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fleurhcss · 10 months ago

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˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ 𝐈 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐂𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 - Hyunjin x FEM Reader!

cw : photographer Hyunjin, needs a muse, reader and him will meet in his exhibition, blood, murder, nudes, sculpture classes, dead body tw, if you are sensible pls don't interact, MDNI. SENSITIVE CONTENT!

sw : blood kink, hair pulling, degradation, unprotected sex, creampie, rough sex, anal, oral (both receiving), riding, humping, teasing, touching, masturbation, blowjob, marks, biting, choke kink, they'll have sex covered in blood.

wc : 9.025

synopsis : Hyunjin's a photographer and meets reader at his own exhibition. He falls in love with her beauty and the way she talks about art, so he proposes to her to attend his sculpture classes and then, after some of them, to be his model for a nude photography project, which will lead them to have sex. One day, she arrives before the appointment and begins to explore his study, finding a cupboard where he keeps all the heads of the girls he has seduced before her. But she's not afraid, she's excited. After a few minutes he shows up, catching her in the moment and she tells him her little dark secret, so they set up a murder and then fuck in the bloody mess.

a/n : hii... that's the first time for me writing here and writing in English so PLS im sorry if there are some errors!! I hope u enjoy this anyway 🎀🎀 I opened a ko-fi account, i will post there some stories and drawings, if you want to support me i will be grateful to anyone who wants to give me tips, ITS NOT OBLIGATORY

MASTERLIST

[ SMUT / TW ]

You have always been an art lover, which has led you to visit many exhibitions over the years. Photography and sculpture were your favourite subjects, and you have lost count of the number of exhibitions you have visited in your lifetime. However, it was a bit of a contradiction that art was not what you studied. You were a student of anatomy at university, which of course helped you to understand the human forms you so admired and loved to create. Although your studies were far from your true passion, you couldn't help but attend the private lessons that were often advertised in flyers around the city. That year alone, you attended no less than five classes, loving the way your hands shaped the clay beneath them. Its softness, the way it escaped your touch when wet: it was smooth, soft, elusive and malleable. Almost unpredictable, one might add. Once, because of a few air bubbles, you had to redo your work because it had burst in the kiln. Yes, one of the great faults of clay was its ability to burst if it was not perfectly formed. You were like clay, unpredictable. But you also loved the unpredictability of a photograph, the immediacy of a shot. The reality it represented. It was no coincidence that these were your favourite subjects.

You were walking around, sipping your caramel milkshake, after a long and tiring day at university. The music was on your mind, you imagined yourself in the scenarios that the soundtrack was transporting through your ears, but nothing could have distracted you from the sight of a giant billboard announcing a photography exhibition that weekend: The Art of the Body. This particular billboard had caught your attention not only because of the type of photography on display - nude exhibitions were rare in your town these days, too much of a scandal for the citizens. You were different, you appreciated every single muscle, every single feature of the human body. - But also for the way in which that body, unclothed, had been immortalised. Enclosed in a net that did not completely cover it, the woman's features were fully visible; she looked almost like a sculpture because of the contrast between light and dark.

You were enraptured by the image, your thoughts had clouded your mind, you had barely paid attention to the name of the photographer who was going to present this exhibition. But you didn't care, the subject matter was already of great interest to you. Nude photography by those who could not understand or feel it was considered almost scandalous. You found it a contradiction because very often the same people who criticised this kind of photography were the first to admire sculptures of the calibre and genre of Michelangelo's David, who, by the way, was naked.

For you, this kind of photograph was just like a sculpture. But warm, soft, even more real and expressive. You were sure that you would love that kind.

When you got back to your flat, the first thing you did was take a shower. It was the most plausible option after a long and tiring day, not least because you would have to clean up the mess left in your kitchen. In fact, by the time you found yourself having to clean it up, you were starting to get bored, so television would have been a good idea for entertainment at a time when all you wanted to do was sleep. You watched the news, and once again the topic of the day was the countless missing girls in your area. You wondered what was going on and why so many girls had mysteriously disappeared in a matter of days. There were no traces of mysterious serial killers, or even traces and statements from the victims themselves, if there were any. They had not been seen with anyone, nor had anyone talked about them. They had nothing in common. Or at least the police had not been good enough to find out. Well, in fact, the police had failed miserably from the start with the story of these girls' disappearance.

After all, there were no traces of the girls, and you had to clean up quickly because of the stench that was starting to fill the room.

⋆˚✿˖° 𐙚 ₊ ⊹ ♡

Finally, the long-awaited day of the exhibition had arrived, and you were excited just to think that you would be able to see such works live, even more so if they were all close to the one on the poster that had caught your eye. You were well dressed for the occasion, you wanted to make yourself presentable. You were also excited to meet the artist. You hadn't read the name, you weren't even interested in meeting him, but as the days went by, your curiosity grew and you did some research to find out who the man was: he was a young man - well, very young - his name was Hwang Hyunjin, a photographer and professor of sculpture. You were very interested in that because those were your two favourite subjects. So you had to admit that you had made yourself beautiful in order to look like that in the eyes of such a man. Also because you had seen pictures of him on some magazine covers and on the Internet, and you had noticed that he was indeed a handsome man. Maybe even more than handsome. He himself seemed to be part of a collection of sculptures.

His features were delicate but masculine, his body seemed well proportioned and he was tall and lean. He had dark, feline eyes and lips that were sure to drive all the women who had ever met him crazy.

You took one last look at yourself in the mirror and, after spraying on your ever-present perfume, you left the house, heading for the exhibition. It was Saturday night, the streets of your city were crowded, kids ready to go to some club, men with wives were ready to go to dinner. Saturday night chaos was, as always, inevitable.

You found yourself having to turn down your best friend's invitation to some club just to go to this exhibition. But she understood, she knew how much you loved art and you hadn't missed a single one of these exhibitions that came to your town every year. It was true, you had never missed one. Once you even got a cold and covered yourself well with a huge scarf and a heavy coat. Unlike the way you were dressed today. A tight black dress that stopped at mid-thigh, a long black coat, your beloved lace-up boots and a chignon that gathered your hair delicately. You were truly charming.

When you arrived at the exhibition, you immediately took a glass of red wine that was offered to every visitor. You were enchanted by the splendour that surrounded you. Photographs of all kinds: coloured, black and white, bodies covered in nets, naked bodies, bodies covered in liquids - water, blood - lying in the soil , all one with nature. But the photograph that struck you the most was of a body whose head could not be seen and it was crushed below the knees, while a long stream of blood was falling on it. It was strange, the photo was in white and black, well contrasted, sharp, but the blood had not lost its colour: warm red, carmine. You could feel its density, its fluidity, through the photograph. It had given you goosebumps.

A warm, but not too deep voice distracted you from your thoughts.

«This painting is called Passion's Flood.»

You turned to see the boy you had been searching for, for the past two days, and your mouth almost fell open.

His beauty was even more ethereal in person. The complexion of his skin was almost golden, and those eyes seemed to bore into you. The articles were not wrong, this was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. He was elegant, refined, attractive. You didn't even know what adjective to use to describe him, to do justice to such beauty. You were so dazzled that you almost forgot everything you wanted to say to this man.

«Why this name? More to the point, why the adjective 'passion'?» you said as soon as you awoke from your almost trance-like state. The words slipped from your tongue, as did your curiosity as to the real reason for this choice.

It was strange to hear that such an image had been given such a name. You were curious about the definition of 'passion' for this man. Why it was associated with the image of blood. That rich red liquid dripping onto a naked body, accentuating the shape of the woman portrayed. This made the man behind you smile. He approached you and studied you carefully. He examined you from top to bottom. From head to toe. It was inevitable that he would find you a beautiful, attractive, girl. He bit his lower lip and glanced at the work in front of you, then shifted his gaze back to the subject of his interest: you.

«Interesting question, I see you also pay a lot of attention to the names of the works.» your eyes were fixed on his lips, watching them move at the sound of his voice. How he licked them and made them shine. Perfectly swollen and red. Watching him had become more interesting than watching his work. «Inevitably, the intrinsic meaning of the work itself could be understood from the name, but it is interesting how you used the adjective 'passion' to describe a body covered in blood. The work itself is interesting, it is rare to see something like this in an exhibition. You have a fascinating mind, Mr. Hwang.»

This only inflated the ego of the man at your side, who wasted no time in positioning himself in front of his own work. He flashed a smug, satisfied smile, interested in how your mind was working at that moment. He could not stop the instinct, the primal instinct, that inevitably drew him to you. He licked his lips for the umpteenth time and crossed his arms over his chest, allowing the fabric of the jacket he was wearing to fit better over the obviously defined muscles. «Call me by my name. I don't think there's much of an age difference. In any case, the definition of 'Passion Flood' in this case refers to the fact that passion can flare up in any way, at any time. The association with blood is not only because it automatically brings to mind a warm colour, such as bright red, but also because passion flows in our veins, in our blood. The blood itself evokes the heat, the impact, the sensation that passion can give us. A unique adrenaline rush. For few.» you were enchanted by the way his mind worked, the man was a genius.

Not only was he good at shootings, but the way he spoke to you, the tone of his voice, was like a mermaid to a sailor. He would lure you out to sea and then grab you by the tail. His piercing gaze was as if he wanted to trap you and drag you down with him.

«Your definition of passion is interesting, Hyunjin. I can also say that this definition fits perfectly with the way you create your works. If I may say so, this photograph is extraordinary, perhaps one of the best in this exhibition so far. After all, passion is what you do. Photography is in your blood, it is your passion. Art itself, right? Looking at this photograph, I can see the body of the liquid, the vivid colour and the contrast with the chiaroscuro of the body. I can see the softness of the flesh, its silkiness.» When you stopped talking, the man in front of you licked his lips, pleasantly pleased with what your mind could conceive in terms of art.

«Your mind fascinates me, ...?» he paused, clearly inviting you to tell him your name. You felt the blood boiling in your veins, a heat permeating your body. As if him had set it on fire. «Y/N,» you whispered, once again entranced by his beauty. You were sure he had bewitched you somehow. His charm was beyond anything else. Hwang Hyunjin was not just an artist, he was art itself.

«Do you also work in the field of art?» he asked, moving dangerously close to your body. Your mind went blank, he was far too close. You could not say a word. He was like a magnet, the closer he came, the closer you wanted to be. It was crazy how a man could have such an effect on you, who had always declared yourself a woman who would not be intimidated or subjugated by men. But with Hwang Hyunjin it was different. You were under his spell and would let him do anything to you just to feel him near you.

«I take anatomy classes, but in my spare time I take classes in photography and sculpture. Let's say they are my biggest passions», you could see his eyes light up when you said this. That was his moment. Hyunjin could not fail to use this moment to invite you to one of his classes. Yes, among the thousands of things Hwang did, there were also private lessons in sculpture and photography. And you could not help but be delighted, your heart almost leaping out of your chest. The one and only, the magnetic Hwang Hyunjin had personally asked you to join his sculpture class.

As he walked towards you, your bodies colliding, you found yourself squeezing your legs together, you felt a jolt penetrate your intimacy. His lips came to your earlobe and caressed it, «I expect to see you there, Y/N».

Needless to say, when you left that night, all you could think about was Hyunjin's pointed hands running over your body.

⋆˚✿˖° 𐙚 ₊ ⊹ ♡

It had been a really tough week at university, you had to dissect several bodies and your placement was about to start. You were going to be a trainee in a forensic laboratory, so your lectures were now harder and the level of attention they demanded was higher. However, the thought of attending evening classes that Friday, taught by Hyunjin - the man who had been on your mind for the past week - helped you relax.

Your best friend was aware of the little fixation you had developed with the man and often used it to tease you. When you told her you were going to meet him in class that evening, she made so many dirty jokes that you wondered if it was still her. But other girls had disappeared in those days and she didn't want you to be one of them. So she was worried. As you prepared to go to class, she had given you more advice than your mother had given you in your entire life. In fact, you felt like a daughter, a little girl to her. It was obvious that you would be careful, you wanted to return home safely.

So you prepared and made yourself beautiful, just to impress the man of your thoughts, and then you left the house, leaving a trail of fruity perfume behind you. That evening, even though the occasion was nothing more than a sculpture class, you had dressed well. You had on a light sweater that left a strip of your belly uncovered, burgundy with vertical stripes of fabric. Loose, baggy jeans below your navel and flats that matched the colour of your shirt. But the breeze that had risen that evening had forced you to put on your beloved leather jacket.

Your hair was loose, falling over your shoulders as one hand held the strap of the bag tightly. You were eager to see how Hyunjin taught during his lessons, eager to see those hands you dreamed of every night on you, running over the fresh clay, shaping it, imagining it to be your body. You were curious to see what this evening would bring, whether it would be as interesting as you thought it would be, or whether it would be a total disappointment.

Arriving at the location indicated on the flyer Hyunjin had given you, your eyes met the moment you crossed the threshold of the hall. He stood out like a marble statue, his hair tied back in a ponytail, a black t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up and baggy jeans covering a pair of brown and white Nikes on his feet. The piercing in his eyebrow made his gaze at you even more captivating. You entered, bowed and took your seat. They weren't all taken yet, surely he hadn't started because he was expecting a few more people to attend the class.

Behind him were blocks of clay and a table with all sorts of tools and materials for modelling. You assumed that he would be distributing these materials to the students himself, and were not at all surprised to find that most of them were women who were just as interested in the art as they were in the man who was going to teach it to them.

Your gazes were chained as if nothing could break it, it was only interrupted when Hyunjin realised that the hall was now full and it was time to start the lesson. He stood in the middle of the hall with a smile on his face, he was really handsome. He managed to be delicate and attractive at the same time. You were sure that this boy would not be easy to get out of your mind. It was clear that you wanted him more than you thought. «Welcome everyone, this is the first lesson of this course where we will cover the basics and modelling with clay. I have some tools here with me, after I give you a general introduction to the subject, I will hand them out to all of you, along with a lump of clay, so that we can begin the actual course.»

Needless to say, you lost focus after his introduction, too focused on watching his lips move and the vein in his neck throb. You watched his movements carefully, the way the fabric of his shirt occasionally allowed a glimpse of the hollow of his v-zone, the way the material of his jeans clung perfectly to his slender thighs. The man was a dream, and yet he looked like a demon disguised as an angel. His elegant, almost princely movements had managed to hypnotise you. You felt your body go numb and shot through with a long series of electric shocks, all of which landed in your stomach. The sexual tension you felt when standing next to Hyunjin was now sky-high.

It was Hyunjin himself who distracted you from your unchaste thoughts about him. He placed a series of objects on your bench and winked and smiled at you. That made you glow red, and not just on your cheeks. You felt a pleasant warmth spreading through your body and you weren't sure what it would lead to. Certainly nothing good in the state you were in now. «Good to see you here, Y/N.» he whispered in your ear, making you blush again. You lost your words.

As Hyunjin took his place behind a table with all the materials needed to mould the clay, it was fascinating to watch how his wet hands began to caress the block, softening it. Kneading, massaging the malleable material. But the thing that took your breath away again was the way his eyes locked on you as he spoke. As he explained how to handle the clay, as he squeezed it, as he moulded it in his hands, his gaze was fixed on you. You squeezed your legs together, and you were sure he noticed because of the smirk in his eyes. This made you even more embarrassed.

You watched as his tapered fingers created shapes, sweeping over the material, smeared with clay, to shape it to his liking. You wished you were that lump of clay. You wished he would touch you the way he did with that slippery material.

As you began to shape the clay yourself, you hardly thought about Hyunjin's fingers caressing you as you wished. Your mind was lost in the farthest reaches of your thoughts as you concentrated on shaping the lump. You hadn't even noticed Hyunjin watching your hands move as you did with his. His gaze devoured your body and hinted at what was going on in his mind. He was curious how those skilful hands would move around his member. It made him quite aroused, but he could not afford to have an erection in the middle of class by having unchaste thoughts about you.

As the classroom began to empty, the teacher greeted everyone politely and took the opportunity to approach you, who had not noticed anything, still lost in your world and the little statue you were forging. He positioned himself behind you as soon as the last student had left the room, and began to stroke your arms and blow on your neck. It was what brought your head back down to earth. You bit your lower lip as his hands moulded the clay with yours and his warm body clung to yours.

You found yourself gasping as his lips touched your lobe again. This boy would be the end of you, you were sure of it.

«You know, I noticed how your legs tightened at the sound of my voice. I also noticed your eyes burning into my form as I gave this lecture. I'm very curious to know what fantasies are running through your head, little Y/N,» he giggled, then washed his hands in the next sink and invited you to join him. And once again you were hypnotised, enchanted by his voice and his touch. When he took you by the hips, placed you on the only clean counter and spread your legs, you couldn't help but gasp. Words were dead in your throat now, you looked at him with bated breath and all you wanted to do was sink his face between your thighs. «Look what we have here, - he said, stroking your intimacy from above the fabric of your jeans, which he could feel were already wet, - there's no need for you to hide now. I got you,» he whispered again against your neck.

«Hyunjin... Please,» you murmured, your thoughts now clouded by the pleasure of his touch. «What? Tell me what you want,» he taunted you again. Your hand moved to his wrist and pushed it towards the crotch of your jeans. That drove him crazier than you thought.

He unbuttoned your jeans and pulled them down to your knees, his gaze resting on the crotch of your now wet panties. You felt no shame, the only thing running through your body now was the adrenaline of being fucked by this man. Your rational part had been switched off by the only one part that had to take over. «Look at you, I haven't even touched you properly and you're already all wet, you little whore. For now you'll be satisfied with what I'm going to give you tonight, if you're good enough you'll get another prize after this one,» your head had fallen back and your back was now arched. It was only with his words that he had been able to bring you to this state. Giggling, he moved the fabric of your panties with two fingers, the same ones that slowly began to massage your walls, while his eyes carefully scanned every corner of your body. You were going crazy, you wanted more and your grip on his wrist let him know it. «Look at you, so needy for my touch. I have a crazy idea that you can't refuse. I need this favour. No one inspires me, attracts me like you do. Be my muse and let me photograph this beautiful, unclothed body,» he whispered into your ear, pushing his fingers further between your pussy lips.

He did not penetrate you, but you were sure that only with this type of touch you could come. You nodded, reeling from the spell he had cast on you, and he smiled, pleased at the state you were in. He moved closer to you, not a kiss, just a bite on your lower lip and one in the hollow of your neck. Which made you quite dizzy with the sensation of his fingers now moving in a circular motion over your intimacy.

«Very good, Princess. Now why don't you cum for me? Like a good girl,» he whispered and began to move his fingers at a speed you didn't think possible. But your mind was clouded and you needed to feel under your hands how much he needed your touch too, so with a grin you grabbed the crotch of his trousers and began to move your hand up and down, feeling how great his length was. But there was no pleasure in doing this from above his jeans, so you inserted your hand into the fabric and with quick movements began to masturbate his intimacy. His moans were satisfying and made your head spin, you were almost in the same state. He growled, moving quickly on your vagina as you did with his member, now a moaning mess, playing with the tip of his member, stimulating it.

It was obvious that after a few minutes you would cum in each other's hands with a loud orgasm, and you did. You screamed her name as her teeth sank into the hollow of your neck, biting it. «I have no class on Tuesday, come here, to this address, my long awaited project will finally come to life,» he whispered in your ear as he licked his fingers covered in your juices, just as you licked yours, soiled with his.

⋆˚✿˖° 𐙚 ₊ ⊹ ♡

To say that you had been thinking about what had happened with Hyunjin all weekend was an understatement. The boy hadn't left your mind for a second, nor had the feeling of his fingers over your intimacy. You were constantly thinking about what you had done and the desire to go deeper was alive and growing inside you. It was obvious that you wanted to be fucked by him, so much so that you almost forgot your own name. When Hyunjin was in front of you, all rational thought went out the window. When he had asked you to be his muse, a warmth had grown in your chest and spread between your legs. You couldn't wait to pose naked for him. To let his hands move your body as he wished. Even at that moment, his hands were touching you in your mind, as you rubbed against the pillow in your room, with another news report of a missing girl in the background. But your mind was too busy thinking about Hyunjin to listen to how this girl, unlike the others, you had actually seen in the course of sculpting that the man you dreamed of every night was taking.

When you reached your orgasm, certainly not like you did with Hyunjin's hand, you decided it was the best to take a shower. The next day was the big day you had been looking forward to. You were going crazy. Your best friend had called you to find out the details, but you still hadn't told her what had happened between you and Hyunjin, you would when you maybe had sex fully. Also because that was what you had hoped for most. To hear how he wanted to fuck you. You giggled to hear how she imagined possible scenarios for your encounter, if only she knew how far you had already gone.

