anything like that. I don’t know how useful I can be for you.”

“Why underestimate yourself, Kitten? You saved my life yesterday morning, you knew exactly what to do, and the only reason you sent us to the rural clinic is because you didn’t have the resources to finish the job. I can get you those resources, I can get you anything you ask for.”

“How much are we talking, pay scale I mean?” you ask, curiosity getting the better of you.

“You’ll get a black card with your name on it and unlimited credit, I’ll place you in one of my safe houses on the edge of the city, a beautiful home in an expensive neighborhood, I’ll also give you a car - you can select it or I can take a wild guess at what you like - and I’ll pay out your lease, your student loans, your utilities and get all your affairs taken care of for you so all you have to do is give the hospital notice and show up at this address when you’re ready,” he hands you a piece of paper with an address scribbled on it.

“Just like that? I agree to work for you, I quit my job, and you just make all my problems go away?”

“Just like that.”

“Do you do bad things?” you look at him, “I need to know.”

He takes a calm breath and nods, “Yes. I do bad things.”

“Like what?” you wonder.

“I work in certain…legal gray areas…but I’m afraid if you want to know the details then you’ll have to agree to our arrangement first,” he explains.

“If I decide I don’t like it? What happens to me then?”

“We’d have to cross that bridge when we come to it, Kitten.”

Great, how very reassuring.

“If I say no?”

“Then you say no, you can keep that envelope of cash and put it toward your debt, and you’ll never see me again.”

You can’t quite explain why the thought of never seeing him again is disappointing. All he wants is for you to nurse wounds. He’s not asking you to do anything you wouldn’t be doing anyway. Yet a heavy feeling sinks into your stomach, like perhaps this is all a mistake. You choose to ignore it though.

“Okay,” you nod.

He raises a brow, “Okay…what?”

“I’ll work for you.”

“You don’t want to think about it?” he grins.

“If I think about it I’ll decline,” you shrug, “I’ll call my supervisor when I get home, she should be settling into her office by the time I get there. I’ll be at this address tomorrow morning at 9am.”

“Wow. I did not think it would be that easy,” he laughs.

“I’m not a bad person, I don’t do bad things, but I’m tired of living the way I have been,” you admit.

“I know you’re not a bad person, I knew that the second you crawled into that van yesterday,” he agrees. “But good, I’m glad you accepted. I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

“I’m kind of scared of you,” you call to him as he trots off.

He turns, a smile on his face, “You kind of should be, Kitten.”

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

“Any word yet?” you walk into the living room where Christopher paces back and forth.

“Nothing yet,” he shakes his head, looking at his phone for good measure.

It’s nearly 1:30am. Minho, Hyunjin and the rest left around nine o’clock. Four and a half hours of radio silence. Four and a half hours of not knowing if they’re okay.

You sit in the arm chair, the same one Minho sat in the night he watched Hyunjin fuck you on the couch. The corners of your lips twitch into a tiny, satisfied smile but soon turn back into a frown, will he ever sit in this chair again? You screw your eyes shut and try to destroy that thought, cast it out of your head and burn it with fire.

The time seems to pass at an alarmingly and unnaturally slow pace. You just sit, silently listening to the ticking of the wall clock, occasionally watching Christopher pace, then sit and rub his legs with his palms, only to stand up and start pacing again. You get it, so you don’t scold him, but it is grating on your nerves.

“Should we call someone?” you ask, knowing what the answer is but hoping Christopher is worried enough to break the rules.

“No, if we call in the middle of something we compromise everything. We wait, someone will call when there’s something to call about,” he says.

You nod, accepting, but hating this answer.

“What if it was a trap? Or what if the police got them? Or…”

“Stop it ___. You’re not helping anything,” he huffs.

“It’s been almost six hours now,” you point out, trying to keep your bottom lip from trembling, fighting back tears.

“I know but we can’t-,”

Christophers voice is cut off by tires squealing into the driveway. You get up and practically sprint to the front door before Chris pulls you back, his weapon drawn just in case.

You wait eagerly, listening to the sound of car doors slamming and quick footsteps, your skin practically vibrates with nauseous anticipation.

Minho bursts through the door first, he blows right past Christopher and rushes you, his arms coming around you tightly. You’re about to ask where Hyunjin is but you see him follow close behind, greeting you the same way and the three of you stand there in an embrace for a few moments.

“Is everything…” you trail off, not sure what to ask first.

“Everything is fine now baby,” he tilts your chin up and kisses your lips.

“Everyone made it out?” you continue.

“Everyone made it out, not a scratch,” he grins, and you think you might see happy tears glossing his eyes.

“Just like that?” you say, practically in disbelief.

“Just like that.”

“Taehyung is ruined,” Hyunjin grins, lighting a cigarette and opening a nearby window, “We got our guns back, his heroin is burning even as we speak and if that wasn’t enough, just like our warehouse explosion attracted investigators, his will too, except this time they’ll find the remnants of so much heroin that all eyes will shift to Taehyung, no one will give a flying fuck about us, at least for a long time.”

“Is Taehyung…dead?” you wonder.

“No,” Minho shakes his head, “but I bet he wishes he was, and that’s good enough for me.”

“He won’t retaliate?” you don’t believe that someone like Taehyung would just roll over and take it.

“I don’t see how he could,” Minho shakes his head, “The bastard is going to have to go into hiding, if he even so much as walks into daylight investigators will be on him so fast he’ll be in a prison cell by the time he draws a breath.”

“So, it’s just…over?”

“For now, yes. It’s over. Kim Taehyung loses.”

Something doesn’t feel right, but you decide not to worry about it. Everyone seems so celebratory, opening bottles of expensive liquor and laughing. A win is a win, and they desperately needed a win.

You spectate for a while, smiling at the ease and happiness in the room. You feel a sense of pride, which is something you’d never imagine yourself feeling for these men. You retreat upstairs, tired from worrying and coming down from the adrenaline rush.

You’re not necessarily surprised when you hear Hyunjin slip into the bedroom and you watch in the darkness as he strips himself of his clothes and slides in with you, his body pressing against yours, his hands sliding underneath your tee shirt, palming one of your breasts.

“I love you,” he whispers against your mouth, rolling you onto your back so he can fit his fingers snugly against your cunt. You moan into his mouth as he pushes into you, twisting and pushing you to pleasure.

“I love you too,” you say, taking his face between your hands, you throw your leg over his hip to give him better access.

The door opens again and Minho stares through the darkness.

“Well, I feel left out,” he huffs playfully, locking the door behind him. He begins to remove his clothes as he walks around to slide into the other side of the bed.

“Just a warm up Boss,” Hyunjin whispers, leaning over you to capture Minhos mouth with his own.

The warmth you feel in your heart, in your very bones is like nothing you could ever experience anywhere else. Safe between them both, surrounded by passion and love and heat.

“Fuck me,” you rasp against Minhos mouth and he slides between your legs, granting your wish while Hyunjin worships your sensitive nipples.

“I love you,” you whisper, “I love you both so much, fuck,” you moan.

The danger is gone, and the three of you relish in the relief until the sky turns a light gray color, taking turns touching and kissing and fucking, cat napping between. It’s perfect, you think, everything is perfect now.

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

“Fuck me, has anyone heard from Kim Seungmin for Gods sake?” Minho grumbles loudly as he walks through the kitchen.

“I think he’s been holed up with that girl he met,” Hyunjin answers, setting his pencil down on top of his sketchpad.

“What girl?”

“Who knows, with Seungmin it’s a new girl every month,” Hyunjin chuckles, “Why? What’s got your panties in such a twist?”

“He and Jisung are supposed to be delivering the guns to the Min organization in one hour and he’s not answering his fucking phone,” Minho explains.

“Get Felix to go, or Christopher - it’s high time he starts doing a bit more than just driving everyone around, let Seungmin have his fun,” Hyunjin waves him off.

“He really does need all the sex he can get,” you laugh, “the man is a total ass most of the time, anything to soften that blow.”

“You two are making me soft, I swear to God,” Minho complains, “but fine. Chris can help with the delivery and Seungmin can continue getting his dick wet to spare us all of his nasty attitude.”

“What time do we need to be at the Park meeting?” Hyunjin asks.

“We should have left twenty minutes ago,” Minho sighs, “Will you be alright? Here alone?” he looks at you.

“Yes, I need to organize some things, and I’ll probably just take a bubble bath and go to bed scrolling through baby registry items,” you smile.

It’s been over a month since anyone heard from Kim Taehyung, with most believing he fled the country to avoid detection from investigators. His name and footage of his warehouse burning had been on the news for weeks, but no information had turned up. Kim Taehyung isn’t coming back anytime soon.

“Okay, our phones will be on silent during the meeting, but text us as soon as you lay down, alright Love?” Minho kisses your cheek and you nod.

“I will, I love you both, be careful.”

Hyunjin kisses the top of your head, “Always Doll.”

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

You’re scrolling through Pinterest for nursery ideas when your screen is interrupted by a text.

Hurt bad, need help at the old warehouse -KSM

You narrow your eyes, opening the number and pressing the call button. It rings, rings and rings until you get to the voicemail. Kim Seungmin. You know what to do. BEEP.

“Hey, what’s going on? Call me back…”

You hang up the phone and wait. Five minutes turns into ten minutes turns into fifteen. You’re starting to get nervous when your phone pings with another message.

It’s not safe to talk. I’m at the warehouse and need help. I can’t move myself.

Your brows furrow and you shake your head. Seungmin knows better than this, and you think he must be really fucked up if he’s asking this of you.

You open up the message again, On my way.

You get dressed and grab a bag, stuffing random supplies in.

Before you go you call Minho, it goes to voicemail, which is probably a good thing because he might actually kill you for doing what you’re about to do but something in your gut is telling you that Seungmin needs you. So you leave him a message telling him what happened and where you’re going. For good measure you leave Hyunjin a voicemail too. Then you load up the car and start driving.

Seungmins truck is parked in front of the burnt and disheveled remains of the warehouse. The drivers side door is open, the interior light is on and you can see blood spatter all over the inside of the door. Your skin erupts in chills and you scream when your phone starts ringing. Minho.

“Hello?” you answer breathlessly.

“Where the fuck are you? And you better not say at that fucking warehouse!” Minhos voice is angry.

“I am,” you answer softly, still staring at Seungmins truck.

“Fuck!” Minho yells into the phone.

“Baby somethings wrong,” you say.

“What? Is Seungmin there with you?” his voice is suddenly laced with fear under all that steely ice.

“His truck is here, but I don’t see him, I just pulled up,” you answer, “I think he’s inside, but there’s blood all over the inside of his truck,” you tell him.

“Do not go into that building, do you hear me? Hyunjin and I are on our way, for fucks sake please baby don’t go inside without us,” he pleads.

“I need to find Seungmin,” you say defiantly, “Something is clearly wrong.”

“No!” he bellows, “Do not go in there without backup. Do you hear me? ___?”