When the time and day finally came for you to meet Hyunjin for 'his long awaited project', you couldn't help but feel the shivers running through your body. You wore your hair in a slightly dishevelled bun, a tight black skirt covering you to mid-thigh and a slightly unbuttoned blouse with a burgundy lace-embroidered bra wrapped around your torso. Black boots on your feet and the usual leather jacket over your shoulders.

You gasped as Hyunjin's slim and elegant figure appeared behind you. He was wearing a blue silk shirt that showed his chest, tight black jeans and pointed ankle boots of the same colour. Sunglasses and a necklace surrounded the beauty already present in the man, and the loose hair falling down his neck made him even more attractive in your eyes.

His gaze gave you goosebumps; he approached you with an almost devilish smile and greeted you with a kiss on the lips. At that moment, you felt the ground give away beneath your feet. You looked at him as, smirking at the way he was making you feel, he opened the studio door and let you in first like a gentleman. «I see you've made yourself pretty for me, little Y/N. I like the way you're dressed, that bra fits you like a glove, it's a shame we have to take it off,» he whispered as he slowly removed your leather jacket and put his glasses elsewhere. His voice guided you, sending shivers down your spine. You noticed that all the materials he needed were already arranged in every corner of the studio and understood that he didn't want to waste any time in arranging what he needed. Kissing your neck, he began to remove your shirt, gently running his fingers down your arms and then your torso, then removing your bra as well, cupping your tits with his hands and massaging them, causing you to give a moan of pleasure that made you throw your head over one of his shoulders. «They are perfect, they have a wonderful texture, a perfect shape to be cupped by my hands,» he blew on your shoulder, biting it almost violently. But this action only made you moan even more.

Slowly he began to move his hands down, caressing the rest of your body, making you gasp as he pulled off your skirt and then slowly your panties. You were completely naked to his eyes this time. He bit his lip as he caressed every part of your body, from your breasts to your bottom, cupping and massaging one of your buttocks. «Like a good little girl, take off your shoes and lie down on this wooden hoop,» he said, and you obeyed. Without a word. You felt his eyes burning on you, like fire. You lay down in front of him and let him touch you in any way that would satisfy his desires. When he grabbed the camera, you squeezed your legs together, already feeling the effect of his intense gaze on you.

It made him laugh, but not in amusement. Not at all. It was almost diabolical. You saw how he approached you by getting on top of you and opening your legs, he began to watch how your pussy shrank around nothing, completely wet. This made him move his nose closer to it and blow on it. It had driven you so crazy that you not only let out a long moan, but arched your back so that your vagina was closer to his nose. And he grinned as he slipped two fingers inside you without warning, taking a picture just as your back arched again, your head fell back and your lips parted in a moan. « Very good baby, you are the perfect muse for this project. No one could have done as well as you,» he whispered as he pulled his fingers out from inside you and brought them to his lips, sucking away your juices.

You went crazy, your body was burning even though you were naked, craving his touch, his hands on you. Every time he approached to take your picture, you hoped he would touch you, something more than mere caresses. Even if they were not 'mere caresses'.

But when he put down his camera and caught up with you at a fast pace, you realised that maybe he didn't just want to take pictures. And in the end, that was what you were hoping for. He towered over you with his body, observing how perfect yours was. He caressed every part of you until he lowered himself to your lips and began a ravenous, passionate kiss. You moaned at the contact and his hands began to massage your breasts until, running out of air, he pulled away from your lips and then lowered himself to your breasts and sucked on them voraciously. Your head was elsewhere, you could do nothing but give way to his touch. Your hands were harpooned in his hair, pulling at it. Your legs tightened around his torso as his pelvis moved in search of yours. Hyunjin was mad. He could feel the blood boiling in his veins; he needed to release all the adrenaline coursing through his veins. «My bitch, that's what you are. Just fucking mine. And like a good girl you are going to feed me now,» he smiled almost maniacally as his face settled between your thighs. He had taken off his shirt and unbuttoned his jeans, which were now too tight to contain his obvious erection. You clutched his hair as he began to bite your inner thigh, leaving bite marks and bruises everywhere. But you didn't care, you just wanted to feel him between your legs.

Hyunjin began to take long laps on your cunt, spreading it with his fingers so that he could better slide his tongue between your walls. You were a whimpering mess, all too pleasurable. He sucked and moved his tongue voraciously, as if he really wanted to eat you. He pulled at the lips covering your clit with his teeth and then sucked on them almost violently. You felt your orgasm approaching, but you didn't want to come like that, you wanted him to fuck you. «Please Hyunjin...mh...stop...it's too much, I'm about to come...!» you gripped his hair in a vice grip. But that did not matter to him, if it meant making you cum several times in one evening, he would do it without fail.

His mouth was harpooned between your walls, his tongue moving as if he were kissing you and not what was between your legs. You were going out of your mind and the closer you came to orgasm the more he felt it and went fast. «Fuck Hyunjin!» you shouted before cumming all over his face. Which pleased him by the way. He licked his lips and without a second thought started to kiss you again, so much so that you could feel yourself on his tongue. But that was not enough, he wanted you. «I'm going to fuck you so hard you have no idea. Now behave as well as you have so far and suck me off,» he said as he removed the last of his clothes. Your eyes couldn't help but stare at his erection, certainly getting him all the way in your mouth would have been quite a challenge. You watched him ravenously, having dreamed of this moment for far too long. You began to slowly run your hand down the length of him, massaging his balls as well, you were slow, running your fingers along the veins and playing with his head. He looked exhausted to see you like that. His moans became louder. You smiled and took him in your mouth, all the way to his uvula. This made him tighten his grip on your hair, which was clenched in his hands. He pulled hard on them as he fucked your mouth. Your hands were tight on his thighs as you slid it over your tongue. You spit on the tip, then took it back into your mouth and ran your tongue along every vein. Concentrating especially on the tip. «You are fucking phenomenal. My good whore, keep it up, faster,» he said in a broken voice as he used his pelvis to push against your mouth.

It did not take many more thrusts before it poured into your mouth in hot streams. You stared at him intently as you swallowed the liquid. With a grin, now his umpteenth, he ran his thumb between your lips, cleaning them of his own seed and attacking them with an almost violent kiss. It was so quick that you didn't even notice when he slipped two fingers inside you and began to move them quickly as his member became erect again. Seeing you under him like that drove him crazy and he couldn't wait to fuck you the way he wanted to. He wrapped one hand around your neck, making you moan. You didn't know that these things could ever turn you on, but with Hyunjin, with his hands on your body, it was impossible not to. Soon his fingers became four inside you, and the way he twisted them inside you made you think he already knew what your walls looked like.

It was unexpected for you when you were turned over and positioned on all fours with him standing behind you, erupting like one of your many beloved sculptures. He rubbed his erect member against your entrance, making you shiver as only he could. «God, I can't wait to fuck you, if only you could see the way your butthole is clenching around nothing as I rub against you,» he grinned. But you could feel it, you could feel it all right. «P...lease put it in, I need it Hyunjin mmm - make it quick please, fuck m...e» by now you were beside yourself. Your brain was disconnected.

You heard him laugh, pleased that you felt so weak under his touch. But you couldn't help it; it was as if he had cast a spell on you.

Without a word, he thrust into you in one swift motion. You let out a moan, just as he had. He pushed your back down so that your face touched the floor. You were a fire, you felt your body burning and you just wanted more, more and more. «Fuck,» he shouted. He had your hair in his grip as he squeezed your buttocks and began to thrust into you. You felt the floor turn and collapse beneath your body. You felt full and also heard the sounds Hyunjin made. He growled as he thrust into you with dry, precise strokes. «You're so fucking tight and hot. I could come right now,» he growled thunderously. You couldn't answer, too busy enjoying the feel of his dick inside you. But you needed to feel him deeper, you wanted to feel all of him.

You moved your pelvis closer to his, driving him crazy, he bit his lip while you were a moaning mess, doing nothing but mumbling unrelated words to each other. You were going crazy, you wanted to feel him burning inside you, between your walls. «Fuck, yes, shit!» you heard him say as he held your pelvis tightly against his. The strokes were faster, you felt his cock touching your sensitive spot, stimulating it. You were sure it would not be long before you came. He pulled your hair hard towards him and with the hand holding your pelvis he began to push your body against his own, as if you were standing up. He tightened his free hand around your neck and you moaned at the lack of air.

«Plea...se Hyunjin... harder... faster... fuck the...re...» you said incoherently as he bit your neck, leaving an obvious signal. «Shut up, I decide.»

He whispered in your ear, then increased his thrusts. He forced you back onto the cold wood and you felt his body crush yours as he squeezed your neck and thrust into you at a relentless pace. It was impossible at this point not to let out a loud, high-pitched moan along with your humours.

«Very good, Princess. Now make me come, like a good girl,» he said, overstimulating you, by this time you had reached your limit, your body was weak. But the sound of his thrusts drove you even crazier. After a few final thrusts, you toothed in the hot, sticky fluid that filled your hole. You moaned along with him, riding out his orgasm as his seed dripped from your thighs. He growled and let go of you, kissing your shoulder.

You never expected him to clean you up by putting his tongue between your buttocks and licking away his own cum. This made you moan at his touch, causing him to giggle, which made his tongue vibrate inside your hole.

As he stood up and began to clean it up, including you, he leaned towards your face and blew on your lips, leaving a slow, passionate kiss. «I want you here this Friday, Y/N.»

⋆˚✿˖° 𐙚 ₊ ⊹ ♡

Days later, you were still thinking about the way Hyunjin had fucked you so well in the photo room. You couldn't get it out of your head. Even when you found yourself cleaning up the huge stinking mess you had made. That day you had made more of a mess than usual, you had to be more careful the next time.

When you had finished cleaning up the mess, you decided it would be better for you to eat: you had to cook lunch. The next day you were to meet the man who had been in your thoughts for two weeks. You couldn't think of anything else. Hyunjin really seemed to have cast a strange spell on you. But you didn't mind. Just like it hadn't bothered you to feel that his body was completely connected to yours.

After a quiet lunch you decided it would be best to organise your tools and materials, after this morning they were all in a mess and you hated mess. You had even left them out of storage the last time. So you stood patiently in front of your cupboard, arranging the duffel bag that you jealously guarded. Meanwhile, you wondered why the police still hadn't found anything about the girls. The number had increased enormously, and whoever was making them disappear had to be an expert to get away with it without leaving any evidence. You'd like to ask yourself who would ever be able to go unnoticed for almost twenty days while the police still hadn't found anything. After tidying up the mess you had made, you decided that it might be best to think about what to wear to meet Hyunjin tomorrow. You were extremely impatient.

⋆˚✿˖° 𐙚 ₊ ⊹ ♡

And there you were, in front of the usual studio. Where Hyunjin had arranged to meet you. You had dressed up, a black over the knee coat, your usual leather jacket, black boots and this time your long hair was over your shoulders. However, you noticed that the studio door was already open; maybe Hyunjin was already inside, just waiting for your arrival. You bit your lip, unsure what to do.

What would be wrong with going in?

So you did, but no one was there.

«Hyunjin?» you called, hoping that the man would appear before you. But curiosity got the better of you and you started walking around the studio, which was large but not too crowded. There were scattered tools, pieces of clay and photographic paper. But there was one thing that caught your eye. The door to a small room was half open, and from it came a strong smell that you knew too well. You were used to the smell. But you wondered why it was coming from the cupboard in Hyunjin's study and why you had never smelled it before, since you had been there twice before. So you went to the door, opened it and put your hand to your mouth.

You had just found the culprit behind the disappearance of so many girls in your town.

There were so many heads arranged in rows on tables, the blood had been cleaned off, but the skin looked intact, as if it had not decomposed. They looked like so many porcelain dolls. You started to get closer when you felt a presence behind you and your breath caught in your throat. «Someone found something they weren't supposed to see, don't you think, Princess?» you turned around so slowly that when you saw him covered in blood, an electric shock almost ran through your entire body.

But you were not afraid; your curiosity had overcome your fear.

«How did you make them so porcelain-like and not get caught?» you whispered as his body clung to yours, crushed against the wall. He chuckled, trying to see an edge of fear in your face. He was surprised to find none. That made you even more special and unique in his eyes. No one had ever been like you before. «Aren't you afraid? Ask me how I made them like this instead of running away and reporting me to the police,» he laughed. But you smiled, grabbed his hair and brought his face closer to yours. Lips on lips. «I'm not afraid. In fact, I'm curious. You made them look like so many disembodied dolls. Where did you throw their bodies without getting caught? It takes talent,» the answer made his eyes sparkle.

You were definitely different.

He grabbed you by the neck and tightened his grip. But you weren't afraid, you were sure he wouldn't hurt you. He was just angry because you made him feel different. Because it was you. You made him want you more than anything.

He slipped a hand under your dress, felt how wet the crotch of your panties was.

You giggled.

«You are different. You are not afraid. You're turned on by all of this, you sick little whore,» you laughed. At the top of your lungs. You pulled him closer with one leg and rubbed your pelvis against him, moaning. «I may have a dark little secret of my own, my dear Hyunjin. How about we take advantage of it?» you bit his lip. His head was spinning, he felt his hands burning. «First tell me about this dark little secret you little bitch,» you pressed your bodies together and felt yours almost catching fire, you wanted it. Again. At least you wanted him to make you come.

«Haven't you ever wondered why I take anatomy lessons when my passion is something else?» you giggled, leaving him confused. You were like him. «I love dissecting corpses even more when they are fresh and made by me, squeezing organs in my hands, and I would love to see them intact forever. Why don't you tell me your little secret? How do you make those heads like that?» you moaned under his touch, quickly rubbing your cunt against his thigh, wetting it. «You're fucking crazy,» he laughed maniacally and then began a fierce kiss, as if your bodies were about to catch fire. You continued to move on his thigh, moaning his name on your lips as you jerked him off over his trousers. All this was turning you on more than you thought. Your breath was short, you couldn't hold back any longer, so you let out a long moan, you on his leg and him in his trousers. It was fast but intense.

«How about cooperating, princess?» he laughed, still above you. «With great pleasure,» you whispered growling into his mouth.

⋆˚✿˖° 𐙚 ₊ ⊹ ♡

After that day, you invited Hyunjin to your house and showed him your collection. It was funny to see his surprised face. He never expected to see that side of you. That day, you orchestrated the perfect plan. Your victims had rarely been women, and his were all women. He also explained to you how he chose his victims, his modus operandi : he often went to this café frequented by students, and often heard these girls squawking like chickens and insulting art, a thing he revered. So did the woman's body. So why not get rid of them after seducing them and keep the body as a prize? It was a perfect idea in his mind. So he decided to prove it to you himself.

You stood at the table behind him and a certain Sasha, he had met her that morning when he brought you your coffee and decided that she would be the ideal victim. You watched as he tried to seduce her with a grin, running his hand down her back to her bottom. You bit your lip, a little jealous of the touch he was reserving for her.

When they got up, you followed them silently, already knowing where Hyunjin was taking her: at the back of his study was a large chamber where he carried out his murders and burned the remaining bodies: the clay oven, a very good idea, you thought.

Everything happened very quickly, the way he undressed her and she undressed him. You trembled. You hated to see the way the girl touched him. He was almost ready to fuck her when, with a wink, he moved you forward and handcuffed the girl's hands and feet. But she screamed in vain, the walls were soundproofed, Hyunjin really had thought of everything.

He took off your clothes, stroking your body, and put them aside with his own so they wouldn't get dirty. After all, it was impossible to remove blood stains from the fabrics. He bit your shoulder and patted your ass, then stood statuesque in front of the girl. You watched closely as he slit her throat with a sharp knife, splashing blood everywhere. And you flanked him as he opened her chest and began to harvest the organs that he would soon show you how to embalm. You loved it.

Soon a pool of blood spread beneath your bodies. You sat on his naked pelvis, as bloodied as he was. He brought the knife between your mouths and you did not hesitate a moment before licking the blood off the metal, crossing your tongue with Hyunjin's. His vermilion hands cupped your breasts, your thighs. Your body. You were the woman he adored. His muse. The half he shared his madness with. His illness. Your mouths met, you drew your lips together, biting your tongues. It was a fierce, ravenous, passionate kiss. Your intimacy rubbed against your naked pussy, wet and warm. You couldn't wait to fuck him. He bit your neck ravenously. As if he wanted to eat you. You loved the way he was so impetuous with you, so passionate. He drove you crazy. «How about we play a little princess?» he grinned, then put two fingers to your vagina and began to move them quickly. Your moans were disconnected and his lips were tight on your breasts, sucking on your nipples and pulling on them with his teeth. Your hands were harpooned in your hair, pulling at it. You definitely wanted more.

He entered you slowly, playing with your walls. As he licked the blood from your body. «Mhh, Hyunjin faster please,» you begged him, pressing your pelvis against his. You wanted more, you wanted him inside you. Your hand reached his intimacy and began to play with his glans, pressing your thumb on the tip so that he moaned. You loved seeing him like that under your touch, even more so when he was completely covered in blood. His hand reached your neck as you decided his fingers were not enough to satisfy you and stood up, sitting straight on his cock. This caused him to moan sharply. «Have a good ride, Hyunjinie,» you whispered in his ear. And he grinned. He took his fingers, smeared with blood and your fluids, into his mouth to lick it all off and then push it into your mouth, playing with your tongue as your walls adjusted to his thick length. You pulled your head back as he tired of waiting and gave a precise thrust inside you, gripping your neck tightly. You loved it when he did this. You began to jump up and down on his length, letting out moans that fortunately no one could hear thanks to the soundproof walls. Hyunjin bit his lip hard as you humped him. He loved the feeling of watching you riding him. He felt a unique warmth running through his body.

But he was tired; speed and strength were not enough for him. He made you lie down in that pool of blood, put his hands under your knees and bent your legs towards your breasts. He entered you with a precise thrust, as if he knew just the right spot to hit you, and your loud moaning let him know that was exactly where he needed to thrust. So with almost animal speed he resumed his thrusts inside you. He put your legs on his shoulders while he held your neck tightly with one hand and played with your clit quickly with the other. It drove you crazy. Your moans were now as uncontrollable as the times Hyunjin had cried out in pleasure. «Fuck Princess, how good you take me. Your pussy is perfect for me, so ,warm. You fucking hold me so well, you little whore,» he growled. You couldn't help but moan loudly at those words. You couldn't speak, every time you tried to say something the words died in your throat.

«I'm... coming... fucking H... Hyunjin for fuck's sake! Ther...e yeah!» you moaned one last time before tightening your warm walls around his cock. «Fuck I'm about to come too, squeeze me so fucking tight.» And he, now at the top of his lungs, poured hot streams into you, filling you. But he didn't come out; he decided to tear himself all over you as he filled you, letting his cum drip out of your cunt.

You stroked his long wet hair as he kissed your breasts. «You are mine forever, just know that,» he whispered, biting you. You giggled. «I wasn't planning on looking for anyone else after you, Hyunjin,» he smiled, then looked at you and licked a drop of blood that had fallen from your shoulder.

«I like you covered in blood.»

TAGLIST 🎀 : @gloomy-k @raindropsondragons @linocvp1d @iiamthedramaa @snowyquokka @pynchkilledme @y4kie @ihrtlix @sugarsweetsugarsweet @rylea08 @skzswife @hyunjinhoexxx @hyunjinnie2000 @boi-bi-ahaha @nanamongmong @yongbokkiesworld @hyunjinnnsgirl @reader1221

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blueiscoool · 6 months ago

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Archaeologists Unearth Remarkably Preserved Marble Statue of Hermes in Bulgaria

Archaeologists led by Prof. Dr. Ludmil Vagalinski have unearthed a remarkably well-preserved marble statue in the ancient city of Heraclea Sintika, near Petrich, Bulgaria. The discovery, announced by the municipality of Petrich, was found within the underground sewer known as "Cloaca Maxima". Efforts are underway to delicately excavate the statue without causing damage due to its exceptional state of preservation.

Standing over two meters tall, the statue is believed to depict Hermes, a prominent deity in the region during ancient times. Prof. Dr. Vagalinski, speaking to "Archaeologia Bulgarica," expressed cautious excitement about the find, noting its significance not only as the best-preserved statue discovered in Heraclea Sintika but also in all of Bulgaria. He suggests that the statue was likely buried by city inhabitants following a major earthquake in the 4th century AD, possibly to safeguard their religious heritage during the rise of Christianity.