“I hear you!” you finally yell back and hang up the phone. “But just because I heard you doesn’t mean I have to listen,” you whisper. You toss your phone into the passenger seat and grab your first aid bag, slinging it over your shoulder as you approach the broken and tattered entrance.

“Seungmin?” you look around at the burnt debris. Why the fuck would he come here? It’s an utter mess.

“Seungmin! Where are you?” you hiss into the darkness.

You hear a gargled cough from another room and follow it, your blood pressure steadily rising. Something isn’t right.

When you enter the room you can smell the blood. You scan the room twice before you see it, the lump of a body laying in the far corner.

“Oh my god…”

You rush to him, falling to your knees, your bag thumping on the ground next to you. He’s been shot, multiple times, a pool of blood underneath him. He’s pale, God he’s so pale.

“Seun…Seungmin?” you tap the side of his face, tears stinging your eyes. His lids slowly open and he looks up at you. Something changes, you see fear.

“No…” he shakes his head back and forth, which seems to expend all of his energy, “Why did you come…why did…” he coughs again, bright red blood sputtering from his mouth, hitting your tee shirt and your arms.

“Oh God, Seungmin, what did they do?” you look at his abdomen, his chest - riddled with bullet wounds. Your blood runs absolutely cold, your very spirit leaves your soul.

You cannot fix this. No one could.

“Am I?” he looks up at you. Am I going to die? That’s what he’s asking, and yes, he is. You clench your jaw to stop yourself from crying. Don’t cry.

You smile, lean down and smooth his hair off his forehead, “No. You’re fine, you’re going to be just fine Seungmin. Soon you and I will be bickering over something or another,” you laugh, continuing to pet his hair with your fingers.

He nods, but his eyes scrunch up and tears flood down the sides of his face, into his hairline. He doesn’t believe you, they never do, but he’ll play along to make it easier, and that’s what you’re here for now.

“You know,” you say, twirling his hair, “Minho and Hyunjin make a good team, but he was wrong about one thing,” you smile, “Hyunjin isn’t the best he’s got, you are. You’re the best soldier Minho has, and he’s hard on you because he knows it’s true.”

“No….shit…” Seungmin chuckles, and so do you. You stretch your tee shirt out to wipe the blood that seeped from his mouth from his efforts.

“They’ll be here soon, okay? Can you wait with me?” you ask softly.

At this Seungmin becomes alarmed, his eyes widening and head shaking back and forth frantically.

“Hey, calm down, be still…”

“Get out…you have to…not alone…” he rasps, his words garbled from blood.

“Seungmin…you’re not alone honey, you’re not alone, shhh,” you soothe.

He shakes his head again and tries to say the words, he tries so hard and you wait, you will his lips to speak, but instead the light fades from his eyes and his body goes still.

“Seungmin?”

You sit there for several seconds silently, your fingers still smoothing his hair, and then you sob. You press your forehead against his and sob, scream, and cry until your whole body hurts.

“I’m sorry,” you wail, your body heaving with cries. “I’m so sorry!” and you’re not sure if you’re sorry because you couldn’t save him, sorry because of the way you’ve spoken to him in the past, or sorry that any of this ever happened at all.

“___?”

Minhos voice is shaky as you look up from Seungmins lifeless body.

“Hyunjin is doing a perimeter-,” Minho takes a step forward but stops when he sees Seungmin laying there. He covers his mouth and he turns his body away as if he can’t bear to look, then he turns around again rushing over and dropping to his knees.

“Fuck,” Minho gasps, he strokes Seungmins face with the back of his trembling fingers, grabs Seungmins hand in his. “Fuck…” he sobs.

“I couldn’t…” you cry, unable to finish the sentence. “Minho I’m sorry.”

“You will be.”

The voice doesn’t belong to Minho, and before you can really process this fact, someone is pulling you up off the floor by your hair.

The smell of burnt ashes, wet cigarettes and pathetic overwhelms your nostrils nearly to the point of gagging.

Kim Taehyung. Seungmin wasn’t trying to tell you he didn’t want to be alone, he was trying to tell you that the two of you were not alone. You suspect it also wasn’t Seungmin who texted you. You’ve been baited and you walked right into the trap.

Minho is up like a shot, the gun he keeps strapped to his ankle pointed at Taehyung.

“Nu-uh-uh,” you hear Taehyung growl, feel the cold hard metal of a gun barrel flush against your temple. “Set it down or I swear to God the last thing I do is blow this bitches brains all over the place,” he tells Minho and you choke out another sob. “Set it down!” he yells, the very walls reverberating from his anger.

Minho grimaces, but bends over to set the pistol on the ground.

“Kick it across the room,” Taehyung continues, “NOW!”

Angry, Minho kicks the pistol and the three of you watch it spin over the concrete floor across the space.

“What are you doing Taehyung? What do you want? It’s over,” Minho lifts his hands up.

“It is,” Taehyung spits, “It is over. It’s over for me, but I don’t care.”

“Clearly,” Minho seethes.

“One thing I’m better at than you Lee is taking,” Taehyung chuckles darkly, “You take things, my Heroin for example, and that’s good, good job, but I take your fucking life, no…I take your fucking will to live. Just like with Seola, except this time you get to watch.”

Taehyung cocks the gun against your head and you shudder.

“I’m pregnant!” you scream in a last ditch effort to find a shred of humanity inside this monster.

“Oh yeah?” Taehyung rasps against your ear, “Congratulations.”

He drags the barrel of the gun from your head, down between your shoulders, and stops at the small of your back, “Maybe let’s blow your belly out first then?”

“Jesus fucking Christ Taehyung!” Minho screams, “Just kill me.”

Your head snaps up to look at Minho and you can feel Taehyung smiling with glee.

“Kill me you fucking pathetic piece of shit! That’s your end goal, always has been, so just fucking do it you worthless son of a bitch! I’m so fucking tired of this…”

“Stop!” you cry.

“I want you to suffer,” Taehyung growls, you can feel his head shaking back and forth, “I want you to watch her die and know that it never would’ve happened if you’d left her alone, that it’s because of you she’s standing in this fucking room!”

“I love you baby, I love you Lee Minho,” you cry, looking at him.

“Say goodbye to her Minho, say it,” Taehyung urges.

“I don’t fucking think so!”

Hyunjin yells from the doorway, loaded gun pointed in your direction.

Too many things happen at once. You can hear gunshots going off like firecrackers, you hear Minho scream something so loudly it somehow overpowers the crack of bullets flying. You end up on your knees with your hands over your ears until you see the gun Taehyung was holding drop beside you on the ground. You risk permanent deafness pulling your hands away to scramble for it and you get it, snatching it from Taehyungs reach a mere half second before his fingers land.

You have no time to think about Hyunjins training session at the gun range, you point the barrel at Taehyungs face and pull the trigger. You can feel warm, wet pieces of matter that you refuse to look at or acknowledge hit the front of your body and you don’t need to look twice to know Taehyung is gone.

Taking the gun you scramble over, falling several times because you can’t seem to control your body anymore, towards Hyunjin and Minho. The smell of flesh and gunpowder and death everywhere.

Hyunjin sits on his knees, his body trembles, pupils so blown out he looks like he’s on drugs, “He saved me…he saved me…stupid mother fucker…stupid…” Hyunjins face distorts into a look of such pain that there are no words to describe it, and then he screams.

“No, no, no,” you shake your head and leap onto Minho, who is being too still, turning him over from his side to his back. Just like Seungmin, Minhos chest is riddled with bullets, one right through his heart.

“No. No, he’s got a vest. He’s got a vest…” you start ripping off his shirt, already soaked with blood, it coats your fingers causing them to slip over the smooth buttons. “No, no, no.”

“There wasn’t time…” Hyunjin chokes. “We didn’t have time he said…there’s no time…”

You press your fingers against his neck and feel no pulse, then against his wrist…still nothing.

“Wake up baby, wake up,” you beg, you smack his face and shake his shoulders, “WAKE THE FUCK UP!!” you scream so loud it rips your throat to shreds. “Please!”

The life is gone from his eyes as they stare at nothing and you start to lose it. You can’t breathe, and all you can do is whimper.

“He jumped in front of me,” Hyunjin repeats, sobbing as he grabs Minhos face in his hands. “Why would you do that…stupid…” he cries, his tears dripping off of his own face onto Minhos.

“Call an ambulance,” you command through gritted teeth, you get up on your knees and press the heel of your palm into his chest and pump.

“Baby…” Hyunjin sobs.

“Call a fucking ambulance!” you scream hoarsely, counting time in your head. You ignore the sinking feeling you’ve had so many times as a nurse, ignore the fact that if you were in the ER right now, looking at anyone other than someone you love, you’d be waiting for the physician to call the time. You ignore everything.

“He’s gone ___,” Hyunjin cries, placing his hand over yours.

“No!” you scream.

You didn’t get tricked into coming here. You didn’t just sit with Seungmin while he died. You didn’t just blow Kim Taehyungs face off and Minho isn’t dead.

You repeat it over and over.

“He’s gone,” Hyunjin says, crawling over to you, “He’s gone.”

You scream into Hyunjins chest as your body shudders with sobs.

He’s gone.

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

“Come on hun, you two need to get out of here.”

It’s Felix. You look up into his big eyes, swollen and red with his own tears.

You look down, Hyunjin lays next to Minho quietly sobbing into the floor.

“We need to get you out of here sweetheart,” Felix places his hand on your shoulder but you push it off slowly with your fingers.

“Please,” Felix sniffles, “We’ve got to get everyone out of here,” he looks around and shudders with new tears, “all of you.”

You crawl across the floor, through the blood, and lean over Minho. You pick the weight of his arm up, cup his hand to your face and lean into it like you do so often. The lack of warmth from his skin brings on a new set of painful sobs.

“I love you,” you whimper. “I don’t want to go anywhere, not without you.”

“Get them out,” Changbin tells Felix and the others, trying to steady his voice, “Get them home. Pick them up if you have to.”

You can feel Felix look at you but he decides to try his luck with Hyunjin instead. Instead it’s Christopher who kneels in front of you, wipes his nose with the back of his arm.

“Come on, it’s time,” he tucks his arm under your knees and braces your back while he lifts you up.

“I couldn’t save him,” you weep into the crook of his neck.

“You were never going to save him sweetheart, he never wanted to be saved.”

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

“Miss ___?”

Through the blur of people you look up to see Kim Namjoon approaching you. You sip your water, wishing it was whiskey, but you’re still pregnant despite your mind, body and spirit being completely broken. Somehow the baby made it through the trauma and it’s your job to take care of him. Him. You can’t really say how you know, but you do.

“Mr. Kim, thank you for coming,” you force a smile, smoothing out the skirt of your black dress.

“Of course,” Namjoon clears his throat, “Lee was a friend, I’m so sorry that we’ve lost him.”

Lost isn’t good enough, you think. Lost things can be found. What you feel is so much greater than loss, you feel erased. Annihilated. You feel nothing.

“Uh,” Mr. Kim sits in the chair next to you and you realize you’ve been silent for several moments, “Minho asked me to give you this, he left it to you.”