Archaeologia Bulgarica shared updates on the excavation progress via Facebook, revealing that the statue, crafted from a single marble block in the 2nd century AD, remains partially encased in dirt. Archaeologists have noted its resemblance to other depictions of Hermes, placing it within a known iconographic type. Similar statues are rare globally, making this discovery particularly unique for Bulgaria.

Plans are underway to carefully extract the statue from the Cloaca Maxima and transport it to the museum in Petrich, where it will undergo necessary restoration before being displayed alongside other archaeological finds. Prof. Vagalinski emphasized the challenges of preserving the ancient city's structures, especially those located on private property, where permanent conservation measures are limited. He highlighted the unexpected nature of the discovery, which came to light during routine inspections of the canal's condition.

The excavation team, which first uncovered ancient structures in the area six years ago, had placed protective barriers to secure the site. Upon closer examination, marble remnants were noticed, leading to the gradual unveiling of the statue of Hermes. Work on fully exposing and documenting the statue will continue in the coming days, offering new insights into the religious and artistic practices of ancient Heraclea Sintika.

#Archaeologists Unearth Remarkably Preserved Marble Statue of Hermes in Bulgaria #ancient city of Heraclea Sintika #Petrich Bulgaria #Cloaca Maxima #marble #marble statue #ancient artifacts #archeology #archeolgst #history #history news #ancient history #ancient culture #ancient civilizations #roman history #roman empire #roman art #ancient art

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mistydeyes · 1 year ago

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141 boys and your oddly specific hobby

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summary: Most people have hobbies like drawing or bird watching, however, yours are more unique. Regardless of your odd interests, the 141 still loves you, their quirky significant other!

pairing: 141 x gn!Reader

warnings: swearing

a/n: By popular vote, this won so please enjoy :)

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

Price - matchbook collecting

When you first met Price, it was when you both dipped your hands into the matchbook jar. The jar sat at the host stand of a dive bar and you both happened to go for it at the same time. Although, you two had different motives. Him, because he forgot his lighter, and you, because you wanted to add something else to your collection. He wouldn’t pass up on a pretty face who he presumed also smoked, so he invited you for a light. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you were just a collector so you joined him outside.

What started as a quick smoke ended up being two hours of witty conversation. As your pleasantries turned into various topics and ramblings, you were glad you finished the cigar quickly, trying to emulate the mature man’s actions. He vaguely talked about his occupation, a high-ranking military man, and you talked about your non-comparable, boring civilian life. However as the late night hours slowly approached, you wrote your number on his matchbook and thanked him for the cigar and friendly chat.

On your next date, you revealed your odd hobby to Price. “I’ve been collecting them as a child. It’s like collecting snow globes from different destinations but much easier to display and transport,” you said as you both leisurely sipped your drinks. “And to think I thought you were out for a smoke, good thing I left my lighter that day, Love” he replied and gave you a subtle wink. You eventually showed him pictures of your growing collection, recounting where each one was from and showing him some of your favorites.

Soon everywhere he went, Price noticed the unique matchbooks. It started with pocketing a matchbox while he was in Amsterdam and grew slowly. Soon he would start a collection of his own, bringing them home to you with a story of where they each came from. After what seemed like 30 matchbooks in Price's collection, the 141 took notice. “Captain, you some pyromaniac or something,” Soap joked. “Just for my partner, weird collection of there’s” Price responded and no one questioned him further. Although, he still keeps the matchbook that has your number on it in his collection.

Soap - soap making

“You’re never gonna believe me, but I make soap as a side business.” Soap thought it was a joke at first, something to make him laugh when you first met. But when he entered your flat, he was shocked at how honest you were. Your walls were filled with shelves lined with every scent known to man along with hundreds of designed soaps. It smelled like a Lush store when he walked in and he marveled at your creations.

You watched him bask in the glory of the soap for a moment as you laughed heartily. "I told you so," you said as he went about sniffing each one and examining them. You organized them by scent and interrupted him as he approached the floral section. "Having fun there, Johnny?" you asked and he looked up at you as he held one of your rose-scented creations in his hand. "Can't believe this," he said and you smiled as he continued. Eventually, after he had smelt every single bar, you took him into a room where you were working on some new items for your fall collection.

"You have more!" he gasped and went to examine the bars of soap in their molds. "My Autumn collection," you said proudly, "here come smell this one." You led him to a table that housed an orange-hued soap slab with leaves delicately placed throughout the hardened bar. He held the slab in one hand and placed it up to his nose. His eyes lit up as a mix of cinnamon, nutmeg, and pumpkin filled his nostrils. "Smells like a pie," he joked and you showed him various others.

For his return from deployment, you had a surprise. You had spent weeks perfecting this formula and finally were satisfied. As you walked to his flat, you gently tugged on the striped ribbon that tied the parcel together. When he opened the door, he noticed the box in your hands and ushered you in. He excitedly tugged the ribbon off the box and opened it. He gasped when he saw two bars in the colors of the Scottish flag lying on a pile of recycled confetti. "What's this?" he asked and you motioned for him to turn the bars over and smell them. As his calloused hands turned the soft bar over, he noticed the packaging said "The Scotsman." He smiled widely as he placed them both up to his nose, taking in the smells of rain and pine. You swear you could see him tear up when he said, "Reminds me of my own home."

After this, he insisted you mass produce these bars of soap for his friends. You sheepishly did so and when you presented it to the other 141, Gaz loudly remarked, "He's finally done it, Soap is now a bar of soap."

Gaz - raising butterflies

He had heard about people having pets—even raising chickens but never butterflies. Your house was a sanctuary, filled with small enclosures of cocoons along with various flowers for your butterflies to suck nectar from. When he entered your house, it was like that scene where Alice first sees all the flowers in Wonderland. He felt like a child, seeing all the gorgeous wings floating around the room. He saw a delicately monarch land on a peony and approached it quietly.

"Here hold out your finger like this," you said and showed him how to stand gently and hold out his pointer finger. As he followed your actions, the butterfly gently landed on him. He looked in awe at the insect and you stealthily took a picture of him. The rest of the afternoon, you described to him what flowers butterflies like best and the lengthy process of tending to them before they reached metamorphosis.

Whenever Gaz was on deployment, he would always visit to relax in the butterfly sanctuary. He loved watching as you tended to the flowers and gently fed the butterflies sugar water. Even when he was on a mission, he would be sure to ask about some of his favorite butterflies, even going so far as to name them. "How's my girl, Cressia, doing?" he asked over FaceTime as you walked to find the Great spangled fritillary amongst the zinnias. "Here she is!" you exclaimed and pointed the camera at Cressia, a gorgeous butterfly with golden yellow wings. You could hear someone snicker in the background but Kyle didn't care as he continued to take screenshot after screenshot.

For your first anniversary, Kyle was unfortunately deployed and couldn't celebrate with you. This didn't stop him from showering you with gifts. As you sat in the conservatory, you could hear the doorbell ring. You emerged to find the postman holding two boxes for you, one smaller than the other. You took them inside as you delicately opened up the larger package. Inside, was a note describing the care for 23 painted butterflies along with rows of small cocoons. You smiled as you read the instructions and went to place the new members into their homes. After you got them settled, you opened the small box to reveal a necklace with a small butterfly charm carved from a pearl. A note inside read, "Happy anniversary, now you can carry a butterfly with you anywhere you go."

Ghost - bookbinding

When you first invited Simon over he was quick to notice your many bookshelves all lined with books of the same aesthetic. He knew some of these were Penguin clothbound Classics but was certain they hadn't bound The Hunger Games in their unique cover. As he held The Harry Potter novels and My Year of Rest and Relaxation in his hands, he silently contemplated if he had missed a few years and these were published classics. You came into the library with two glasses and laughed at his bewildered gaze. "You discovered my little hobby, Simon," you joked and offered him a glass. As he sipped on The Paper Plane cocktail, you recounted how you would spend your free time rebinding books that didn't match your aesthetic. "It took me a while but having a matching library like this one is worth it," you said and waved your arm to the rows of books, all with a unifying factor.

As you entered into a long-term relationship, it was clear Simon loved your hobby and indulged in it. Every time he visited, he insisted on bringing you the few books he owned to create Penguin Classic-like covers. From military manuals to a vintage copy of The Art of War, you quickly rebound them and presented him with his new book. He even told you that some of his colleagues had complimented your handiwork. You always blushed in response, citing your eye for design as the cause of all the madness.

Eventually, Simon gifted you with the paperback Penguin Classics. You opened the door to see him carrying a pile of books in his arms. You quickly ushered him to the library where he set them all down on your vintage leather couch. "For the person, that has everything," he said and you went to examine all of the books. He had seemingly bought out the whole collection as you marveled at each of the covers. "Each one of them has an art piece on it," he said and you began to notice the trend. You gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek as you held Wuthering Heights in your hand. He quickly snatched it out of your hands before you could even start to rip off the cover. "Keep these, I know you have a theme going on but it doesn't hurt to have some variety," he said and gave you back the book as you stared up at him.

Now whenever someone comes to visit you, they always notice the black-bound books on display. Although they do stick out, you love recounting the story of how your significant other bought you some of the most prized objects in your collection.

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dustysalmon · 1 month ago

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Eye of the Storm - Chapter 2

Pairing: Silco x Reader Rating: Explicit Warnings/Tags: graphic depiction of violence; slow burn; enemies to lovers, enforcer!reader Word count: 3.6k

Summary: After a chain of unexpected events, Jinx is arrested, and you find yourself in possession of the gemstone. On top of it all, you are forced into a reluctant alliance with Silco. What else could possibly go wrong?

Takes up at the end of episode 7.

Read on ao3 ⎜ Previous chapter ⎜Next chapter

The last time you had been in the city council building was for your graduation at the enforcer academy, years ago. As you are now led to the hearing room, the place strikes you as immense and comically shallow—just like it did the first time.

Beautiful, no doubt, but empty and cold, devoid of personality and humanity. The archives are the exception. You’d barely gotten a glimpse of them back then, but you had wanted to go back ever since. The immense room was brimming with books, artefacts, and knowledge dating back centuries. Piltover had its share of problems, but it had always been a remarkable city. Hextech had only confirmed that. It transformed the lives of Piltovians for the better, improving transportation, the use of technologies, healthcare. One day, you think to yourself with a smile, you’ll find a way to sneak into that room again. But alas, for now, your current position doesn't allow for such privileges. Your smile fades a little as a large, heavy door opens before you, and you are reminded of why you’re here.

The councillors are in the middle of a heated debate, apparently trying to determine just how tight to close their fist around the undercity’s throat. It has not escaped your notice that the citizens of Piltover were deeply shaken by yesterday’s events. The streets are empty, shipments are being delayed or even cancelled at an alarming rate, and some people have even started leaving the city. Not that you can blame them. The repeated clashes between Silco’s goons and the Firelights have gotten more frequent, just like the assassinations of enforcers. It may have been years, but no one up here or below has forgotten the riots.

You balance yourself on your feet as you wait for the councillors to finish. They don’t seem to be in a hurry. At some point you even wonder if they have noticed your arrival. You gaze absently at the dome-shaped ceiling, calculating how many yous it would take to reach it. So high and out of reach, disconnected. After a long minute, and with swift apologies, Councillor Kiramman gracefully puts you out of your misery. Among the people present, you can safely admit that she is one of the more grounded—well, as grounded as Piltovians can be, but she’s not afraid to swim against the tide when the need arises. Show of proof, you wouldn’t be there otherwise.

She introduces you to the other six members, states your rank, and your part in arresting Jinx. With minute details, you go over the events of the day before, the showdown between the Firelight leader and Jinx, the bombs, and the aftermath. The council has already heard from Caitlyn Kiramman this morning and you confirm Marcus’ betrayal. When councillor Salo inquires about the alleged deal between the late Sheriff and Silco brought forward by Caitlyn, you fail to suppress a light scoff, to the great displeasure of your interlocutor.

"Is there something amusing? Please, indulge us, officer, I do love a good joke in the midst of tragedy."

You clear your throat, arms crossed behind your back. "Respectfully, councillor, a blind man would have seen the connection." Salo fixes you with contempt, but leaves it at that.

"What about the gemstone?" He continues, "Officer Kiramman stated that it was the very reason she was meeting with Marcus, but there’s been no trace of it since then." You display your most convincing expression of surprise.

"I was not privy to the details of that meeting. It was only after my medical check-up this morning that I was made aware of the stone." The councillors exchange disappointed looks across the circular table. It’s been days since Progress Day, when the Hextech technology was stolen. Until last night at least Piltover knew where to look. Now, the Gemstone is in the wind, just about anybody could put their hands on it. True, the chances of this person actually being able to use the Hextech technology are thin but that uncertainty is far from satisfactory to the Council. On top of it all, it represents a tremendous economic hit for Piltover due to the colossal amount of third party investments revolving around Hextech. The city would recover eventually, but its reputation would be tarnished for decades to come.

Council members Medarda and Shoola follow up with more general inquiries about the riots, the protesters, and the arrests. Meanwhile, Bolbok and Hoskel seem more interested in moving on to more economic and trade matters. Jayce Talis, the man of progress himself, has not uttered a single word since you walked in, but his brain is buzzing, and you can see the restlessness in his posture, and the way his jaw tightens each time the others drone on about policies and regulations. Clearly he’d rather be anywhere else, crafting the next jewel of Hextech, running numbers, and solving equations alongside that curious partner of his. He’s not a bureaucrat, and at that particular moment, he’d much rather do the work than simply talk about it.

Councillor Kiramman asks you about the morale of the enforcers deployed. You can’t tell if the concern is genuine, or if this is all just political decorum. Either way, you gladly put in a word for more ample rations, surely that can’t be too much of a dent in the city’s budget.

At last, the interrogatory comes to an end, and a discreet exhale of relief escapes you as each councillor thank you for your service and presence. You are in the middle of excusing yourself when Salo cuts you off.

"One last question, if I may. Multiple witnesses confirm that Silco, the industrialist, was at the scene last night. Why not arrest him too?"

You frown, "On what grounds? The council itself concluded that he runs his…business by the book."

"True," he presses, tone unyielding. "However, after Marcus revealed himself as a traitor, one would think you would have reconsidered Silco’s true role in all this."

Normally, you don’t take kindly to being called dense, especially in front of an audience. But now isn’t the time to let pride get in the way. This testimony is far from routine; you need to tread carefully here. As far as Piltover is concerned, this entire operation is a no show. The city is on edge, its Sheriff exposed as a corrupt traitor, and the gemstone…well, that’s strictly need-to-know. The truth is, Piltover is not looking too sharp at the moment, and neither is the council. They are looking for a scapegoat. All things considered, you’d much rather appear naïve for a few seconds than be caught with the Gemstone in your back pocket.

"I’m an enforcer, not an investigator." You say with a slight shrug. "But I believe that Silco is more valuable to us down there than rotting in Stillwater."

Salo leans forward, curious to hear your input. "And why is that?"

"So far, save for a few dissidents, the people of the undercity have mostly kept to themselves. Enforcer presence at the border is only effective because the other side is not interested in making trouble. Yet. We’re not the ones keeping the undercity in check. And neither are you or your policies. Silco is."

Salo sneers. "And what a marvellous job he’s doing!"

You hold your ground, trying to ignore the mocking laughs rising around the table. "Surely I don’t need to remind you what happens when the underground is really out of control. This is nothing."

"Watch your tone, officer. Don’t forget your place."

You muster every ounce of self-control, taking a deep breath as Councillor Kiramman calls for a bit of decorum. You give her a quick, appreciative nod before continuing, "I made a judgement call, if you wish to punish me for it, that’s entirely up to you. Our orders were to stand watch on the bridges, and make arrests. Nothing more, nothing less."

Salo looks ready to press further, but Councillor Medarda’s patience is running thin as well. "I’m sure there will be no punishments necessary." She offers a composed smile, folding her hands together. "Once again, thank you for your time." She pauses, then seems to remember something important, and her smile sharpens. "Oh, I nearly forgot. Some good news at least. It seems you’ve been promoted." You stare at her, mouth agape and completely thrown off. "My congratulations, Major. You’ll be sure to extend my sympathies to Warren as well."

Of all the things that you expected from this meeting, this wasn’t even part of the honourable mentions. "Warren, ma’am?"

"He will be the city’s new Sheriff, of course."

"Of course." You echo, the words slipping out reflexively as your mind is still reeling. You nod absently, thank the council, and with a final glance around the room, you turn and make your way toward the large doors that the guards are pushing open for you. The corridor outside somehow feels even emptier than before, each step echoing as you replay her words in your mind. Major. You’d walked in here prepared to defend yourself—prepared for the occasional lecturing and patronising, maybe—but a promotion? That hadn’t even crossed your mind.

You decide to go all the way home on foot today—some fresh air might do you some good. So many events in so little time. You sigh. It’s not that you miss your old life—no, you wouldn’t go back for anything. But there was a rhythm to it, a familiarity. You did your part and did it well. Until the sickness made it unbearable. Here, everything feels out of reach, beyond your control. It’s not quite what you imagined. Not that you came to topside with the intent of sparking fundamental change or flipping the narrative. You would gladly call yourself an idealist, but you’re not delusional—something your mother would argue against. Maybe, somewhere deep down, you once thought you could make a difference, but that ship sailed long ago.

Unsurprisingly, the locals have deserted the food market today, much to the traders’ dismay. They linger behind their stalls, looking miserable, surrounded by products that will likely go unsold. Another week of nearly nonexistent pay, and most of this food will end up wasted. Maybe you can profit from that.

You treat yourself to a cheese sandwich and pick up some fruits and fish for the next few days. You approach the bread stall with a tinkle in your eye. A bit of small talk here, a few shared laments about the dire economy there, and you walk away with five huge pieces of brown bread—free of charge. The uniform surely helped a little too.

Taking an enthusiastic bite of your sandwich, you start making your way out of midtown, when you hear someone calling your name in the distance. The smile that spreads across your face as your eyes lock on the massive Vastaya jogging towards you is one of pure joy and excitement.

"Dren! I thought that was you!" You barely have time to set your grocery bags on the floor before strong strong arms lift you off your feet and spin you around. When he finally puts you down, Dren towers over you by at least a foot.

Like most Vastayas of his species, he boasts stunning purplish skin covered by a very thin layer of fur, thick jet-black hair, and vivid fluorescent green eyes—eyes you are convinced are twice as sharp as human ones, though he always denies it. Truth be told, you’re still a little salty about constantly losing shooting contests and training sessions to him. The two of you find the nearest bench and start catching up on everything that’s happened over the past four months or so, while Dren was in training. Eventually, the conversation shifts to the events of the bridge. You keep it brief, doubtful he wants to hear the gruesome details.

"What about you?" You ask, steering the conversation away. After the testimony just minutes ago, you’ve had enough of this topic for the day.

"Well…it’s official." Dren discreetly pulls a shiny paramedic insignia from his satchel. "I was just on my way to headquarters to pick up all my gear." You watch him as he gazes at the small object resting in the palm of his large, clawed hand, his expression transfixed.

"I’m so proud of you. I hope we’ll get to work together again, now that I—" You stop yourself mid-sentence, and Dren is too lost in his own thoughts to notice. This is his moment after all. Besides, the ceremony isn’t even planned yet—plenty of time to share the news.

"How’s Olenna these days?" The question jolts you out of your happy little trance. Dren is part of a very small circle of people who are aware that your relationship with your mother is complicated, to put it gracefully. He knows how painful it is for you to talk about her, but he always asks. He’s unapologetically direct and straightforward like that, which is one of the reasons you like being around him. He challenges you constantly, body and mind.

"Not improving," you admit with a sigh. "Not getting worse, either. At least, I don’t think so. It’s hard to tell." Dren nods silently, his green eyes fixed on you with a disarming attentiveness that always makes you feel both seen and vulnerable. When you don’t elaborate, he pats his hands on his thighs, and rises from the bench.

"Well then, I’m sure a nice dinner will do her some good. Her and you." You chuckle at the remark. It has been an intense few days for sure, and you can physically feel the bags pulling at your eyes and your entire body screaming with fatigue. You part ways after a long hug, him striding towards the university district, you towards the undercity.

They’re still scraping up blood and body parts off the main bridge; you’ll have to make a small detour. The protests have died down significantly, and from experience, you wager it will remain that way for a couple more days. Hopefully, you’ll be able to rest properly for once. You cross the southeast bridge without a hitch, a group of demonstrators throw nasty looks in your direction, but they don’t make any trouble.