He pulls a white envelope from the inside of his jacket and hands it to you. It feels heavy in your hands and you look at Namjoon with confusion.

“We weren’t married, I’m not owed anything,” you glance over at Changbin and the rest of Minhos loyal men, “whatever he’s left should be divided between them.”

“No you misunderstand, this isn’t something he gave to me as a client to a lawyer, it’s not a will. This is something he gave to me as a friend and asked me to hold it for safekeeping, but to make sure you received it if anything were to happen to him.”

“What is it?” you ask, running your fingertip over the edges of the envelope.

“I don’t know,” Namjoon shrugs, “He didn’t tell me to look at it, just told me to keep it safe for you. There’s something heavy in it though, a trinket or something? I’m not sure.”

Namjoon stands and gives you a sympathetic smile, “I’m truly sorry, he loved you very much Miss ___, I hope you knew that.”

“I did,” you say but the words get lost on your lips, turning into a raspy whisper as your throat begins to swell with a sob, “Excuse me.”

You clutch the envelope to your chest and retreat from the room, briefly making eye contact with Hyunjin, who is about as sociable at this funeral as you are, which is to say not at all. You can feel him following close behind.

“You okay?” he asks when you end up in an empty sitting area near the back of the funeral parlor.

“No,” you cover your mouth with your hand to stifle your cries.

Hyunjin wraps his arms around you, a gesture that used to put you at total ease, but now it feels lacking, like Minho was a necessary piece to a three part puzzle. A piece that’s been destroyed so the puzzle can never really be whole again.

“I don’t know what to do,” Hyunjin says with no explanation, and you don’t know what exactly he means by it. He doesn’t know what to do with you? With himself? Or what to do about anything at all? Same, you think.

“I miss him too much,” you cry into his shoulder. None of this feels real.

“I know,” Hyunjin chokes on a sob, “I know baby, me too.”

The envelope, still clutched to your chest crunches between the two of you.

“What is that?” he sniffs, looking at the paper.

“I don’t know, Namjoon said Minho wanted me to have it in case…well…”

You sit on a chair and push your finger under the flap, ripping the paper.

A key falls out of the envelope into your hand as you pluck a letter out.

Hey Kitten,

You promised you’d keep Scotland in the back of your mind, right? I don’t want to go anywhere without you either, but just in case we do have to be apart, I want to know that you, Hyunjin, and our baby are all safe. If you’re reading this, I guess it means I can’t come with you, but you deserve to start over, you all deserve to live a normal life without safe houses, without guns or makeshift surgery centers. So go. Start over. I’m so sorry that I was broken when we met, but you patched me up baby, and I love you so much. Tell Hyunjin to take care of you, to keep drawing in that stupid book of his, and that I love him too. When the baby is old enough, tell them about me, okay? Tell them I loved them with my whole heart, and I’m sorry I can’t be there.

All my love,

Minho

“Scotland,” you whisper and hold the key over your heart.

“What?” Hyunjin looks at you bewildered, “What is all this?”

You wipe the tears off your cheeks, “It’s Minho. Keeping us safe one last time.”

Endnotes:

1. I cried writing the first draft of this ngl and kinda hated myself, then by like my third or fourth proof read I was like desensitized to it kinda? Anywho. I hope no one is legitimately angry with me😬😓 I promise this was my plan from the start and not a wild card draw. One more chapter left💙

2. Will tag my besties in the comments!! Here’s a virtual kiss 😘 and maybe also a virtual warm hug and sympathetic pat on the back? 🫂🫂🫂

#skz fanfiction #hyunjin fanfiction #lee minho fanfiction #skz smut #hyunjin smut #Lee know smut #skz romance #lee know romance #hyunjin romance #hwang hyunjin #Lee Minho #skz x reader

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penelopesbaby · 2 days ago

Text

2 person house party

Being disgusting at karaoke with Elias

It was one of those things that you're not really sure how it happened. At first Elias just recommended that they put on music while cleaning the safe house, which then quickly turned into a single along.

At some point it switched to full karaoke, and after ditching the brooms and the dusters for remote controls and wooden spoons, barista and Elias both found themselves belting every song that popped up on the TV. Every voice crack was ignored, every wrong pitch was left unnoticed. The two could hardly hear each other over the sound of their own screaming.

After a while and after the screaming died down, the two of them looked around to see the living room a complete utter mess again. And you would think the whole point of putting on music to clean would be to help you focus, right? Instead, all of the singing turned into dancing performances and jumping on the couch, causing ANOTHER big mess that Elias and barista needed to clean.

"Wasn't the purpose of the music to help us get this done faster..?" Elias questions while picking back up the discarded broom off the floor.

Barista picks up their wash cloth before responding, "Uhm.. Maybe? I feel like we kinda just made a bigger mess..."

"Well..." He starts, "Since there's still a mess, and since we both know I killed it at karaoke, maybe we should just wait to clean up the mess after a round of karaoke battle?"

Barista stops and looks up at him, a smug look coating his face while he crosses him arms.

"You want to battle me at karaoke? Do you know how hard this is gonna hit your ego?" The smug look Elias wore now displayed on barista face, as they discarded the wash cloth to the floor and moved back over to the TV.

"Oh, trust me. You couldn't bruise my ego if you tried." He smirks.

It seems he was wrong though, because the thousand more points barista gained from singing song after song was, at the least, humbling.

"There's no way.." Elias whines looking at the scoreboard after the last song, and obviously, barista had won by a long shot.

"See I told you! I knew you were gonna sulk in your loss, you crybaby!" They laugh out. "Ughhh yeah yeah get your laughs in, but later when I load up the play station you're not gonna be laughing."

"Well maybe I’m laughing because after that attempt at a high note somehow you lost points."

"The game is rigged!" He throws his hands up before covering his laugh. "Are you sure it's rigged or are you just really bad at?" "It's rigged."

"Yeah okay, sure." Barista jokes before looking around at the new now bigger mess in the living room.

"So... should we clean this now orr..." They ask.

"Yeah.. Yeah we should.." Elias answers while picking up his discarded broom.

"Try not to trip over the coffee table this time." Barista responds, walking back over to where they were cleaning before.

"That was your fault! You were distracting me!" "Whatever your'e such a liar!"

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

me when I don't know how to end a fic

ik it was rly short I'm like just getting back into writinggg...sigh....

#zsakuva #sakuverse #asmr roleplay #zsakuva elias #Elias #elias x reader #zsakuva eliasxreader #shit wrting #I'm sleepy #its 2am #please don't judge me

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savanir · 2 hours ago

Text

Death of the Father, Death of the Son

Part 3

prev and OG prompt

Dick was just about finished with his preparations in the Batjet when one of his brothers barged in and dumped some of their stuff inside as well.

“I’m coming with you” Tim straps down the case he brought and plants his ass in the copilot seat.

Dick looks at him with a slight frown, “Tim…”

“no I want to see the murder scenes with my own eyes and it’s good for you to have some backup-”

“I’ll be just fine on my own babybird-”

“-cause we don’t know if this is just one assassin or a whole organization”

“ok. and now you can tell me the real reason you want to come along”

Tim gives Dick a side-eye before slumping down“... Alf has been talking with Bruce about me needing fresh air again and I rather do that preemptively and on my own terms so you’re just gonna have to accept you’re stuck with me on this one now”

Dick sighs, and ruffles Tim’s hair before strapping himself in the pilot seat and ignoring the indignant squawk from his brother, “sure, fine, Oracle we’re heading out now”

“have a safe trip Nightwing”

and they are off

—✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*---*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧—

Amity Park is about what they expected, outwardly nothing remarkable, somewhat sleepy. But upon closer inspection the signs of multiple battles are quite clear.

Though apparently it’s been quite a while now since the last “ghost” battle. There is a lot of speculation as to why among the town folks which could be important to look into some other time, but for now the boys put a pin in it and get to breaking and entering the old Fenton household for their investigation.

Things seem to be normal inside the house but… ahem, well...

Tim inspects all the strange tech that looks just haphazardly slapped on the walls with a critical eye while Dick lifts one of the family photos to have a better look.

“looks like a normal average american household to me, even with mom and dad preferring to wear hazmat suits everywhere apparently” there really aren’t any pictures where they aren’t wearing the orange and teal suits. Madeline Fenton wasn’t wearing one at the Gala though, she looks a lot more comfortable in these pictures.

Dick looks around some more, “is it just me or does this place just feel… depressing?”

“yeah no I get what you mean, there is nobody here but I also feel a lot like I’m intruding” Tim hums, “more than normal that is”

“Red…”

Tim elects to ignore that tone of voice completely, “there is no way any of this stuff is even remotely up to code” he then peeks at the picture as well, he of course already knew what the murdered father and missing son looked like, he’s done his homework, but this is a casual happy family picture, that always drives home the fact that these were- are real people.

but how did they all get dragged into this situation, this mess that is slowly turning into something a lot more complicated… maybe… well that’s why he’s here. To figure it out.

The stairs that lead to the basement lab are in the kitchen for some reason, and once down there they both need a moment to take the whole place in.

The entire house is rather abandoned but this place looks as if it hasn't been touched since the police did their own investigation.

There is some tape and markers that were left behind but overall it looks a lot like a hurricane went through it, exploded, and then everything got covered in a fine layer of dust.

Tim opens the case he brought with him and begins setting up the holo scanners to make a copy of the whole place that they’ll be able to project in the batcave later, in case they miss something now.

It's only after that’s done that they start to have a look themselves.

“Even this badly wrecked it definitely looks like some sort of evil lair” Tim mutters as he inspects the nearest vaguely firearm shaped object, or maybe it’s a hair blower he’s not sure, it’s got Fenton Works™ stamped on it though.

“is that a portal” Dick meant it as a question but it ends up sounding like a statement.

It gets Tim’s attention though, “I… maybe?” it kinda looks like one potentially, busted up to hell though.

Dick carefully approaches it but doesn’t for a second think about going in there,“Mostly looks like a hole in the wall now though, I’m not going in there to check with all those wires on the ground, talk about a trip hazard. Not to mention the threat of electrocution, has nobody here heard about cable management?!”

“where is your sense of adventure Wingster, besides I am pretty sure this place is cut off from electricity now”

“yeah, I’m not taking the risk with sketchy evil lair portals today”

Dick lets Tim do his own detective work while he takes out a little device Batman made to alert him to Deadman. He figures it would be interesting to get a read on the place and see if it's really ghosts that have been causing a mess in Amity Park or if it is something else that just appears paranormal.

The ecto-detection goes completely wild however. “Alright well… uhh”

"What's that?”

“I was just curious if something occult was going on around here what with everyone blaming the past attacks on ghosts and thinking that whatever happened here probably has something to do with them as well… but I'll be honest, Boston never registered anywhere near this high. And it's just - everywhere”

“So any further investigation into Amity Park itself is gonna have to be done by Dark?”

“probably” though Tim is also fully planning on doing a full investigation himself.