As soon as you reach the other side, you smell it. The pungent, heavy atmosphere of the underground. A stench that gives every visitor, foreign or local, a clear picture of what to expect once they enter the undercity. The familiar tang of rust and oil invades your nostrils, and you automatically reach down into your collar to adjust the sensibility on your chemsurge. Here, the smells cling to everything—your clothes, your skin, your very breath. It takes a few showers to get rid of it; you’ve learnt that the hard when you started working in Piltover. All things considered, the promenade level is not so bad. At least the sun is still visible there, faint but persistent, piercing through the cloud of fog hovering menacingly above. But as you descend deeper into the city through endless flights of worn stairs, it gets darker and darker, until your surroundings turn a murky haze of green and brown. The only light comes from the old street lamps lining the path. Their glass casings are grimy and cracked, some sputter and pop as though they might burn out at any moment.

The alleys of entresol are mostly empty at this hour, but they’ll come alive with chatter, the clinking of drinks, and the inevitable clash of street brawls as the evening sets in. The sounds here are already louder, more chaotic. Voices echo through the narrow alleys, overlapping to create an overwhelming cacophony. Your gaze drifts towards the walls that are covered in graffiti. Beautiful murals, meticulously painted to retrace the history and pay tribute to the notable figures of each neighbourhood.

As you make your way through the industrial district, the faint hum of machinery fills the place, a blend of churning and groaning punctuated by the sporadic hiss of steam vents and the distant clatter of pipes. Workers pass by, their clothes stained in grease, sweat and coal. Their faces are weary, marked with exhaustion, yet there is an undeniable air of camaraderie among them. Cables and pipes crisscross above, dripping occasional beads of liquid onto your shoulders or the ground with a soft plink. The pavement beneath your feet is uneven, a patchwork of scavenged stone and scrap metal, slick with oily puddles that reflect the faint glow of the lights.

At last, the distinct reddish roof of your mother’s house comes into view. You step inside, slide your muddy boots off, and leave them on the small doormat right behind the door.

"Ma, I’m home." You announce yourself loudly as you set the groceries down in the kitchen. You put everything away, sliding the items in their proper drawers and cupboard. Your mom is very particular about that. You set two breads aside for yourself before grabbing a large container of water from under the sink. Pouring some into a clean glass, you set it on the wooden table.

Olenna emerges from the dimly lit corridor, her warm sleeping clothes hanging loosely on her frame and a book resting in her hand. "It’s barely noon," she says dryly, pulling herself a seat.

"It was just a routine council meeting," you reply matter-of-factly, your hands reaching for the little compartment that holds her medicines.

"Must be nice for those Pilties," she scoffs, before a heavy coughing fit overtakes her. "They sure don’t push themselves too hard, do they?…You would know."

You ignore her remark and ask, "Is fish porridge okay for today?"

"Oh, it’s okay," she replies, her voice dripping with passive aggression. "Just like it was okay yesterday, and the day before that." You know better than to engage, so you simply place two painkiller tablets in front of her.

"Those things are killing me, you know."

"I’m sure they’re the least of your problems." Her face tightens, clearly offended, and she is about to argue, but you put your hand up.

"Just—" You are used to this ridiculous back and forth, it’s the same charade everyday. "Take the meds." You slide the glass of water across the table and wait. It takes the usual five or six seconds for your mom to give in. Finally, she grabs the pills, shoves them into her mouth, and downs the glass like it’s a shot of fine whiskey. After a few very exaggerated heavy breaths, she stands up. "Okay, I’m ready."

The process is always the same. Olenna sits backwards on the chair, her arms crossed over the backrest while you transfer a small dose of tampered Shimmer in a syringe. The light purple liquid spreads slowly, almost hypnotically. You lift your mother’s shirt up and quickly find the spot along her spine where the needle needs to go. Her body becomes rigid as you empty the content of the syringe all the way through, but it’s very brief. Once you’re all done, you clean everything up and get to cooking.

As usual, most of the dinner is spent in comfortable silence. Occasionally, you’ll try to make small talk. You get a word or two in return, a full sentence if you’re lucky. You smile quietly to yourself as Olenna puts her fork down. She can criticise your cooking all she wants, but she always finishes before you, leaving nothing but a clean plate behind.

You drape your uniform jacket over your shoulders and grab the grocery bag with the bread, calling out from the hallway.

"Goodnight, Ma. I’ll see you tomorrow."

"If I haven’t kicked the bucket by then," she shouts back.

"Whatever you say, Ma." You throw one last glance behind you—Olenna is already lost in her book—and head out the door.

Your apartment is just across the street, close enough if anything happens. If your relationship was different, you’d be living with her, of course. But the way things are now, she probably would’ve strangled you to death already—or vice versa. It’s better this way.

Once you’re alone in the quiet of your room, you pull out a small shoe box from under the bed. You open it to reveal the gemstone, nestled in a makeshift padding. Carefully, you take it between your thumb and index finger, rolling it slowly. It’s beautiful by all accounts, and you can’t help but wonder how such a tiny object could cause so much trouble. You’ve turned the problem over in your mind all day, and yet you still don’t know what the hell to do with it. Honestly, you don’t even fully grasp the kind of power you’re holding. You imagine that if Hextech can power up portals, then surely this thing could be used for much more dangerous purposes. But technology was never your strong suit. All you know is that there’s only two people in topside who know how to use Hextech safely—and that is not exactly reassuring.

You glance out the window, barely able to make out anything through the thick green fog in the distance. There are plenty of things about this whole mess that are bothering you, and you intend to get some answers. A little visit to the Last Drop is in order.

Thanks for reading !

Chapter 1 ⎜ Chapter 2 ⎜ Chapter 3 ⎜ Chapter 4 ⎜ Chapter 5

#silco #silco x reader #arcane #dusty writes

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captainsophiestark · 2 months ago

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Welcome to the Chaos

Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2024!

Requested by @ghostofskywalker! Hope you like it Tori, and hope I did the clones justice! ❤️

Fandom: Star Wars

Day Fourteen Prompt: "Did you stick to the plan?"

Summary: Commander Fox is about to learn just how true the stories about are the 501st when he joins them on a Separatist raid in the Outer Rim.

Word Count: 2,037

Category: Fluff, Humor

A/N: This can be read as platonic or romantic with Anakin! "Partner" here can mean mission parter, romantic partner, or both!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Are they here yet?"

I sighed, looking over the mini base camp the 501st had set up to stage our attack. Still no new ships in the landing zone, and none in sight coming in.

"Not yet," I said into my comm, responding to my best friend and partner Anakin Skywalker. He'd taken off to set up the last thing we needed to prepare before engaging with the enemy, taking Rex and Fives with him while I waited here for the last members of our party to join us.

"Well what's taking them so long?" Anakin's voice came back, whining through the comm. "We have an operation to conduct here."

"Beats me. This is the first time I've heard of the Coruscanti Guard joining us way the hell out here for a mission. Maybe they got lost."

"Cody's been out here before, they shouldn't be lost." I rolled my eyes at Anakin's tone, but didn't say anything. "Commander Fox is joining us all the way in the Outer Rim—that's how important this Separatist stash is. We can't just wait around here much longer without losing our window."

Unfortunately, Anakin was right. Not only did this Separatist base hold invaluable information and supplies we could use, it apparently held some items of very specific importance for the Chancellor. I hadn't cared enough to get the details on them, especially because that's why Commander Fox was being sent out here in the first place—to secure whatever it was the Chancellor was so concerned about.

"Well... let's switch to Plan B, then. That way we can get started as soon as you get back, whether or not Cody and Fox make it here in time."

I could hear Anakin's smile even over the crackle of the comm.

"I was hoping you'd say that. Over and out, see you in a minute."

I grinned and put my comm away. Anakin and I had come up with Plan B first, but after dicussion with Cody and Obi-Wan, it'd been replaced by the more boring, playing-it-safe Plan A. Thankfully, the 501st always managed to be on the same page. We could all switch to Anakin, Rex, and I's preferred plan without batting an eye.

Not five minutes after we'd officially changed the plan, a small troop transport ship came swooping down. The doors opened, and Commander Cody led the way towards us, Commander Fox next to him and the rest of the reinforcements from the 212th following right behind.

I grinned and gave Cody a wave as they approached. We'd worked together plenty of times before, and he and the rest of the 212th were my favorite group to work with, other than my own 501st. They weren't usually as crazy as us by any means, but they knew exactly who and what we were, and could hold their own.

Commander Fox, on the other hand, was new. I'd met him a few times in his role leading the Coruscant Guard, but we'd never worked together in the field. He seemed pretty good at his job, so hopefully, he'd be able to keep up with Anakin and I with no problems.

"General," said Cody, his voice formal as he stopped before me with a salute. Fox copied him, and I grinned. "It's good to see you."

"Likewise, Codes. Although you're a little late."

"Are we?" Cody frowned, his eyes shooting immediately to the time display on his wrist. Commander Fox frowned, stepping forward with a serious look on his face.

"My apologies, General. That's my fault. The commander was delayed while I collected some details about the specific things the Chanellor is hoping to capture in this raid."

"Don't worry about it, Fox," I said, waving him off with a grin. "I was mostly just giving Cody a hard time. We're happy to have you both out here!"

Fox gave a serious nod, which I chose to focus on instead of Cody's frown.

"It's an honor to be working with the 501st. Commander Cody briefed me on the plan on our way here, and I'm ready to do my part where you need me."

"About that-"

Before I could say another word, Anakin, Rex, and Fives came rushing in, matching grins on their faces that I knew well. Plan B involved significantly more chaos than Plan A, and I knew Anakin was as happy about that as I was.

"Okay, we're all set," said Anakin, coming to a stop beside me. He bumped my shoulder with his and gave me a boarderline maniacal look. "You ready?"

"You know I am. Did you stick to the plan?"

"Of course. I always do."

Our very own voice of reason Commander Cody couldn't quite hold back a snort. He quickly marshalled his expression as Anakin, Fox, Rex, Fives, and I all turned to look at him. The rest of the 501st and I had raised eyebrows, while Fox looked a little concerned.

"I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that," said Anakin, his narrowed eyes staying on Cody for a few extra beats. I made the mistake of making eye contact with Fives and barely managed to hold back a snort of my own.

"Alright, enough of this," I said, taking Anakin's arm to check the timer on his wrist. As expected, we were seconds away from zero. "It's time to move out! Fox and Rex, you're with me. Cody and Fives, with Ani."

All four clones saluted me, then dropped their salutes less than a second later when our explosives went off. They shook the ground we stood on, and within a few moments, we could hear the shrieking of the droid soldiers we'd caught by surprise.

"What was that?" exclaimed Fox. Anakin and I just shared a grin.

"That was the plan!" Rex answered for us. I reached out and took Anakin's hand, giving it one last squeeze for luck along with a wink, before the two of us took our boys in different directions.

"That was not the plan!" Fox shouted, following along with Rex and I anyway. I shared a grin with Rex.

"It was our plan!"

I heard a disgruntled grunt from Fox, but to his credit, he quickly fell into step with Rex and I. The two of us moved like a well oiled machine, especially since Rex had spent so long with the 501st and our shenanigans, but Fox managed to keep pace and hold his own incredibly well. In the midst of all the chaos from the explosions, we moved along the right side of the battlefield like a whirlwind, clearing one side while Anakin, Fives, and Cody took the other. The rest of our troops and Cody's 212th reinforcements cut through the center like a hot knife through butter.

Unfortunately for us, the droids managed to get organized before we managed to route them. We'd cleared about half of the space when a droid tank came to life, whirling on the three of us cutting along the sideline.

"Rex!"

"On it, General! Fox, come on!"

Fox looked confused, but he didn't bat an eye as he followed Rex, charging ahead of me and closing distance with the tank. I grinned, especially as I watched Rex take command of the situation with ease despite his technically lower rank.

"Take a knee with your right side facing the tank!" he shouted. Fox looked like he was about to ask a question, but Rex beat him to it as he jumped and I extended my hand. "Just do it!"

I caught Rex halfway through his jump, using the Force to lift him up and onto the top of the droid tank. Luckily for both of us, Fox trusted Rex and I enough to follow Rex's instructions. Just as he got his foot planted and took a knee, I jumped, landing on Fox's thigh and pushing off to join Rex on top of the tank. I grinned at Fox and shouted at him as I jumped past.

"Good! Now fire at the thing!"

Moving like one connected being, Fox used enough heavy weaponry to keep the tank from moving too far forward. I cut the thing open with my lightsaber, and Rex fired a few quick rounds through the hole I'd made to take out the droids and the tank as one. It sank to the ground in a heap, leaving Fox directly in front of it and Rex and I triumphantly on top.

"Nice work," I said with a grin, high-fiving Rex and jumping down to do the same with Fox. He gave me the high-five despite shaking his head, then stood up with a huff.

"Now I know what Commander Cody was trying to warn me about," he said. "It's nice to know the younger clones weren't telling tall tales about what goes on in the 501st."

"Massive, epic successes?" I guessed. Rex grinned at me, and when Fox shook his head again, this time it was with a smile.

"Exactly, General."

It didn't take us long to clear the rest of the battlefield. When we'd finished, Rex and I shared another high-five, then met up with Anakin, Cody, and Fives in the center of the former chaos.

"Well done you three," Anakin said as he came over to us. "That was a nice move with the tank. I'm especially impressed with how well you kept pace, Commander Fox."

"Right?" I exclaimed, jumping in before Fox could answer. "You're practically an honorary member of the 501st! That was incredible!"

Fox gave us a salute and a slightly uncertain looking smile.

"Thank you, Generals."

Cody smiled and clapped a hand on Fox's shoulder.

"Don't worry. You get used to it."

Anakin, Rex, Fives, and I shared a conspiratorial smile. Watching uninitiated people try to deal with the way we did things was one of our collective favorite passtimes, and this had been no exception.

After another moment enjoying the aftermath, I sighed.

"Alright, we should probably wrap up and get out of here. Rex, Fives, can you two go with Cody and Fox to secure whatever it is the Chancellor's looking for? We need to get that to him as soon as possible."

Rex and Fives both saluted.

"Yes, General."

Anakin sighed and draped an arm across my shoulders as we watched the rest of our group walk away. I couldn't be totally sure what they were talking about, but I had a feeling it involved Commander Fox debriefing about the somewhat unorthodox methods he'd just witnessed from the 501st. Luckily for us, I knew Rex and Fives loved it, and even though he liked to be the voice of reason, I knew Cody enjoyed it, too. I knew they'd bring Fox around to the same page, even if we'd been a pretty big surprise today.

"Well, that went well," said Anakin happily. I smiled and leaned into his side.

"It sure did. We've got a damned good group, which helps."

"Sure does. What do you think Fox would do if we asked him to stick around with us for a few drinks once we get this place cleaned out?"

I laughed. "I guess we won't know until we ask him, will we? It is a post-battle tradition for the 501st, after all."

"Exactly. How else are we supposed to get close enough to regularly throw each other over walls and onto tanks?"

"Training?"

Anakin scoffed. "There's no training for the situations we regularly find ourselves in. Or for the ways we have to get ourselves out of them."

"I agree," I said, turning to face him with a grin. "So... last one to find valuable supplies and Separatist information has to do a handstand while singing in front of the whole group tonight?"

Anakin smirked. "You better start practicing your song."

"Not a chance, flyboy!" I shouted over my shoulder as I took off running through the battle remnants. I heard Anakin shout a "Hey!" behind me, but I ignored him as I raced through the destroyed supplies, ships, and droids. I tore past Cody, Fox, Rex, and Fives and saw a raised eyebrow or two, but I didn't stop to explain.

I had a bet to win, after all, and the best way to be initiated to the chaos of the 501st was to jump in head-first with questions later, anyway.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

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cfk302-blog · 9 months ago

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He was overwhelmed with humiliation. Why were they subjecting him to this?

Having to appear in public in this absurd orange jumpsuit and these plastic slippers on his bare feet. As if that wasn't enough, the steps he could take with them were extremely limited by the chains he wore.

This was truly excessive. Just because he had driven with a few too many drinks, he now had to endure such immense humiliation.

Fortunately, this shameful display would soon be over. His wealthy family's expensive lawyers would ensure his quick release and dismissal with a fine. He had even boldly told the guards that.

That was a mistaken assumption on his part. The judge wanted to set an example and sentenced him to one year in a medium-security prison.

He couldn't believe his ears when he heard that. He looked around, fearful, panicked, and incredulous. But as his lawyer shook his head and made him realize the reality, the officers seized him to take him straight to his destination for the next year. They grinned, implying that his prediction hadn't come true.

The luxurious life he led was now abruptly paused. No more privileges, no more deciding how his day would go. But instead, 24/7 listening to what others ordered him to do - or yelled at him. On his way to the car, he trembled with fear for what was to come. He even fell to his knees a few times.

The ride to the prison took 4 hours. Due to this distance, he would also receive few visitors.

During the journey, he lamented his prospects. At departure, he began sobbing and crying. Later came self-pity. He even begged his guards to take him back. He was extremely desperate and fearful. When the guards laughed at him, he began crying harder. He even wanted to kneel down, but he couldn't. His bare ankles were chained to his bench.

Upon arrival, he refused to get out, forcing the guards to carry him out of the transport bus. He lost his slippers in the process and had to make the distance to the entrance barefoot. Seeing the tough fellow inmates on the other side of the gate and hearing the words they shouted at him, the young man lost all control over himself. He wet his orange jumpsuit, and everyone clearly saw it. The guards looked down on him, and the other prisoners laughed at him. He was in for a hellish time.

As for his uniform upon arrival in prison, he would be provided with the standard-issue orange jumpsuit and slip-on shoes. He would be housed in a basic cell, likely with one or more cellmates. His daily tasks would include cleaning duties, possibly kitchen work, or other chores assigned by the prison authorities.

#inmate #barefootprisoner #inmatefeet #barefootinmate #jailsandals #jailslides

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wonnieaura · 5 months ago

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₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. College essentials

Are you moving to a college dorm for the first time and don’t know what to bring? Don’t worry I got you. Here are a few things you can get yourself ready for a new chapter 🫶🏻💗🎀🌱

COLLEGE ESSENTIALS

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Bedding and Comfort

• Twin XL sheets (common dorm bed size)

• Comforter or duvet

• Pillows and pillowcases

• Mattress topper (memory foam for extra comfort)

• Throw blankets

• Decorative pillows

Storage and Organization

• Under-bed storage bins

• Closet organizers

• Hangers

• Desk organizers (for pens, notebooks, etc.)

• Drawer dividers

• Shoe rack

• Storage ottoman (can double as seating)

Kitchen and Dining

• Mini fridge

• Microwave

• Electric kettle

• Coffee maker

• Reusable water bottle

• Plates, bowls, and utensils

• Mugs and glasses

• Tupperware (for leftovers and snacks)

• Snack stash

Bathroom Essentials

• Shower caddy (for transporting toiletries)

• Shower shoes/flip-flops

• Bath towels and washcloths

• Toiletries (shampoo, conditioner, soap, toothpaste, etc.)

• Robe

• Toilet paper

• Laundry basket and detergent

• Bath mat

• Mirror

Study and Technology

• Desk lamp with adjustable brightness

• Laptop and charger

• Power strip with surge protection

• Extension cords

• USB flash drive or external hard drive

• Noise-canceling headphones

• Desk chair cushion (for added comfort)

• Notebooks, pens, and planners

Décor and Personal Touches

• Wall art or posters

• String lights or LED lights

• Rug (to make the room cozier)

• Plants (real or fake)

• Photo frames or a corkboard (to display memories)

• Command hooks (for hanging items without damaging walls)

• Curtains (if the dorm allows)

Health and Wellness

• First-aid kit

• Reusable face masks

• Hand sanitizer

• Disinfecting wipes

• Vitamin supplements

• Water filter pitcher

Miscellaneous

• Fan or space heater (depending on climate)

• Tool kit (for small repairs)

• Umbrella

• Bicycle lock (if biking to campus)

• Reusable shopping bags

• Sewing kit

#beauty #fashion #hyper feminine #light feminine #pink moodboard #pink pilates princess #soft moodboard #that girl #beautytips #confidence #wonyoungism

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pandemichub · 3 months ago

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If Tumblr prompts you to sign in use read mode/reader mode and it will display the post as text.