Either way, they put a pin in that too.

They have a good look at the areas where bullets made an impact, scorch marks and the broken examination tables. They are about done when Tim asks if it would be worth it to break into the local police department and have a lot at (steal) whatever evidence they might still have on the case.

They could have something useful, unless it is who Dick really hopes it’s not.

They leave the basement and are greeted with the sight of two teens in the kitchen.

hm…

Dick decides to just go with a cheery hello,

“Holy shit it’s Nightwing and Red Robin!” Tucker basically has stars in his eyes.

“After the message we got from Jazz I kinda expected the big bat”

“That's not true, you said after all this time you didn’t think they were actually gonna come at all- ow!” Sam doesn’t hesitate to hit him in the shoulder.

“Didn't think we'd show up” Tim says.

“Well am I wrong?” Sam sneers, “the only reason you guys are here is cause it’s a Gotham thing now. Otherwise someone actually competent would have looked into this months ago”

Tucker shrugs sheepishly and looks a little pained, “perhaps we shouldn't antagonize the Justice League heroes?”

Sam looks about ready to start hissing, it reminds Tim somewhat of the demon brat when he's particularly upset. “whatever” she says.

Tucker now has a strained smile, “uh, if you guys were wondering how we knew you were in here, that's because Jazz asked us to keep an eye on the place”

they tripped an alarm? how… Everything in here is cut off and disabled. some sort of battery based system maybe? but they would have surely picked up on that…

Dick figures he might as well just go ahead and ask some questions so he takes a seat and the other two follow suit more at ease than the two birds expected. Tim decides to wander a bit more around the kitchen. Maybe there is something he missed here.

“so, I'm just gonna go out on a limb here and assume that you two also think Daniel-”

“Danny” Sam corrects immediatly

“-yes Danny, you two also think he's still alive?”

The question is immediately answered by a, “yes” and a, “he is”

“Jazz also seemed very certain of this despite the fact that a body was found. what makes you all so sure?”

Sam looks ready to spring into another tirade, Dick is starting to suspect that she has a serious issue with ‘not being taken seriously’

“Jazz told you guys already about the clone thing right? just go to Vlad's estate and it's all there in his evil basement laboratory”

“and we also know someone who can check deaths through occult stuff, and they confirmed that he has not… you know, crossed over”

“occult like magic?”

“or something, they were never wrong before. we do realize this isn't hard evidence obviously but they are a friend and not the type to just tell us what we want to hear” this is the easiest way to explain that they got in contact with the ghosts to have them look through the realms for Danny.

“I'd like to speak with-”

“that's gonna be hard, they don't show up with all the government people crawling about”

“so that individual with proof cannot be reached so we can’t verify their claims”

“nope”

unfortunate, but they did already say it wasn't hard evidence. It seems that these two aren’t going to budge on it which seems a little odd to Dick, there are known magic users in the League. Someone being able to check into the afterlife or whatever to see if someone is truly dead isn’t completely out of left field, it should be fine to meet with that person and at least hear them out… so why are ‘’government people’’ an issue? are they possibly wanted for some crime? oh well…

“when we went to them it was mostly just to know. you know? like… mr. Fenton got murdered and Danny went missing, and nobody knew anything or could find anything. Everyone suspected ghosts of course. and we just wanted to know if our best friend was dead or not, if searching was even worth it”

“and now the fruitloop got assassinated. to us it basically also confirms it you know. he's still alive, and it would absolutely be best to shut up the one guy who knows about the whole thing”

But why smear Masters? Why not do it quietly? And what makes Daniel so special?

Tim just knows he's going to end up with more sleepless nights because of this.

In the end the two teens aren’t actually all that cooperative. It seems they actually have mostly shown up to check what was going on inside the Fenton household, Tim and Dick decide not to push them too much then and there, figuring they could visit Master’s estate first, verify the clone allegations, and after that get back to these two, perhaps when they get more intel and have something more substantial to work these then Sam and Tucker will be a bit more forthcoming as well.

Only time will tell.

—✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*---*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧—

Slade had to go on some solo mission and at this point he's okay with leaving the boys to handle themselves, Danny eagerly takes the opportunity to do his own thing.

Aka, going after politicians to get the acts repealed. Making deals with the ones who value their lives and can see a good opportunity when they are presented with one and getting his name out there. If he’s an actual threat people will be forced to listen.

This day though he lands a hit that the supers in Metropolis somehow know about…

someone somewhere snitched, or… they are compromised. A worry for later.

"Memento Mori, they say you're trained by the Deathstroke and that you have an absolute success rate. And that you only kill your target and no one else on one of your assignments... but today all of it is coming to an end because with my tactile telekinesis I-"

"If I had known that all I had to do to meet a real life alien was to act up a little I would have gone down this road a lot sooner" Danny leans against the AC unit on top of the apartment building they are currently on.

Kon splutters, "what?"

"Alright, okay, clone of an alien, which to me is still basically the same thing. Very cool, honestly, if you ask me, even better"

Kon puffs up, "well I am pretty awesome if I say so myself"

"Absolutely, out of this world some would say"

Kon snorts, then remembers what's actually going on here, "are you trying to distract me?"

"Maybe? Is it working?" Kon pouts and makes a so-so gesture. "I do mean it though. You're easily in my top five favorite aliens"

Kon blushes quite prettily "Uhm, well I... oh wait aliens? Not heroes?"