Please advocate for evacuation of incarcerated people, homeless people, disabled people, those in care settings, immigrants and animals (pets, wild life and farm animals). Don't leave people behind ❤️

ID: The Partnership for Inclusive Disaster Strategies @disasterstrat

Disability and Disaster Hotline 800-626-4959 linktr.ee/disasterstrat

Disability-Led Response Supporting @FightForRightUA

disasterstrategies.org

ID: New Disabled South@DisabledSouth

Working to achieve liberation and justice for disabled people in the U.S. South | 501c3 nonprofit | Check out our 501c4 arm @DisSouthRising newdisabledsouth.org

Also visit hcbssouth.org

Fight for prisoners to evacuate:

Insta caption screenshot

anthony.depice @arianajasmine__: Thank you @fighttoxicprisons for all of this information - please give them a follow.

Jails Not Evacuating-

Manatee County Central Jail- Mandatory Evac Zone A Ran by Manatee County Sheriff Rick Wells-

**Twitter- @ ManateeSheriff

**Instagram - @manateecountysheriff

Phone- **General Line- (941)-747-3011

****Extension 2222 - Office of the Sheriff ****Extension 2915 - Central Jail Information ****Extension 1549 - Public Safety Communications Center

Lee County Jail- Mandatory Evac Zone A

Lee County Sheriff Carmine Marceno-

**Twitter- @ SheriffLeeFL Llll

**Instagram- leesherif

Phone- **Main Headquarters - (239) 477-1350 **Main Jail - (239) 477-1500

Tweet elicia donze @eliciadonze. 28m

FREE SHUTTLES TO SHELTERS IN THE TAMPA EVAC ZONE.

CALL 800-729-3413 FOR ASSISTANCE. FL Division of Emergency M... • 18h

Tomorrow, 10/8, there will be free shuttles operating in Pinellas, Pasco & Hillsborough counties assisting with #Milton evacuations to shelters.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 8 FREE EVACUATION SHUTTLES Free shelters and free transport assistance available

PINELLAS PASCO HILLSBOROUGH

Call 800-729-3413, 7 am - 7pm for Evacuation Assistance

Visit FloridaDisaster.org/Updates for times & locations

Tweet Art Candee @ArtCandee

It's sad how many people don't know that there are shuttles that will pick you up from your home and take you to a free shelter during Hurricane Milton. The fact that people still push the "poor people can't afford to evacuate" line is really sad.

Please help combat this and spread the phone number to request a shuttle, and let people know Uber and Lyft are also offering free or discounted rides to evacuate the storm and get to a shelter.

Also important to note that there are shelters who are specially equipped for people with special needs.

UBER AND LYFT TO PROMO CODE: miltonrelief

SHUTTLE #FOR EVERYONE EVACUATION ZONES: 1 (800) 729-3413

UBER AND LYFT TO EVACUATE CODE: miltonrelief SHUTTLE

#FOR EVERYONE EVACUATION ZONES 1 (800)729-3413

ID: Erin Regan Animal Sanctuary IF YOU ARE EVACUATING FROM FLORIDA AND HAVE NOWHERE TO GO OR CANNOT AFFORD A HOTEL...

We have 40 acres in Picayune, Mississippi where you, your horses, farm animals, and pets can ride out the storm. We are about 9 hours from Tampa.

Tents and RVs welcome.

Please email [email protected] for assistance.

Tweet elicia donze @eliciadonze

PET FRIENDLY SHELTERS IN HILLSBOROUGH COUNTY TELL YOUR FRIENDS Hillsborough County @HillsboroughFL.

Quoted tweet

Hillsborough County will open nine emergency storm shelters at 2:30 p.m., today, Oct. 7 for residents in evacuation Zones A and B, and those whose homes are vulnerable to storm surge, flooding, and wind damage....

Hillsborough County Florida EST. 1834 Hillsborough County to open the following emergency storm shelters at 2:30 p.m., today, Oct.7:

Hillsboro county Florida graphic.

Hillsborough county to open the following emergency storm at two therapy today, October 7

Burnett middle school 1010 N. Kingsway Rd., Seffner, FL 33584 pet friendly

Middleton high school 4801 N. 22nd St., Tampa, FL 33610 pet friendly.

Durant High school 4748 Cougar Path city, FL 33567 pet friendly.

Sickles high school 7950 Gunn Highway, Tampa, FL 33626, pet friendly

Shields middle school 15732 Shields Way, Tampa, FL 33626 pet friendly

Pizzo elementary school 11701 Bull Run Drive, Tampa, FL 33617 general population, not pet friendly

Erwin technical College 2010 Hillsborough Ave., Tampa, FL 33610 special needs only, pet friendly

Sumner high school 106050 County Rd. 672 Riverview, FL 33579 special meets only, pet friendly

Strawberry crest high school 4691 Gallagher Rd., Dover, FL 33527 special needs only, pet friendly

hcl.gov/stay safe

youtube

Dr. Serena Arnold

You don't necessarily need to leave the state or drive hundreds of miles. Sometimes 5 or 10 mile difference will make all the difference.

Deadliest part of a hurricane is the storm surge.

If you live 20 feet of elevation or lower these are the people who need to evacuate.

Find out your elevation if you don't know it at WhatIsMyElevation.com. Compare it with the storm surge forecast at NHC.NOAA.gov.

youtube

Summary

"Number 1, shelters cannot and should not ask for your ID in order to access them. You have a right to seek shelter regardless of your immigration status, regardless of your citizenship status and regardless of whether or not you have a government ID on you.

Number 2, well undocumented immigrants may not qualify for FEMA assistance, their children with citizenship do.

Number 3, ICE should not be operating at this time as it is a state of emergency.

Absolutely nobody should be deterred from being safe during a natural disaster."

#Hurricane Milton #Hurricane #State of emergency #Resources #Aid #Evacuation #Disability justice #disability and disaster hotline #New Disabled South #News #Help #Florida #Tampa #Tampa Florida #Transportation #Shuttles #Reblog #Share #Please

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jonaleddelhi · 4 months ago

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Comprehensive Guide to LED Displays: Transportation, Retail, Virtual Studios, and Airports

Introduction

LED displays have revolutionized various industries with their vibrant visuals, energy efficiency, and versatility. From enhancing communication in transportation hubs to creating immersive environments in virtual studios, LED displays have become indispensable. This comprehensive guide explores the specific applications of LED displays in transportation, retail stores, virtual studios, and airports, providing insights into their benefits and usage.

LED Display for Transportation

The Role of LED Displays in Transportation

LED display for transportation play a crucial role in providing real-time information to passengers, enhancing safety, and improving overall efficiency. These displays are commonly found in bus stations, train stations, airports, and even on vehicles, offering clear and concise information about schedules, routes, and emergency alerts.

Benefits of LED Displays in Transportation

Real-Time Information: LED displays provide passengers with up-to-the-minute information on arrivals, departures, and delays.

Enhanced Visibility: With bright, clear displays, passengers can easily view information even in direct sunlight or poor weather conditions.

Energy Efficiency: LED technology is known for its low power consumption, making it an ideal choice for 24/7 operation in transportation hubs.

Durability: Designed to withstand harsh environmental conditions, LED displays in transportation settings are highly durable and reliable.

Applications of LED Displays in Transportation

Passenger Information Systems: Displays showing schedules, updates, and alerts.

Wayfinding Signage: Guides passengers through large transportation hubs.

Advertising and Promotions: Digital billboards and ads targeting travelers.

Safety and Emergency Alerts: Displays that broadcast emergency messages and instructions.

LED Display for Retail Store

Transforming Retail Spaces with LED Displays

In the retail sector, LED display for Retail Store are transforming how businesses engage with customers. These displays from Jona LED are used for dynamic advertising, interactive kiosks, and enhancing the overall aesthetic of the store, creating an engaging shopping experience.

Benefits of LED Displays in Retail

Increased Customer Engagement: Eye-catching visuals attract and retain customer attention.

Dynamic Content: Easily update content to reflect promotions, new products, or seasonal offers.

Brand Enhancement: High-quality visuals reinforce brand identity and aesthetics.

Interactive Experiences: Touchscreen LED displays allow customers to interact with products and services, leading to increased sales.

Applications of LED Displays in Retail Stores

Digital Signage: Promotes products, sales, and events.

Window Displays: Captures attention of passersby with vibrant visuals.

Interactive Kiosks: Provides self-service options for customers.

In-Store Advertising: Features targeted advertisements and promotions.

LED Display for Virtual Studio

Creating Immersive Experiences in Virtual Studios

LED display for Virtual Studio creates realistic and immersive environments for filming, live broadcasts, and virtual events. These displays from Jona LED offer high resolution, seamless integration, and flexibility, making them the preferred choice for modern studios.

Benefits of LED Displays in Virtual Studios

High-Resolution Visuals: Delivers stunning, lifelike visuals that enhance the realism of virtual environments.

Seamless Integration: Modular design allows for easy integration into any studio setup.

Flexibility: Adaptable to various studio needs, from small to large-scale productions.

Cost-Effective: Reduces the need for physical sets, saving time and production costs.

Applications of LED Displays in Virtual Studios

Background Displays: Provides dynamic, changeable backgrounds for films and broadcasts.

Interactive Sets: Creates engaging, interactive environments for actors and hosts.

Virtual Event Production: Enables the creation of immersive virtual events and presentations.

LED Display for Airport

Enhancing Airport Operations with LED Displays

Airports are complex environments where clear communication is vital. LED display for Airport play a key role in conveying crucial information to passengers and staff, improving the overall efficiency and safety of airport operations.

Benefits of LED Displays in Airports

Real-Time Flight Information: Displays real-time updates on flight status, gates, and schedules.

Passenger Guidance: Helps passengers navigate through the airport with clear signage.

Advertising Opportunities: Provides high-traffic areas for targeted advertising.

Emergency Notifications: Ensures rapid dissemination of critical information in emergencies.

Applications of LED Displays in Airports

Flight Information Displays (FIDS): Shows arrival and departure times, gate information, and delays.

Wayfinding Displays: Directs passengers to gates, baggage claim, and other essential areas.

Advertising Displays: Offers a platform for brands to advertise to a large, captive audience.

Security and Alert Displays: Communicates security information and emergency alerts.

Conclusion

LED displays have become integral across various industries, including transportation, retail, virtual studios, and airports. Their ability to provide clear, dynamic, and reliable communication makes them an essential tool in modern operations. By understanding the specific applications and benefits of LED displays in these sectors, businesses can make informed decisions and optimize their use of this versatile technology.

#LED Display for Virtual Studio #LED Display for Transportation #led display for retail store

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girlactionfigure · 11 months ago

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The Heroic Nanny: Erzsebet Fajo

She saved the entire family

Erzsebet Fajo was a brave young babysitter who saved the lives of her employers – a family of four – during the Nazi occupation of Hungary in 1944.

Erzsebet Fajo was a Slovakian girl from a poor family who emigrated to Hungary by herself at age 13 to work as a nanny. She found employment with the Abonyis, a Jewish family in the small town of Bekescsaba. Parents Laszlo and Margit treasured Erzsebet as a member of the family, and she became like a big sister to their two children, Zsuzsanna and Ivan.

In 1941, the family moved to Budapest because of anti-Jewish persecution in Bekescsaba, and of course Erzsebet went with them. Despite the violent turmoil engulfing Europe, life in Hungary was relatively normal for the Abonyi family. Hungarian President Miklos Horthy had an alliance with Hitler’s Germany, but was reluctant to enforce Nazi decrees against the Jews. That reluctance, plus Horthy’s secret attempts to strike a deal with the Allies, led Germany to invade Hungary in March 1944.

The country was now run by the pro-Nazi Arrow Cross party and the situation for Hungary’s Jews got very bad very quickly. All Jews from the moment of birth were required to wear a yellow star prominently displayed on their clothing. Erzsebet, who felt like a member of the Abonyi family, wanted to wear a star too even though she wasn’t Jewish. Instead, they sadly told her she’d have to leave their employment to save her own life – non-Jews weren’t allowed to work for Jews. The Abonyis knew their days were numbered. Ten year old Zsuzsanna tried to convince her parents to commit suicide rather than be separated and murdered. Of course they refused to consider such a drastic act and tried everything to get out of Hungary but they were trapped.

At that point, young Erzsebet stepped up to become the family’s savior. Zsuzsanna remembered, “How (could) she save (us)? She didn’t have any money. She didn’t have an independent life… It (was) very sweet, but it (had) no validity. But I was wrong to think that. When the siege of Budapest started (and) virtually every home was ruined and bombed down, she was in the streets trying to get false papers.”

Erzsebet visited the Abonyis every day, bringing them food as well as medicine and other essential goods. She took all their valuables and brought them to an aunt so they wouldn’t be plundered by the Nazis.

On October 15, 1944 Laszlo Abonyi was arrested at his home and taken to a deportation center, where he awaited transport to a brutal Nazi slave labor camp.

Determined to save him, Erzsebet boldly approached the Red Cross and somehow obtained a letter of protection that she used to get Laszlo released. She knew the Abonyis were not safe in their home, and not sure what to do she pleaded with a local priest for assistance and advice. He helped her get letters from the Vatican which made the family eligible to take shelter in a building in Budapest owned by the Apostolic Nuncio. The Abonyis sheltered there for a few weeks, until the facility was attacked by the Arrow Cross. Storm troopers forced all the Jews outside and prepared to shoot them on the banks of the Danube river. Somehow, in the chaos, Erzsebet helped all four Abonyis escape.

For the next two months, Erzsebet found hiding places for the Abonyis and obtained forged papers for them. She continued visiting each member of the family every day, even though they were all in different parts of Budapest. Finally Erzsebet found safe shelter for the family in a “White Cross Hospital” – an apartment building packed with bunk beds where families targeted by the Nazis were hiding out.

Hungary was liberated by the Soviet Union in January 1945 and the Abonyis were able to return to their apartment. After the war they legally adopted Erzsebet, making it official that she was a member of the Abonyi family. They sent her to school so she could get a good education, and left her a third of their estate. Zsuzsanna and her husband left Hungary following the failed revolution of 1956 and moved to the United States, where Zsuzsanna became a respected writer, professor and founder of the Holocaust Studies Program at the University of Texas. She maintained a close correspondence with her adopted sister until Erzsebet’s death in 1995.

Erzsebet Fajo was honored as Righteous Among the Nations by Israeli Holocaust Memorial Yad Vashem in 1986. In her testimony, Zsuzsanna said, “Driven by the desire to save us, Erzsi defied the Germans. She saved us from death, saved my brother and me from becoming orphans and my parents from the worst anguish that can befall people – the loss of their children. It was her strength and heroism that gave us life, allowed us to grow up and eventually have children of our own.”

For her astonishing bravery in saving the life of an entire family, we honor Erzsebet Fajo as this week’s Thursday Hero.

#Thursday Hero

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accio-victuuri · 1 year ago

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BXGs + IQIYI night ( and other fandom issues ) 🍵

11/25 is upon us and i’m personally excited to see WYB at a public event but my expectations are in check. He is obviously there because of his work with Chang Feng Po Lang and he has some obligation to promote it this way. He has no drama that aired with them this year and he has virtually no ties with them like he would Youku or Tencent even if the latter was in the past.

So i’m not expecting him to be fighting it out with other celebrities present for the spotlight. He doesn’t need it, the attention will naturally fall on him anyway. He also doesn’t have to try so hard to be relevant because he is already WYB. As much as I would love for him to perform, I don’t think it’s gonna happen but I hope i’m wrong.

Anyway, since the event will have lots of celebrities, the fandom activities are on. As expected. Online, it will be making sure your bias will be on top comments about IQIYI night related posts. Or when the individual photos come out, most likely 11/24, WYB should have the highest likes or shares.

Sohu’s weibo account shared what offline activities fandoms are doing and the first one is WYB. ✌🏼

( caption: Fans of male artists on iQiyi’s Scream Night support offline. There are large-screen displays on various transportation and landmark buildings in Macau, exclusive customized banners, etc. the fans are so attentive. )

What I love about the post is the project they shared there is by BXGs. ☕️

It’s a ad screen to be played in two ports close to Macau. IQIYI night is gonna take place on the same venue where YH concert took place this year. So that’s a memorable place for BXGs too. This is not something new. If you’ve been into fandoms like this before, then it makes sense. It’s actually standard and pretty simple, nothing extravagant. There are even companies that will do voting polls and the winning fandom will have their faves on LED Ads.

Video below is how it actually looks like in Gong Bei port. So many foot traffic omg!!!! They even used an edit by Stardustkii who is everyone’s fave. && The video is focused on his Movie Era 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

If you look at the main post of Sohu, all the top comments are BXGS. Passion Fruit supports WYB! 💪🏼

The drama ( sort of ) comes from one of the “fanclubs” of WYB sharing and commenting on that Sohu post.

Wang Yibo Cool Leopard Club and all fans responded to the Cyberspace Administration of China's "Qinglang" series of special action calls to guide the positive development of the fandom and have always put an end to any irrational support behavior.

Reject any consumption and gathering behaviors in the name of artists; reject any irrational support and other illegal fandom behaviors; put an end to any extravagant and wasteful support habits!

Let’s all work together to do more things that are of positive significance to society and jointly maintain a harmonious online environment.

My first reaction to this, aside from heavy eye rolling for sure 🙄🙄🙄, is utter confusion. This is because as soon as WYB was announced, even before that, another WYB fan group was telling fans what time WYB will be announced so everyone comment. They were also doing test posts and preparation to make sure WYB has good KPI numbers online and offline for the event. Even WYB’s FC Guangdong Group was calling on people to meet in Macau.

So everyone was like ?????

and how some so/os were supporting that repost. I mean come on. this has nothing to do with qinglang. they are rejecting that post cause it’s a BXG project and once again, it’s a shame for so/os. it’s giving them flashbacks to what happened in YH concert in Macau where they utterly failed to show up for WYB. Tho I have to give it to them, pulling Qinglang and acting all high and mighty compared to other fandoms is an infuriatingly genius route to go. I’m in a different fandom, I don’t know what happens in the inner circle of WYB’s so/o fandom in CHN but this incident gives me the clue that they are once again uncoordinated. He has a couple of “fan clubs” and groups per city and that has always been the reason for lack of unity. I mean, hate the 🍤🍤🍤 all you want, but those bitches are coordinated as fuck. They listen to one account only. There are no scattered fan clubs. It is cult-ish in some ways but it works when it comes to making sure everyone is doing the same thing and working on the same goal.

WYB so/o fans in CHN should get their act together. I know they work so hard ( that green banner for GRA was so sweet ) and I see it, but the lack of planning and coordination in times like this is hard to watch.

Now I don’t know what SOHU’s motive is only that they wanted to cover fandom projects for IQIYI Scream night. Maybe whoever it is just saw Yibo and Green and thought that’s it? They didn’t know BJYXSZD? Who knows. 🤷🏻‍♀️

I’m seeing BXGs who are going to Macau and are organizing together. I would think it’s harder to get tickets for this cause you are competing with other fandoms too. I just hope they have fun! I’m so excited for fansite photos too!

I was actually not supposed to share this cause it contains fandom “issue” which is sensitive. but the purpose of my tumblr have always been to write my thoughts… As much as cpfs are supposed to hate so/os and vice versa, I have never wished or hoped for their respective so/o fandoms to fail and be humiliated. Because they represent the boys and we support the same person.

Let’s just see what happens on 11/25 ✌🏼

#yizhan #fandom thoughts #bxgs are really something else

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pinksparkl · 8 months ago

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All for want of a kiss

Host club AU, strangers-to-something-more Lovely/Vincent

Source: this came to me in a dream. No really.

The last scene is solely just so I can hear Porter say “snog” in my head XD

Shout out to @romirola for keeping me somewhat sane as I wrote this and doubted myself over the sheer cringe-fest I felt it had become.

Host Clubs, Host club AU, Alcohol, (though only a little bit), Public Display of Affection, First Kiss, If you squint you'll find Adam XD, Height Differences

Rated: T

6956 words (read here or on ao3)

Nestled in the centre of the city was the expertly designed and elaborately decorated host club – Wonder World – and all those who frequented it had their eyes set on at least one of the hosts, what an attractive bunch they were. All hoped to win the favour of such beauty for a price that few were willing to pay. Well, almost all of its clientele came for that reason.

Soft music played over hidden speakers, a simple rhythm that made way for relaxation if one willed it, or could become an accompaniment to smooth dancing with a skilled partner. It also played the role of keeping hushed conversations private, something that was quite the necessity when its clients were often of high status; rumours spread quickly, so in this case – as in many others – prevention was better than a cure.

The bar had been pleasantly crowded, but fortunately not too many were vying for the mixologist's attention, this was a private club that thrived off of its exclusivity. A certain guest ordered a fruity Mai Tai that came adorned so many garnishes, it seemed that there would be no way to transport it safely to their table. The busser made it look effortless – never spilling a drop or disturbing the fruit piled precariously on top – although not without a look that advertised very loudly as to how he'd like to be “reimbursed" for his efforts.

The guest sent him away with a polite smile – relieved that he had eventually taken the hint – then sipped at their drink while taking stock of their surroundings. Looking all around, they marvelled at the red velvet that lined the walls of the lounge, a not-so subtle sign of just how grand of a place it was, as well as the absence of prices on any of the menus. No matter where they directed their gaze, they found more and more proof of the sheer opulence they had been given admittance to; people in fancy clothing were being chatted up and complimented by extremely handsome attendants – who wore equally, if not more luxurious attire. All manners of frivolity went on while they sat in their corner booth, away from the hustle and bustle, sighing with feelings of not belonging, debating whether or not they should just leave as soon as they had finished their delicious, but likely overpriced drink. “Why did I even come here? This is such a stupid idea...”

Overhearing things in the work breakroom usually led to a lot of boring information, but a few weeks ago, they had heard conversation s about a “magical place” where “your fantasies come true" and where “the hosts take such good care of everyone who walks in”, though the most important piece of info they'd learned was that they were “discreet" if nothing else.

They had come with one goal in mind, but had immediately chickened out as soon as they had set foot in the illustrious establishment that promised nothing but a pleasurable experience for all who entered. Effervescent nerves that fizzed in their veins triumphed against the meagre measure of Dutch courage their glass had once contained.

“At least it tastes good,” they conceded, ice clinking as they swirled the remnants around in the glass. Just one sip left, then they could pay their bill – after finding how much it was, of course – and go home and pretend that none of this ever happened.

Maybe they had been too naïve to think they could do this. To think they could pluck up the courage and admit to what society seemed to find a failing in them, and ask for someone to... help.

They sighed, lost in their thoughts, this could just be an illusion of a dream not meant for the likes of them, and they could accept that. Unfortunately, their plan of a quick exit was thwarted when two hosts came over to their table to keep them company. It shouldn't have been a surprise, this was custom for a place such as this: no guest should be left unattended or allowed to feel even an ounce of boredom when at Wonder World. A sentiment this particular guest wished had a loophole they could utilise and escape through.

The hosts were very interesting, kept them thoroughly entertained with their uncanny ability to almost predict what the other was about to say. Before long the guest found out that their company for the evening were two trainee hosts, as the duo explained why they were paired up as they gained more experience and confidence in their duties. A lull in the conversation had their captivated guest realising that there was just something about these two that kept them on edge. They didn't feel they could let themself completely relax, unsure of who these strangers were, and what else they were capable of.

Curiosity won out, there was something that fought for their attention, something they felt they needed to know. “If you don't mind me asking, what age are you two?” They asked the deceptively easy question with a wary expression. It wasn't that they were unappreciative of the attention, it was all but expected when one came to a place like this, but they just felt the need to put their mind at ease. Despite their charm and professionalism the pair did look rather young.

“Well we're legal, if that's what you mean.” The duo gave each other a sly eye smile before returning their gazes to the guest in front of them, who simply sighed. An evasive answer didn't exactly help dispel their worry.

“Freddie!” The shorter of the two stage-whispered, balling their hands into fists. “That came out all wrong, and you know it. Now they're obviously gonna think we're up to something, you dingus.” It was apparent their youthful looks were a sore point for them, something the guest sympathised with.

Waving their hands in front of them as if to displace the air of any lingering suspicion, the wide-eyed guest tried another angle. “If you'd rather be vague about it, that's fine. I understand wanting to keep certain things private.” They nodded in understanding, in apology for their lack of tact. But they weren't to be deterred. “Are you early twenties? Late twenties?” Hoping the less precise markers would illicit a better answer.

“Mid-twenties,” he replied with a careful tone.

“Okay, now that was a more useful piece of information, even if only by a slim margin.”

“Hmm, no offence, you both seem very nice, but I think I'd be more comfortable with someone a bit...” There truly was no other way to say it, so they steeled themself to get it over with. “...well, older?” They thought if they were going to be made to stay a while longer, they should at least be seen to by someone who was more their type if possible, and in a club that boasted about how highly rated it was, it certainly didn't admit any beggars. So, it was time to be a chooser, then.

“Oooh, you like 'em older do ya?” The one with the brightly coloured hair – almost blindly neon, which was rather at odds with the club's luxurious aesthetic – replied in jest, eyes squinted into crescents, seemingly found this admission to be extremely amusing.

The guest stood their ground, not seeing the humour in the situation. “Yeah, someone around my age, preferably.” The pair didn't quite believe their guest’s words when they revealed how old they were, eyes wide and mouths agape before they remembered the appropriate decorum required of their employment. They merely smiled politely at the hosts; it was a reaction they were well used to by now, with years of similar remarks.

“Well if you're looking for older, how about... him?” The taller of the two posed the question as he pointed to a man who stood with his back turned away from the group. They liked the look of him – his posture, his style, even the way he laughed at someone's joke – but that didn't mean much, as all of the hosts here were very good looking and trained in the art of conversation. “Hey! Vincent!”

The unfairly attractive, unknown host turned around at the sound of his name, and let his gaze wander over the three individuals seated in a booth. Quickly passing over his colleagues, he found an unfamiliar face, and he smiled dazzlingly.

As soon as their eyes met across the room, the guest was immediately entranced, almost breathless from the sight alone. This man was beautiful. There was no other word to describe him, anything else was vastly insufficient.

After taking a second to ascertain the situation, Vincent elegantly turned back around to give his apologies to his current conversation partners. “Excuse me, my next client is waiting for me. Please, do have a good evening in my absence.” Even his manners were impeccable. “You've got this, Solaire!” He thought in a panic, his heart beating double time as he fixed a well-practised smile on his face – a mask, nothing more – making his way to where he had been summoned with confident-looking strides that only served to accentuate his long legs.

The guest was stunned. Speechless. Unable to take their eyes of off the ethereal being walking their way. “I probably look like a gaping fish or something.” Running their fingers up and down the side of their glass, condensation collected on their skin, their anxiety spiking as the man they now knew to be Vincent, drew ever nearer.

Barely containing their laughter, the host with the bright hair nudged their fellow trainee with an elbow and pointedly looked over at the guest before adopting a more composed expression as the man of the hour approached. The trainees bowed and gestured with practiced flourishes to introduce the guest to their senior host, “Vincent, this is-“

“-my Lovely.” Without any preamble or warning, Vincent knelt gracefully low to take the guest's hand in his and pressed his full lips to their knuckles in greeting, looking up at them through his lashes, causing their cheeks to flush hot. This left the pair standing off to the side stifling giggles at his sudden dramatics.

“I like the sound of "lovely"; definitely prefer it to my real name. Hmm assigned “lovely” by a handsome stranger? I'll take it.” Lovely felt like their entire world had been reduced to the shine of his eyes, and the warmth of his hand wrapped around theirs, which was only further emphasised by the cool metal of his rings against their skin.

Seeing the lack of outward reaction from his latest conquest of the evening, Vincent was a little surprised, but he would make do; he wasn’t the top host of Wonder World for nothing. And a little game of cat and mouse wasn't fun if the mouse didn't play along too.

“We'll be okay here, guys,” Vincent said over his shoulder never taking his eyes off of Lovely as he dismissed the trainees so they could move onto their next task of the evening. With any luck they had completed their allotted floor-time for the day and could slip out to the back for some behind the scenes work they could at least pretend to be doing. No one fell for their dedicated little worker-bee act, but it was fun all the same.

“We'll be taking our leave then, dear patron.” Minding their training to never leave a client without an appropriate send-off, the pair bowed again, gloved hands tucked neatly behind their backs.

A dreamy “yeah, bye” and a distracted handwave was all Lovely could manage to say as they stared into Vincent's eyes. They were so taken in by his charm and beauty that they didn't notice the other hosts leaving their section, quietly gossiping amongst themselves as they walked away.

“Wow, got them to look into his eyes already,” he whispered in quiet awe to his colleague, knowing the music would keep their conversation private from would-be nosy-parkers. “That must be a record, right?”

“Twenty bucks says he'll only need ten minutes before they're nothing but putty in his hands,” the shorter one smirked, loving to place bets on the prowess of the “Prince" of Wonder World and the tactics he used to stay on ahead of the others.

“I dunno, this time... it feels... different somehow.” He fought to keep the worry that slipped into his words off his face, it wouldn't do to cause a scene in the middle of a crowd.

“What, like five minutes? Or d'you mean it'll take longer? Is he losing his touch? Is Wonder World gonna crash and burn when everyone finds out? Are we gonna lose our jobs? Ar-"

“Bright,” he called their name, cutting off their downward spiral. “Shut up.”

The pair continued walking, winding their way through the guests, checking that everyone was being seen to, catered to, surrepticiously moving closer and closer to the “employees only" door that promised freedom, at least temporarily.

It was truly a wonder that Lovely managed to keep breathing as their thoughts had slid to a complete standstill the moment Vincent had graced their vision. He took over their senses in a way they couldn't hope to comprehend as they sank into blissful calm. The anxious nerves they had been dealing with thus far disappeared and were replaced with a soothing relief.

Still holding Lovely's hand, Vincent slid into the booth seat next to them. “Now, what would cause such a lovely person to grace our humble establishment with their presence this fine evening?” He purred as he leaned in close, eyes narrowing with intrigue, his silvery irises glistening in the low light. “I really am curious.”

Lovely covered their face with the hand the handsome stranger wasn't holding. They had completely forgotten that they could pull away – it wasn't as if he was holding it awfully tight. It was comforting and warm, so they left it there, feeling his thumb massaging circles into the back of their hand. It felt nice, reassuring. It made them want to kiss him.

“Kiss him?” Their body stiffened as a traitorous thought swam through their mind.

“Lovely? Are you okay?” Vincent waved a hand in front of their face, concerned with their spaced-out expression. He'd had his fair share of adoring admirers, but they were on another level entirely all their own.

Stealing themself as they blinked some clarity back into their vision, Lovely made the decision to confess to their admittedly dumb plan that had brought them to the host club in the first place. They swallowed forcing down the anxiety and tasting the remnants of their fruity drink. “I came here... because I wanna know how to kiss better.” Immediately looking away, their attention was absorbed by the rich velvet of the curtains while they figured out how to best suppress the embarrassment frothing under the surface. “Maybe I should just leave. Yeah, leaving would be good. Leaving means no more embarrassing myself in front of someone so wildly out of my league that I have to essentially pay for his presence.”

Lovely shuffled in their seat, edging away from Vincent, away from the chance to experience a little escapism, towards the way out, but Vincent's hand tugged on theirs gently, stopping them in their retreat. He looked at them with pleading eyes. Beautiful eyes that made them want to stay forever – so they didn't look, gaze fixed on a faraway bottle of blue alcohol that looked very expensive.

“Oh? You have a partner, or would-be partner you'd like to impress?” They could almost believe that he sounded disappointed, but reasoned to themself that it was just a part of his role as host, to entertain the fantasy that he would want them.

“Who would want me? I'm just... me.”

As they continued to look away from him, Vincent kept gently massaging their hand; he knew how gentle touches could make a person feel more at ease. Any tenseness that had built up in their frame slowly dissolved with his ministrations. Lovely no longer looked like they wanted to bolt away, so he called his attempt a success.

“Huh? ...no. Nothing like that. It's more for myself, so that I'd be more prepared if I was ever in a situation to want to kiss someone, or even be kissed... urgh, that sounds dumb.” Lovely scrunched their nose, shaking their head as they heard the words coming out of their mouth. They wanted the earth to swallow them up; anything would be less embarrassing than this, than confessing to the most beautiful man they'd ever laid eyes on that they'd never even been kissed. It felt like they’d committed some kind of crime, like they were somehow trying to coerce him into doing something that most likely wasn't part of his job description.

“Like, who kisses random strangers? It's just a stupid movie thing... god I am dumb.” Lovely mentally face-palmed, wishing they hadn't gone through with this stupid, ill-thought plan.

A gentle shake of their joined hands got them to look at him again, to which Vincent smiled brightly as he shook his head, loose wisps of hair escaping its styling and draping over his brow. “No. It's okay. There are no wrong answers here, Lovely. If that's your reason, then that's fine.” If Lovely didn't know any better, they would swear he wasn't talking to them but to a frightened animal, his soft tone stilling their racing pulse. “Would you like me to kiss you?” Not once had he looked away from them this entire time, like he was trying to capture all of the details that made them up, like turning away would cause them to disappear from his sight. Like letting go of their hand would mean he'd never find them again.

They felt seen, but not in a way that felt at all scary or uncomfortable. Lovely liked how he looked at them, and the longer he did it, the more they wanted to never turn away again. “So this is why people to come to places like this. I get it now. This is why people like the feeling of being wanted.” The realisation hit Lovely like a tonne of bricks.

They wanted to feel wanted. That's what had been missing in their life. It took all they had not to break down into tears at the paralysing realisation.

“Well, what's that saying, “if you can't make it yourself, store-bought is fine?” I guess this is kinda like that... right? I'm buying affection? His time? A temporary fix to sate my curiosity until I can scrap together the courage to do this for real?”

No more stalling. Vincent had already discovered their motive for coming here. He said he'd fulfil their wish, and Lovely would take that, even if it was just an act of pity.

“I promise to give you an experience you'll never forget. A kiss that will make all your fears and worries melt away,” he spoke in a low voice, barely a whisper – how they could hear it so clearly over the music and chatter of the other people was a mystery. His breath tickled the shell of Lovely's ear, his words a tantalising siren's call, charming them in a bid to let go of their insecurities.

Eyes wide, bottom lip trapped between nervous teeth, Lovely wasn't sure why they were so caught off guard by his words, “he’s just latching onto the things I say to make me stay longer, but... why am I still hesitating?” After taking a second to weigh up the scant list of pros and cons, they eventually agreed; they had nothing to lose and a nice experience to gain, at the very least. “Yes, please.”

His hand finally – reluctantly – released theirs, letting it settle onto their lap, as he slowly reached up to their jaw. So slowly that Lovely thought Time itself was standing still. Just as he had rubbed their hand, he caressed their jawline with his thumb, never once dropping eye contact. Before long, Lovely found they very much enjoyed being handled like this, like they were a precious thing, worthy of someone's time and affection. Vincent leaned in so close their noses were almost touching, his eyes still on theirs. "You can close your eyes now, Lovely.” Vincent's voice was so quiet – so reverent – that they felt more than heard his words wash over them.

“Oh, right. Yeah.” They breathed out a laugh before going along with his words. A simple request that they saw no harm in obeying without question. Just as their eyelids fluttered shut, they felt his lips press against their own.

Soft, pillowy, but strong. So strong.

He pushed with a gentle pressure, but the sensation overwhelmed Lovely in a way they couldn't explain. A soft warmth, an unfamiliar intimacy that somehow felt so nostalgic that when Vincent's lashes brushed against their cheek, Lovely found themself wanting to cry with joy and relief.

“So this is what it feels like?”

Vincent took the lead, used his hand to tip Lovely’s head up, encouraging their lips to follow the movement of his own. A warm breath from his nose against their cheek gave a gentle reminder that they were in fact allowed to breathe, their inexperience forcing them to almost hyper-analyse their actions to avoid making even more of a fool of themself than they already had.

"Where should I put my hands?" Lovely half-wondered, fingers curling and twisting in their lap, as they melted into the kiss. No sooner had they thought that, the final wall holding back their inhibitions crumbled like a child's sandcastle against the rising tide when Vincent slid his hand back from their jaw and threaded his fingers into the hair at their scalp. Bringing them further into his air. Pulling and pressing, they curved around each other perfectly, the thin slicks of lip balm had their lips sliding almost too temptingly. Lovely gasped into the kiss as his fingers massaged away the fearful thoughts from their mind – just as he had promised.

No more thoughts. No more anxiety. No more anything but lips and hands and feeling.

Desperate for something to hold onto lest they be swept away like a unmoored ship in a storm, Lovely’s fingers curled around the lapels of his waistcoat, stroking the soft embroidery under their thumbs as the backs of their fingers pressed against the firm chest of the man they were currently kissing – a dizzying reality they had thought was far too fantastical to ever be real.

Before things could go any further, Vincent pulled back with Lovely following him instinctively, blindly chasing his lips until his hand slipped from their hair to hold their jaw again. To hold them back. As their vision returned, the room seemingly brighter and more colourful than before, they felt more than a little overcome by the moment, as they faintly noted the dusting of pink across his cheeks. “I'm sure I look nowhere near as radiant, ‘m probably a mess.” Lovely squirmed uncomfortably where they sat as their self-depreciative thoughts reappeared in full force, but could do nothing to dull the intense stare Vincent was giving them.

If Lovely had just a little more confidence in themself, they would have guessed that he was attracted to them, that he wanted to kiss them again just as much as they wanted to kiss him. That none of this was an act and that he could be their Prince Charming. But alas, none of that could ever be true. Outside of this place, they weren't "Lovely", they were just... them. Ordinary. Plain.

But him... he was... ethereal. "Is that a weird thing to think about a man?" They wondered.

“You seem like a natural," He asked, stopping their thoughts in their tracks. "Are you sure you really need a lesson?" Lovely's eyes dropped from his, and were trained solely on his now kiss-swollen lips.

"I did that? ...I did that."

Their cheeks grew hot as they looked away again. This man knew exactly how to fluster them without even a word.

"A closed mouth kiss to start,” Vincent declared rather breathlessly, bringing their attention back to the present moment, and to him. Despite his starstruck expression, he was immediately back in professional flirt mode, eyelids half-closed, he angled himself to better show off his profile, ready to seduce his way into to Lovely's heart. Although the more logical – more pessimistic – side of their brain reminded them with a sinking suspicion, it might actually be the contents of their wallet he was after.

"It's his job, remember?" They started to jab back at the little hope they had foolishly allowed to bloom, but his words caught them off guard. “To start? There's more?!” Immediately hating that their exclamation had revealed much more of their inexperience than they had planned, they buried their fists in their trousers, tugging at the seams, waiting for the ground to swallow them whole.

Vincent saw this and smoothed a hand over theirs, encouraging Lovely to release the innocent fabric and relax a little. “Sorry, I really don't mean to embarrass you, Lovely," he laughed apologetically. "Would you like me to continue? We can stop at any point, what we do with this time is yours to decide.” He sounded genuine. Lovely couldn't help but trust him. They wanted to trust him.

Nerves finally catching up to them once more, they felt they couldn't rely on their voice, so simply nodded in reply. Lovely decided that they did trust him.

“No. Use your words please, darling,” he whispered delicately against their ear. He wouldn't play with what wasn't his to take.

"When did he get so close?"

Heat burned their cheeks and spread to the rest of their face. It was normally accompanied by an uncomfortable churning feeling in their stomach, but that was delightfully absent. Instead, they were filled with an airy lightness that made them feel like they would float up to the ceiling without Vincent's touch as an anchor that kept them seated next to him. “Y-yes.”

“Good.” He smiled, his eyes and lips curving in unison, making Lovely glad they could be the reason for such a thankful expression, although the sight was at odds with their opinion that they didn't do anything worth any amount of gratitude.

Their lips met again, and this time Lovely didn't need the reminder to close their eyes. Tilting their head the way he modelled earlier had Vincent smiling into the kiss; they were a quick study, eager to please. Brushing his thumb over their cheek, he broke the kiss to nibble softly on Lovely's bottom lip, to which they opened their eyes in mild shock, and found they kind of liked it.

"Should I–" A hesitant thought was quickly abandoned in lieu of taking action and paying Vincent back in kind. Toying with his lip between their teeth, they pulled back to see how his pupils had dilated to almost completely swallow his pale irises, just a thin, shining outline that was still focused on them alone.

Breaking apart for air, Vincent took the opportunity to quickly scan the room, and saw that the crowd that had been milling around had mostly disappeared. "It must be nearer closing time than I thought," he concluded offhandedly, a smile gracing his lips as he turned back to the one who truly deserved all of his attention.

Lovely nervously rubbed their hands on their black dress pants, chosen specifically to combat the rather unseasonably cold weather plaguing the city, though they found them much too warm now with the very pleasant feelings rushing through their body.