"Ah, yeah well about that, I guess I'm not a fan of that? Especially not currently. What with you being in my way and all that"

"Oh so if I were to politely ask to not kill the lady"

"Yeah I'm still gonna do that, sorry"

Kon sighs, "well in that case I'll-"

He promptly gets knocked back by an impressive punch to the face. Mostly stunned by the fact that it properly hurts and then realizing Danny can move at all.

"You got distracted" and gives him a wink.

Kon rubs his jaw, "Oh you think you're cute"

"not just cute, I am adorable" and Kon just knows this smug bastard is grinning at him under the mask he can’t see through.

He really wishes he didn't have a thing for dark haired spunky dangerous people.

"... it- it doesn't matter, even with your freaky assassin skills there is no way-"

"You're a bit of a terrible match up against me though, no offense" Danny is trying to not overuse his abilities. He doesn't want the justice league to know about all of them. but it'll turn into a messy and long fight where neither come out on top if he sticks with the regular stuff. And that would allow backup to arrive and make things even more complicated...

"Damn... I just don't have time for this"

Kon makes sure he's prepared to intercept anything Danny might throw at him now.

"If you go invisible I'll just follow the sound of your heartbeat"

"Oh" Danny turns his heart off. He can't do that indefinitely while in human form though, but this will do for this fight. "How about now"

"What the-? Are you alright!?"

"Awww you’re worried? That's sweet. Supersweet one could say," Danny turns invisible, "you should really be more worried about yourself though Superboy"

Kon tries if he can keep visual with his X-ray vision, he thinks about trying to do a sweep for even the slightest disturbance with his TTK field when a freezing cold shiver shoots up his spine.

There is a moment of silence where nothing and nobody moves and then Kon can hear Superman in the distance.

"Kon! What's going on!"

"That little- he slipped away!"

"That's unfortunate... meet up with Kara at Miss Holloway’s location. Together we'll be able to stop him there"

"No I think I can-" Kon tries to argue

"Superboy" superman sounds stern

"... fine, I'm going"

Kon makes a direct beeline for the target location and a grin can't help but spread over his face. He pushes his sunglasses up a bit more to hide the glowing green eyes.

Now that he got to this point he’s getting back to wondering who tipped the supers off though. Having to switch to plan B was rather annoying.

And he still absolutely doesn't like overshadowing people but what can you do… mission first, personal and ethical little hang ups second.

Superboy went under so smoothly though, Danny wondered why that was until he did a careful skim of the surface and sensed the roiling self hatred. He suspects that'll do it.

Danny feels sorta bad though, Superboy really is up there in his list of coolest things this world has to offer. He'll have to make it up to him after this is all over somehow. In a way that won’t compromise himself, and also avoid the old man knowing.

It's then that he realizes he's arrived at the target location, it's showtime!

"Here I am"

Kara gives him a wave and he smoothly touches down, it really is a good thing he already knows how to fly and stuff, makes the whole pretending to be a Kryptonian thing a bit easier. "Got away huh?"

He huffs, "he can just turn his heartbeat off, how was I supposed to know that?"

"Deathstroke's protégé's are on a different level for sure. But even they have a limit"

Right... sure... underestimate him, very smart...

Not that he can really blame them. They probably think he's a baseline human with maybe some meta abilities or just a new upgraded Ikon suit.

"Can I see the tip off?

"Again? Sure. Though I doubt you'll see anything in it that we haven't seen yet. Oracle is trying to trace it but..."

"Hm, what if..." yeah some of this was very familiar, "what if it's Deathstroke and he's treating this whole thing as a screwed up training exercise?"

"That... I sure hope not"

"He's insane enough for that though"

"I hate that you could be right"

The silence stretches.

"Are you alright Kon?"

Danny startles a little, "Yeah! I'm just, frustrated"

"Ah, don't worry. With the three of us standing ready it'll be fine. We'll catch him" she presses her fist in her open palm.

Danny feels a careful smile spread on Kon's face.

"Hey, you check up on the lady and I'll make it look like I'm not involved in all this. Kal is close by and after that we'll try that thing with you spreading your TTK field super far"

Using Superboy's ability as a net? Interesting. "Gotcha"

Supergirl nods and then takes off and Danny figures he might as well just get this whole thing over with now.

The lady is right there, she barely acknowledges him when he politely greets her. Rude…

And then he snaps her neck.

—✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*---*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧—

"Youuuu" Danny storms up to Slade with vicious green overtaking his usual blue, “you fucking motherf-”

"Boy-"

"Don't you boy me. You sabotaged my assignment!"

"False accusations?"

Danny gives him a look that screams ‘are you for real…’ "Of course I took a moment to investigate. I had to know if we had a leak. But you tipping off the supers you absolute-"

Slade nods, satisfied that Danny looked into the matter, "You were fine, you need to be challenged to learn how to adapt to any situation. The moment things become complicated you resort to your abilities"

"Get off it old man I'm only half human of course I'm using my damn abilities, they are a fucking part of me! You though- You're the biggest dick in the universe and-"

Any civilized conversation quickly ends after that as it gradually devolves into a physical fight.

"Bastard" Danny mutters as he focuses his healing to fix his black eye first.

"Cool down brat” Slade says, looking no worse for wear, “We'll go over the whole thing in more depth later" and the veteran assassin leaves the room.

Danny fumes as he handles his patch up himself. While doing so he allows himself a moment of self loathing.

He hates that he's making progress getting the ecto acts removed. "working" with the people who are happily removing the thing and getting rid of those that ignorantly want to keep it in place.

He hates that the G.I.W are easier to handle with his new skillset.

He really hates how easy this is getting.

And he really really hates how there was zero hesitation to overshadow Superboy and use him.

He can't wait till this is over, one way or another.

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