“Oh god, I just did that. Wow. I suppose now's the time he kicks me out and sends me a big bill for his time...”

“How would you like us to continue this little lesson of ours?” Vincent posed the question, yet again disturbing their self-conscious thoughts as if he could read their mind.

“Huh?” They answered rather dumbly, not able to keep up with the pace of things.

“Would you like me to lay you out on the seat here and pin you down, or would you prefer to sit on my lap, straddling me?” Lovely's eyes widened so much Vincent thought they were going to fall out, making him rethink his approach a little. “Too much?”

“Umm.”

“We can close the curtains if you'd be more comfortable that way?” He offered, wanting nothing more than to stake his claim on them in front of everyone, but sensing their discomfort had him squashing down that urge.

Swallowing, Lovely nodded, grateful for the option. “Please.”

Vincent stood up and closed the curtains, ignoring the knowing smirks and hungry eyes of his colleagues as they continued their duties. The thick velvet blanketed out the music and sounds from the rest of the club, making the booth into its own little room, private and cut off the world. As he sat back down, Vincent asked again, "so what will it be, Lovely? How do you want me?"

They stood up, seemingly having already made their decision, but before they could take up their chosen position, Vincent grinned hungrily as he looked at them from head-to-toe, not even needing to tilt his head up at all to meet their gaze. He'd guessed they were nowhere near his height from how they were sitting, but now he had proof. "Oh,” he laughed, eyes creased in glee. ”You're absolutely adorable!" Vincent returned to his feet to compare their heights, noting that his new favourite guest barely came to the breast pocket of his waistcoat.

“It's not my fault!” Lovely exclaimed, half-pouting, thankful for the thick velvet curtain and the club's music preventing the other patrons from overhearing their frankly embarrassing conversation. Along with people's surprise at their age, they could never escape the jeers and comments about their lack of height, despite accepting it, they almost wished they were taller just to shut everyone up.

“I never said it was a bad thing," he conceded smoothly, stroking his hand up their arm, a tender weight on their shoulder, hoping he hadn't hurt their feelings. “They do say that lots of good things come in small packages.” Leaning in further, he lowered his voice to an unnecessary stage-whisper, “and I'm a really good thing.” Lovely flushed hot with the combination of his words and the mischievous wink he gifted them as he sat down again.

Teasing over, Vincent reclined comfortably, resting his arms along the back of the loveseat, letting Lovely set the pace of how they wanted the rest of this to go. He watched them hesitantly place their knees on either side of his thighs, perched high and leaning in for another kiss before a finger was pressed to their lips instead, blocking their advance.

A wave of confusion and disappointment shook Lovely to their core. "Game's over, I guess. “We hope you enjoyed the free demo." Should've expected as much..."

But before their posture could match how defeated they felt inside, Vincent gave them an easy smile, giving them hope for something more positive. "Oh no, this simply won't do. Do you mind?" He asked, hands hovering a careful distance out from their hips. Lovely appreciated the constant check-ins and shook their head, allowing him to correct whatever was he felt was wrong.

”You're the expert here.”

A gentle but firm tug was all it took to pull them down to sit on his lap as he shifted forward in the seat, leaving ample room for Lovely's knees to press against the plush cushion. Their calves sat snugly against his thighs and hips, as his hands rested just above their waistline – a gentleman, right 'til the end, even with their new up-close-and-personal position.

Seeing their apprehension of the unknown, he paused and firmly squeezed Lovely's waist, getting them to focus on him. "Don't worry, I won't bite," he reassured softly as he leaned in ever closer. "Unless you want me to." They flinched for barely half a second before registering the shape of a soft smile against their pulse. If asked about it, they wouldn't be able to explain why, but it soothed them, brought a wave of warmth that permeated their very bones and made them feel safe.

Once more their lips met, and soon they felt his tongue run along the seam of their mouth, nudging, coaxing them to open and invite him in, so they did. Being pressed so close together, Vincent's eyes closed in a mix of concentration and ecstasy as he smoothed his tongue over theirs, inviting them to a private dance, a slow bolero that was all curves and undulations. He taught them each step with aching patience until their movements were nearly as fluid as his.

Unsure where to put their hands this time, Lovely just opted to place them on his shoulders. Vincent seemed unhappy with this as – without breaking apart – he moved one of their hands and placed it on the back of his head. “Wow his hair is soft.” Getting the idea, Lovely brought their other hand to trace his jawline, their thumb brushing past their joined lips as they trailed it lower. They gathered that he must have liked this, as he moaned into the kiss. Lovely swallowed down his noises, as they made their own in response.

Filled with a newfound confidence as they hummed back, Lovely experimentally tugged on his hair a little, the soft strands slipping through their grasp. Vincent's fingers dug into their lower back, pulling the fabric of their shirt taut, not so much that it hurt but telegraphing just how much he was holding back as he growled deep in his throat

"He actually growled. Is that a bad thing?" Breaking off the kiss, Lovely pulled away almost immediately, opening their mouth to apologise for getting too swept up in things and hurting him and–

“No. No that's good,” he panted, smiling as he stared into their eyes. “I like that. Keep going. You're a natural, Lovely.” His eyes were glazed with what they presumed to be a very good facsimile lust – they almost fell for it – and his lips were slightly puffy from kissing them and it just made him look that much more attractive.

Moving in to kiss along their jaw, Vincent nuzzled in close, drawing soft noises from Lovely's lips, delicately following an invisible line that ended right below their ear. He pulled their hips in closer – both gasping at the sudden sensation – rubbing circles with his thumbs, his fingers swapping between tensing and relaxing as if he was restraining himself, resisting the urge to do something, but what?

Lovely's hips again rolled forward of their own accord, greedy for friction, fuelled by the need to be closer, but their movements were stilled by Vincent's hands holding them back. No matter how hard they tried, they could not get his hold to budge. Frustratedly, but not sure to what end, Lovely frowned and was on the verge of pouting when they saw Vincent's clear eyes looking up at them again, sobering them up immediately. “Oh. Sorry.”

"I don't think you wanna go any further," he cautioned. "At least, not in a place like this." Lovely looked around, only now realising that the two of them were still in the host club. They had genuinely forgotten where they were and laughed embarrassedly as they sat back on his thighs, again grateful for the curtain hiding them away from the club and prying eyes. "We can stay here, at this level if you're comfortable? Or you can leave, it's almost closing time anyway." Their eyes widened almost comically, but they showed no inclination of getting up or leaving any time soon.

“How long were we...?” They asked vaguely, fingers still twirling in Vincent's hair. His gaze fixed on their kiss-bruised lips, the way they curved around each sound and then became caught between nervous teeth.

He laughed, swiftly brushing off their question, guessing how mortified they'd be if they knew how long they had been in here. "If you don't mind me saying, I'd like to see you again sometime, maybe at a different venue, perhaps?"

Lovely's brows and nose scrunched in confusion, which Vincent couldn't help but find cute. “You work at other host clubs?” The only possible, logical conclusion, of course.

“No, you goof. I'm asking you out on a date." He ruffled a hand through his hair, unused to the kind of situation he had gotten himself into. "I get that we've gone about this all backwards, but I would like to, if you want to?” Gone was the master flirt, leaving a man, sat between Lovely's thighs, who looked just as nervous as they felt.

Lovely considered it for a moment, although they had already decided the moment he had asked. “I would really really like that.”

Vincent smiled in relief, thankful he wasn't the only one head-over-heels for the other. “Then it's a date,” he whispered as he pulled them in for another kiss. ”Just so you know, I don't normally kiss clients. And by that, I mean I don't.”

“Oh, so I'm special am I?” They smiled with the inferred compliment, feeling like a kid who had just been given everything they'd asked for on their Christmas list.

“More than you know.” Now they were glowing with a confidence they didn't know they could ever possess.

As they sat staring into each others eyes like lovesick fools, one of the other hosts pulled aside the curtain, politely inviting any lingering guests to leave as part of his closing duties. Seeing as that hadn't gotten their attention, he cleared his throat rather theatrical manner in a bid to disturb their moment of private happiness. The result was a success, if a bit overdramatic – Lovely very quickly slipped off Vincent's lap and over to the far side of the loveseat, eyes drawn downwards as if preparing to be chastised to the moon and back.

"Dearest guest, please do forgive the intrusion," he began, voice as smooth as silk. "I've brought the menu if you'd like to order something nourishing after your uhh... entanglement with our darling Vincent here. With one caveat, we unfortunately cannot deliver on any of the steaks as the grill has already been closed off for the night. You have our most sincere apologies for this oversight."

"Umm, thanks?" While kissing a host wasn't that unexpected – Lovely had read a great many novels and articles on the matter, as research – they couldn't understand why this other guy wasn't making more of a deal about finding them and Vincent in such a... compromising position. “And what's with this menu?” They thought as they flicked through the small booklet. ”A bunch of steaks, stir-fried tofu and green beans, lots of citrusy desserts, a carafe of water. Strange options for a host club... not that I know what other host clubs have to offer... but it's just– I dunno... weird?"

Vincent sighed, unhappy to be disturbed by one of his colleagues, though he was more annoyed by which of his colleagues it was. "Thanks, Porter, but that won't be necessary."

"What if I was hungry?" Lovely thought with a pout. “Though on second thought... the prices of these meals are probably extortionate. Yeah, maybe it's best if I do skip on that.”

With Lovely's attention elsewhere, they missed Porter's look of dawning understanding, as he immediately jumped on the chance to poke fun at his fellow host. "Oh, is that so, Vincent? Did you leave our guest wanting?” Taking a step towards Lovely, he bowed deeply. ”I do apologise for any... lapses in my colleague's duties, I'd be more than happy to finish the job if he's not up to it?” He purred, though not without shooting a cruel smirk in Vincent's direction.

“What exactly is he proposing?!” Managing to swallow down the squeak of surprise, Lovely stuttered out a reply. "N-no, it's– He was good. I mean, he didn't leave me w-wanting, I mean! Uhh..." Feeling embarrassed enough for a whole week, let alone one night, Lovely swiftly made the decision to run out of the little curtained-off area, leaving Vincent grasping for them as they slipped past Porter.

"Do you often snog your meals, Vincent?"

Clenching his fist, Vincent growled, his eyes gleaming a dangerous black before returning to their usual silver. "Shut up, Porter," he snipped back, watching as his Lovely hurriedly paying for their drink then speeding out through the large oak doors. He hoped that he'd see them again, that they wanted to see him again. With the way they ran away, he had his doubts.

"There, there, little prince," Porter consoled him mockingly, patting his sagging shoulder before being swatted away. "I'm sure they'll come back. I mean, who could say no to the Prince of Wonder World?"

Vincent's perfect posture slumped as he remembered that he hadn't introduced himself as such, his own title usually was the first thing that slipped out of his mouth in a bid to entice new guests, make them part with their hard-earned cash, and much more beyond that. But from the moment he saw Lovely, the prestige and grandeur didn't matter, they were all that mattered. He could be their lowly servant and he'd be happy.

Then the proverbial other shoe dropped and created a pit in Vincent's stomach. “Does Lovely even know I'm a Vampire?” He groaned, hoping Porter hadn't out together those particular puzzle pieces together yet. If so, he'd never hear the end of it.

#pinksparkl writes #redacted audio fanfic #redacted audio #redacted lovely #redacted vincent #redacted bright eyes #redacted frederick #redacted porter #and technically #redacted adam

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ant1quarian · 6 months ago

Text

Don't Keep Me Out.

That's Not My Neighbour Utmv: Dust Sans Edition.

CW's: You're going to be confined in a room.

UNLESS THERE IS A MASSIVE CONTENT WARNING, THE REST IS "DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT"

TNMN IS A HORROR GAME; EXPECT THIS TO ENTERTAIN EVERYTHING THAT IT DOES

Life was never perfect.

No, scratch that, life fucking sucked. It was the year 1955 and everything was hell on earth- For you, at least. You were pretty sure the rich bastards in society were loving their lives.

You drummed your fingers absentmindedly on the bedside table before hauling yourself out of your roof-fixated gaze, barely casting glances at the mould long since begun to crawl across your room.

Living in the timeline open to multiversal travel was not a fun time– constantly loud as people clammered around and rushed to their ports several hours across the city to warp to whatever universe they’d been planning their vacations in.

It gave you a headache, honestly.

You shifted over to your dusty, unclean window and peered out at Mt. Ebott, still standing tall despite the weight of hundreds of millions of people scampering about on– and under– it.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

You sighed, rubbing at your face as your hand briefly dragged along the white, painted walls that covered your little apartment- if you could call it that.

Your gaze slowly travelled across the sparsely furnished room before landing on a letter with an indigo seal (which looked almost akin to a biblically accurate angel and the Deltarune combined). You felt your face screw up a bit, dread as heavy as led weighing you down as you wandered over to it.

The paper was rough and carried that indigo shimmer (and vague electrical buzz) all important, government-official things did.

You already knew what was inside– very vaguely, at least. While the public may have glossed over it, you certainly noticed people receiving such a letter and then going missing days later, nothing of them left behind.

But desperation was a crazy thing, and with the date deadlines of your electricity, water and food supply being cut off steadily approaching? You were desperate.

Everyone in the Silverstone apartments were.

With a soft exhale of air, you snapped open the seal, not even blinking at the ambient buzz the letter gave off.

Your gaze flicked over the contents, taking in the beautifully scripted felon’s claw font used, making a quiet, disgruntled hum in the back of your throat.

It went, very vaguely (to your interpretation), like this:

‘We do hope this finds you well.

This is a job being so graciously gifted to you by the assholes ruling this shithole. We need help patrolling the border and you’re going to do this job. There is no choice. We are aware of how much you’re struggling. So prepare your shit and travel over here, we’ll get you suited up.’

With a snort, you folded it up and shoved it into your pocket, scratching at your scalp before looking around. The only thing you dared to grab (aside from your papers, of course) was an old, ornate knife belonging to whatever ancestor had left it to you.

You glanced around your apartment for one final time before turning on your heel and walking out.

Getting to Mt Ebott wasn’t too much of a problem- considering it’s the only way that traffic seemed to be directed towards.

Not that you were driving.

You dodged out of the way of rambunctious children- rabbit monsters, you think?- laughing as they scramble through the crowds with nothing more than a grumble.

Ew, children.

It didn’t take you very long to come upon the highly-secured transportation HQ, either.

You barely had time to hate all of the pristine richness being flamboyantly displayed everywhere before a commanding voice caught your attention- the intent clearly informing you that they were talking to you, specifically.

“Oi,” You looked over with a faux-cordial smile, practised from years of having to deal with assholes– only to pause when you laid eyes on glimmering pink-to-ocean-cyan scales and vibrant yellow irises staring back at you.

Oh shit they’re pretty-

“Name’s Aunkle. I’m the Warden around here. You’re the newbie, yeah?” At your nod, she displayed dagger-sharp teeth as a grin split her face, “Oh we’re going to have so much fun.”

And that is the story of how you ended up in the box Aunkle sorta just… shoved you into.

First day on the job, no prior information as to what the hell you had to do, nor anyone telling you where you’d be going afterwards. You flinched when the heavy metal door slammed behind you, swiftly followed by the sound of electronic locks sliding into place.

[ You have encountered your first choice. ]

[ Look around? ]

[ Mess with the electronics? ]

I would also like to clarify that the option with the most amount of comments in favor of will be chosen.

It is possible to die.

I may create a separate blog for this specifically.

You can also feel free to vote/comment through anon in my asks, if commenting is something you're not comfortable with.

Providing you don't ask for spoilers, any questions as to why something is the way it is, feel free to ask that as well ( You can also ask about characters, too )

#Arian's Rambles #Arian's Writing #Quill Writing #dust sans #dust sans x reader #tnmn #tnmn utmv #undertale fandom

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havocdream · 16 days ago

Text

Unheard and Unseen - Thirteen

Summary: Vintra and Hunter discuss recent events on their way to Coruscant, urgently trying to come up with a plan to cover up Vintra's illegal meeting with Arvin Haradan and to track down the possible culprit who leaked the intel about her flight off the planet.

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings: Swearing | Mentions of assassinations | Mentions of explosions | Mentions of death of children | Self harm

Notes at the end of chapter

Chapter twelve -> Jawa-brained animal

Masterlist

Half-truths

Despite the constant travel Vintra had to make as part of her role as a Galactic Senator, she’d never had the privilege of boarding a military ship. She assumed it’d be different from a private or commercial vessel, but her imagination failed to fully grasp the reality of what one of these ships was until she stepped through the hatch of the Havoc Marauder.

It looked larger inside than it did from the outside, with up to three distinct areas loaded with navicomputers, weapons, equipment, and ammunition. In the cockpit, the control panel spanned the entire front edge, featuring hundreds of commands and two screens in front of the pilot and co-pilot seats, displaying comprehensive data on the space surrounding the ship. Two additional passenger seats were positioned behind each pilot's chair. Along the side walls were energy feeders and data cabins, housing the ship's internal power processors.

To the right of the entrance, a narrow corridor led to the safety seats for transporting additional passengers. These seats offered more protection than those in the cockpit, with extra harnesses and secure fittings against the ship's walls to ensure stability during transit. The adjacent room was more spacious, housing two large computers on each side that received real-time updates about the status of various fronts of the war, military intelligence messages, database updates, and alerts on major socio-political or military events—like the recent bounty hunter attack on the Senate Building and the Executive Office Building of the Republic on Coruscant, news that Vintra was still unaware of.

At the rear of the ship were the soldiers' sleeping bunks, accompanied by a narrow locker. The final feature was an exclusive compartment for rear artillery, operated only by whoever was stationed there.

However, despite being a well-equipped and secure vessel tailored for an elite military group, the same praise couldn’t be extended to the orderliness of the interior. Vintra accidentally kicked food wrappers, nearly tripped on an attachment from one of Crosshair's rifles tangled in her sleeve, and her shoe heel got stuck in what she swore was a half-eaten piece of fruit.

But what provoked her fastest reaction was the smell—a mix of grease, smoke, sweat, and dirt that the ventilation system barely managed to purify. It was reminiscent of a pet food store in one of the sublevel districts of Coruscant's capital.

"Doesn’t this smell bother you?" she asked the clone behind her, covering her nose and frowning in disgust, fully aware that Hunter’s senses were far more acute than an average person. He tried not to roll his eyes.

"I’m used to it," he admitted with a slight, humorless shrug, as if it wasn’t that big of a deal.

Hunter, who had just finished boarding and closing the hatch, gestured for the senator to take her designated seat—one of the safety seats in the mid-cabin. Vintra walked through the narrow corridor with difficulty, trying hard not to trip over the many items scattered on the floor.

"How... can you even walk in here?" she muttered under her breath, shaking her foot to free it from a cable that Tech or Hunter had likely forgotten to pick up. Behind her, the sergeant advanced without a care, stepping on whatever happened to be in his path.

The ship's lights turned on, and the engine's warming vibrations made the floor and walls tremble slightly, signaling that takeoff was imminent. Vintra hurried to the nearest seat and sat down quickly, but as soon as she reached for the seatbelt, she found out there wasn’t one.

"This is an attack shuttle, not a first-class space yacht," he remarked sarcastically, leaning against the opposite wall with his arms crossed, clearly amused by her struggles with the safety protocols.

"You don’t say," she retorted with equal sarcasm, nodding toward the mess scattered throughout the hallway she had just crossed. Irritated by her inability to figure out how to lower the safety bars above the seats, Vintra shot Hunter an increasingly frustrated look, baffled at his refusal to assist her. "Well? Are you just going to stand there?" she pressed. He barely shifted the muscles beneath his eyes, his expression intrigued and suspicious ever since he had pulled her out of the room with Senator Haradan.

"You’ve got a lot of questions to answer, senator," he suggested, but Vintra found no humor in his comment. She stood abruptly from her seat, determined to fix the problem herself.

"So do you! Let’s start with the rancor in the room: how the fuck did you find me?" demanded the ederian as she strained with all her might to pull down the bar. It clattered noisily but refused to budge. The ship's thrusters began to hum louder as they heated up. "Rodova isn’t exactly a well-known planet; it’s barely on any maps these days," she added between light panting and futile attempts to adjust her dress while keeping her back turned to the sergeant.

"It wasn’t easy, especially since you were presumed dead for quite a while," his dismissive tone clashed with the gravity of his words. For a moment, Vintra almost thought she had misheard him, as if the news of her death were a trivial mistake in the morning reports.

But she remembered what the sergeant had mentioned earlier—information she’d brushed aside in her adrenaline-fueled concern over losing her deal with Arvin. Her network had intercepted an enemy message: someone had planned to capture or kill her. The explosion of a ship in Evadelar suggested the plan had been executed successfully.

"After analyzing some debris we managed to recover, Tech identified it was from a commercial cargo ship, incapable of reaching half the speed of light. Wrecker studied the level of destruction and determined the explosion had occurred less than five hours prior… From Coruscant, it would’ve been impossible for that ship to reach Evadelar in under ten hours; it must’ve been in transit for at least twenty-two; and according to surveillance records, you were still on Coruscant fifteen hours earlier," Vintra gave up on the metal harness, unable to find any visible lock to release it or an automatic switch to activate it. "So, we mapped potential destinations within fifteen hours of your location and cross-referenced them with the control station maps, eliminating those paths… Only a few options remained. When I noticed one of them led to the Jalor Sector, I was certain that was where you’d gone. It’s the only sector resembling Evadelar. I figured the enemy intel might have been wrong about the exact location but not the conditions, as both are infamous smuggling routes."

Just then, Vintra spotted a lever on the side of the seatback bearing a symbol resembling the safety bars. Without hesitation, she gave it a full turn, releasing the heavy gear above her, that would’ve slammed down onto her head, hadn’t Hunter caught it at the last second.

“Every ship leaves a trail that’s almost imperceptible to the eye, but with the right equipment, we can track it. And it turned out, the only planet those traces led to was Rodova. We found your ship there and then I had no trouble tracking your steps,” he explained behind her. Vintra had instinctively covered her head with her hands when she saw the metal bar falling toward her. At some point, the sergeant had crossed from the threshold of the hallway to her side to prevent her from being knocked out by her own desperation—though all that trouble could’ve been avoided if the sergeant had helped her from the start.

“Of all the squads in the galaxy, it had to be yours that got called,” she muttered, lowering her arms and quickly taking a seat. Hunter slowly lowered the safety bars, adjusting them to the ederian’s size. His hands brushed against her waist as he secured the sides of the seat. The textured detail of that part of her dress felt like a blend of cotton kisses and brocade dusted with fine specks of stones. The intricate weave in his skin created an unexpected sensation, as if he were accidentally bridging the gap of thousands of light-years between an insignificant soldier and one of the Republic’s greatest political figures.

“Well, all of this could’ve been avoided if you hadn’t decided to break the law,” he reminded her, his lips curving into a threatening smirk as if the whole situation amused him. And it did, as it was one of the few ways he could assert his authority over her. “Which brings me to my questions.”

After finishing the adjustments, he stood slightly above her, his hands resting on the two bars enclosing the senator’s face. There was no escape—not from the jolts of the ship at full speed, nor from the truth he demanded.

Vintra pressed her back harder against the seat when she realized how close Hunter’s face was to hers. She instinctively tried to put more distance between them but found she couldn’t. She didn’t know where to place her hands; gripping the bar would mean touching his, so she rested them on the edges of the seat beside her legs, doing her best not to shrink into herself to hide her neck, as if she bore there her darkest secrets.

“What are you up to?” he asked in a low, menacing tone that sparked an almost uncontrollable urge in Vintra to answer him immediately. The deep vibration in his voice felt like a natural command for her tongue to spill what she was most determined to keep hidden. “You’ve been dragging the stench of a secret since you recognized us, and it’s only grown heavier. Your vital signs now scream for help and regret, as if you’ve made a mistake.”

Vintra furrowed her brows, terrified that Hunter could see so much through her.

“It’s in your eyes, your desperation,” he continued, nodding toward the safety bars with his chin, “your constant swallowing, your obsession with glancing over your shoulder on the way here.”

She couldn’t help but silently curse herself.

"What’re you hiding from?"

It would’ve been easier to say what she wasn't hiding from.

“I know you’ve had… a complicated month on Coruscant,” the ship finally started to levitate, ready to leave the planet and enter hyperspace. Hunter didn’t seem to lose his balance with the slight shakes of the vehicle, nor was he worried about finding something to hold onto. Vintra gripped her hold tightly. “The accusations from your opposition are alarming, and your defense hasn’t looked very good—”

“Seems like now you’re a real expert on the political context,” she commented with irony, almost offended that her recent defeats were now being judged even by him. Hunter hardened his gaze, but Vintra didn’t feel threatened or intimidated by it; it seemed more like the clone was concerned.

“I wanted to make sure you were alive,” he admitted with complete honesty, in contrast to Vintra’s reluctant intention of doing the same. She softened her gaze at his confession, remembering how she had basically dismissed him when, in his words, his squad was called whenever the danger increased. “Is this an attempt to win back the Senate’s approval?”

Vintra held her breath, her eyes meeting his. It was true that returning to Coruscant wasn’t something Vintra looked forward to at the moment. She had spent a month with a terrible case for her defense.

Forty standard rotations ago, a terrible accident had occurred in one of the primary schools on Coruscant. A gas leak had caused a devastating explosion at the educational center, claiming the lives of several children and staff members. It was a case that shocked the capital planet for several days, with many media outlets and public figures using their voices and resources to support the grieving families and loved ones.

However, a few days later, the Senator from the Nemeda System boldly addressed the Senate, blaming Vintra for the explosion’s deadly toll. “Had we had infrastructures made with thusten, the explosion would never have left the kitchen area and reached the classrooms and hallways.” That’s what Astar Farwan, one of the leaders of her opposition regarding the Druad bill, had said to spark a flame that quickly turned into a chaotic fire of blame, accusing fingers, and endless speeches justifying Druad’s occupation.

Several media outlets supported Farwan’s proposition, with entire pieces criticizing Vintra for failing to look out for her own people by wanting to deny them access to a material that could’ve saved the lives of so many children, siblings, or friends. The public, which had supported her so strongly at the start, began juggling between their undeniable support for her peaceful proposal and their disgust toward her for preventing thusten walls from saving so many young lives.

Despite securing a lot of votes over the last two months, she was starting to lose allies due to the growing public disfavor every time her face appeared in a new headline or cover, still firm in her arguments for the liberation of Druad and her disinterest in acquiring thusten.

“I need something to convince the Senate that this bill’s possible,” she admitted, her voice barely audible over the noise of the ship almost ready to jump into hyperspace. “Something irrefutable, like the evidence that even the Separatist Parliament is willing to support it.”

The Havoc Marauder finally propelled into hyperspace with such a jolt that it destabilized Vintra for a moment, forcing her reflexes to release her grip on the seat and reach for the bars in front of her. Her soft, slender hands covered the thick, gloved and strong ones of the sergeant, who turned his attention to her involuntary gesture, though no reaction appeared on his face.

Vintra, with her cheeks flushed and her chest wrapped in shame, lowered her hands beneath his, her grip tightening on the metal that protected her. Hunter returned his gaze to her, and one corner of his lips lifted in a mocking smirk.

“Hm,” muttered the clone, curious about the mixed signals emanating from her like a short circuit with different origins. “Your words are true, but you’ve left out the ones that matter most,” he accused, certain that Vintra must be involved in something risky or shady to dare evade the truth in front of him, knowing he’d recognize her intentions.

Under Hunter’s outstretched arm, Vintra noticed another figure entering the room, with an apathetic expression and tense gestures. Hunter glanced at Wrecker but quickly returned his gaze to the senator and moved his presence away from hers. Neither seemed affected by the speed at which the ship was traveling, while Vintra felt that if she removed her hands from the bar, she’d fall.

“What?” the clone leader asked, his gaze narrowing but never leaving sight of Vintra.

“The Kinyen Senator was killed,” Wrecker informed both, although it was Vintra’s face that seemed to fall in horror at what she’d just heard, her eyes quickly moving to the large clone. “The rest of the kidnapped senators barely survived an explosion, and the Chancellor and company have already been freed and sec—”

“What are you talking about, trooper?” she asked in fear, unsure if she really wanted to know.

“Mavan Stent has requested to speak with the senator,” Wrecker ignored her, knowing Hunter would explain soon. The sergeant looked at him.

“Tell him he’ll speak with her once we land,” Wrecker nodded to his orders, and Vintra looked at the sergeant with evident frustration and confusion. “Get the others, we need to discuss the plan.”

The jolt of the bars from Vintra’s desperate attempt to remove them returned Hunter’s gaze to her, with little warning that Vintra might succeed. The ederian growled in frustration.

“I want to talk to my Chief of Intelligence!” she complained, desperation painted in the violet of her eyes. But Hunter remained unmoved.

“You won’t talk to anyone until we’re all on the same page,” the clone crossed his arms in front of her and analyzed her. “If there’s a traitor in the higher ranks of the Republic, manipulating the information about what happened today is key,” Vintra’s face started to paint with distress; the nonsensical news she’d just heard didn’t seem to have settled well. “There was a bounty hunter siege at the Senate Building,” Hunter finally explained upon sensing her fear. “I still don’t know the details of the operation, we were sent to find you when it happened,” footsteps were heard approaching them, and Hunter glanced at his brothers down the hall.

Vintra hit her forehead against one of the bars in front of her, causing Hunter to return his gaze to her in alert, surprised by the violence with which Vintra had been acting since they had met again. She replayed the clones’ words in her mind and created a fictitious scenario about what had happened on Coruscant that day. Why had they sieged the Senate? Who had been kidnapped? Why hadn’t Mavan contacted her sooner? Who would have betrayed her?

When the clones entered the room and Tech was about to speak, Hunter’s outstretched hand signaled him to wait. The sergeant’s furrowed brow towards Vintra reflected unease; his senses had picked up something different.

The squad sergeant didn’t like what seemed more and more like regret within Senator Selana, as if her entire existence had suddenly become a mistake, and everyone agreed with that statement. Something had her cornered, sinking her into a pit of guilt…

Was it the school incident? Did she believe her opposition was right? Did she feel guilty for the children’s deaths?

“Are you alright?”

The genuine and almost delicate interest came from his mouth, not wanting to impose more frustrations and moral burdens on her. A sad gasp escaped her.

“I’m fine,” once again, she dared to lie to him when she knew he’d recognize it. Vintra took a deep breath and raised her gaze to the clones. “What’s the plan?”

There were three figures waiting on the landing platform near Coruscant’s Federal District, none other than the Supreme Chancellor himself, along with his Vice Chair, Mas Amedda, both anxious to know how Senator Selana was and what news she was bringing back. Beside them, the Chief of Intelligence from Ederon, Mavan Stent, watched impatiently as Clone Force 99’s combat ship made its rough landing, eager to see his dear friend and finally hear the details of her important mission.

Mavan made little effort to hide his nervousness. He bit down on the skin around his nails with such force that he couldn’t stop tearing off small pieces of it, making the Chancellor glance at him with a mix of distress and disgust. But Mavan paid no mind to the disapproving look from the Chancellor, for the powerful man didn’t understand the true position Mavan was in with his superior.

He had failed to protect Vintra's critical negotiations because he had gone to an insignificant meeting with Admirals and Vice Admirals about a stupid, incorrect information leak. Because of his absence, chaos had ensued in both his intel network and the army’s, and the Republic’s top trackers had been sent to pull Vintra out of a meeting authorized by the Supreme Court—one that had likely been interrupted and ruined.

Mavan was sure he had never felt as much fear in years as when the ship’s door opened, and from the darkness inside, Vintra Selana’s copper-colored robes gradually emerged, until the morning light revealed her stunning figure. Behind her, the clone sergeant hurried down with her.

“Vintra! It’s such a relief to see you’re alright,” exclaimed the Chancellor, Sheev Palpatine, with a shy tone. He stood a couple of feet away from the ramp Vintra was descending, dressed in a luxurious set of ochre velvet fabrics that formed a thick, long robe with voluminous, curving sleeves and a high, sculpted collar that reached up to his cheekbones, almost like a protective cone. On anyone else, it would’ve looked ridiculous, but on the Supreme Chancellor, it gave him an imposing and threatening air. "I’m sorry for this terrible misunderstanding. Should I assume the negotiations didn’t go well?" asked the wise man with regret, as he walked toward her and offered his pale hand to help her down the last steps.

Vintra took a deep breath of the fresh morning breeze blowing across the open platform, surrounded by the typical urban sounds of the capital, and took the Chancellor’s hand in good faith. A confident smile appeared on her face as her feet touched the ground.

"Not at all, Chancellor, hasn’t the Supreme Court informed you yet?" Vintra responded to her leader’s concern, and a delicate pat on the hand holding hers tried to convey calm about the situation, although the Chancellor only expressed confusion. "Arvin Haradan had a health issue, he wasn’t going to be able to attend our meeting today... but he contacted the Separatist Court to let us know that he was willing to support the negotiations and present a Druad ceasefire bill in the Separatist Parliament."

Mavan’s mouth threatened to fall open in astonishment at what he was hearing, but he held himself back, remembering his manners as the leader of one of the galaxy’s most powerful factions. He couldn’t help but feel a wave of relief upon hearing that everything had gone well, and that his absence hadn’t cost Vintra dearly; they still had a valuable card to play for defense in the Senate...

But as he noticed how her nostrils flared every few seconds, and how her posture seemed to slightly lean forward, as if she were carrying a backpack full of stones on her back and pretending it was something she could bear, Mavan guessed that Vintra was lying. He knew her too well to not recognize those patterns instantly, but the most alarming thing wasn’t that she was lying, but that the lie was directed at the Supreme Chancellor himself.

Something Vintra had never done in her political career.

"... Isn’t that right, Mr. Stent?" The Chancellor’s voice, followed by the gaze of both Vintra and him fixed on him, snapped Mavan out of his bewilderment, unsure if he had managed to hide his reaction well enough to avoid suspicion.

"Sorry, it’s just that I’m so relieved this valuable plan hasn’t fallen apart," the ederian with ash-colored hair and sapphire eyes feigned nonchalance. His young but mature face always helped him hide the expression lines that would form when his worry or distress were too intense. "I assume you’ll want to discuss your speech for the next plenary as soon as possible," he addressed Vintra, eager to have a private conversation with her. Vintra nodded slowly and gave the Chancellor a kind and apologetic expression.

"Mavan’s right, I’m afraid I must rush to the Supreme Court to draft my proposals for the Separatist Parliament and my speech before the Senate regarding this incredible news," Vintra apologized for having to leave. "I know you’ll be expecting a report on the whole situation, Chancellor. I’ll meet with you tonight after Philo’s funeral, if that’s alright with you."

Vintra's large purple orbs were known to have a mysterious power of persuasion, if she set her mind to it with full intent. They served her as if within them existed two giant planets equipped with their own magnetic field—hypnotic and dangerous if anyone got lost in them for longer than usual, it was a one-way trip to her control.

Chancellor Palpatine didn’t usually give in to such clear manipulations, and he had all the authority to demand Vintra clarify everything at once, without giving her the time to surpass him in information advantage or keep him in the dark any longer about that crucial matter. The negotiations with the Separatists, the first to be formalized by the Supreme Court and a nearly winning card for Druad’s bill, were an event that he, as Chancellor, had to have complete knowledge of.

However, the harsh gaze Palpatine perceived from the clone standing behind Vintra stopped him from giving the order. Unable to see his alert eyes due to the visor covering them, it was as if the Chancellor knew the clone was closely evaluating his response, like a rodent gradually being led to a perfect bait to finally be caught.

He didn't understand the meaning behind that gesture, as it felt like Vintra was hiding something or scheming something. There was more behind the words she spoke.

"Of course, Vintra," he said after a moment of reflection on that predicament, curious to know where that sudden distrust and intriguing attitude would lead. "I'll see you in my office after the ceremony."

The confidence with which the Chancellor's hand touched her shoulder gave Vintra the impression that the Chancellor knew he had been tested. It wasn’t the gesture she had anticipated when the sergeant had suggested saying that. And she didn’t like having to unnecessarily disturb the most valuable political relationships she had, but if it was about hunting down an infiltrator, she had to trust the instincts of the man who had discovered that Luvid Stass was the orchestrator of her assassination attempts.

"I'm afraid the Republic owes you an apology as well, sergeant," the Chancellor said to Hunter, his expression wrapped in a halo of imperceptible signals for the clone. "We wasted your squad's talents on a mission that involved no real danger, after all."

Hunter had to acknowledge that the Chancellor’s cunning was worthy of praise. His intent to try to extract information from him made it clear that the Senate leader knew they were hiding something, and it involved danger. His apology was more of a warning.

"Better safe than sorry," replied the clone with respect, as if wasting his time wasn't a big deal. Although his tone was double-edged, more of a bounce-back to the warning made by the Chancellor.

Palpatine gave the clone a knowing smile, one that clearly warned him not to try anything clever with him. Vintra noticed the Chancellor’s deadly glare, a look known by all politicians as the signal to flee the scene, for it was the anticipation of a bloodbath.

Between the two men, Vintra’s figure and face intervened. "At least we can rest assured that the sergeant and company are the ones capable of finding the impossible," she softened the scene, with her gentle face and soothing tone, like a maiden defending a knight before the king.

The Chancellor fixed his fiery gaze on Vintra, which served as a lagoon to cool off and grant mercy. "Such a relief," the head of the Senate murmured with irony.

When the Supreme Chancellor boarded his shuttle alongside the Vice Chair and offered a final farewell to those still on the landing platform, Vintra waited only a few seconds before turning to the clone with suicidal intentions.

"Next time you want to be annihilated, make sure I'm not close enough to get stained with your blood," she scolded, her voice like the clash of iron, harsh and with sharp impact. Behind the visor, it was impossible for Vintra to know the clone's expression, who seemed to just observe her without any emotion. "You know where to find me."

That was the last thing she said before approaching an impatient Mavan toward her personal transport. Hunter relaxed his shoulders and let out a sharp sigh.

"Wait," the sergeant's voice stopped her, as he activated his visor's channel to communicate with one of his brothers. "Go with her," he ordered someone, immediately revealed to be Wrecker as he appeared at the hatch and, weapon in hand, positioned himself once again next to Vintra Selana. "There's still a hunt for you, and your guard hasn't returned," the clone reminded her while making it clear there would be no discussion as he crossed his arms. "If word gets out about your successful negotiations, rest assured someone will try to silence you."

Vintra held her frozen gaze on him for a moment. Although part of the plan was to consider that one of the presents could leak this crucial and threatening information, it didn’t take away the fear of not catching the imposter in time. From the corner of her eye, Vintra glanced at Mavan, a cold pang piercing her chest, at the height of her heart. The mere possibility that Mavan could be the traitor hurt, and it even sent chills down her spine to imagine a scenario where her old and trusted friend would take a moment alone with her to twist her neck and end her life.

Part of her had been unable to argue with the clone when he told her that Mavan and the Chancellor couldn’t be excluded from the same level of distrust as everyone else. Not because she believed they were guilty, but because she trusted Hunter’s instincts.

It wouldn’t be the first time that someone unimaginable to Vintra turned out to be behind her assassination attempts.

But Vintra also trusted her own instincts. It may have taken her time to believe that Luvid Stass wanted to kill her, but Mavan was as impossible as eternal life. There was no room for logic, and deep inside, she screamed with certainty that Mavan would never betray her, not even to save his own life.

General Windu's gaze hesitated for several seconds, unsure whether to turn into confusion or astonishment after witnessing what the sergeant of the Clone Force 99 was communicating to him.

“An infiltrator? Here on Coruscant?” he questioned incredulously from the seat across from the clone, who stood firm and at attention before the Jedi. The room they were in ascended to nearly the top floor of the Coruscant Central Command Building, just a few streets away from the Federal District. The walls of the place, in the hours of dusk, were bathed in warm artificial lights, bright enough to make out the large filing cabinet of classified reports in the darkness, and the touchscreen board that traced route calculations and real-time information of high-profile targets across the galaxy. All of this oversaw by the wise Jedi Master, who, in those days, was referred to as 'General.'

“Or a traitor,” suggested Hunter, his expression serious and alarmed, but confident in what he was conveying. General Windu, whose authority was emphasized by his perfectly tailored brown robes and adorned with his unique lightsaber, sighed in frustration. Hunter wasn’t a soldier who made mistakes in such accusations, and, in truth, it wasn’t hard for him to believe what he was saying.

What was difficult to accept was the clone's request to be reassigned as bodyguards for Senator Selana.

"I’m afraid this is a case that one of our Jedi Knights should handle, sergeant," the general confessed after a moment of reflection. "The Order has... suspected this infiltrator for some time now, an entire division has been tracking him for months," he explained, and Hunter was beginning to tire of realizing that everyone he’d spoken to that day revealed a bit of truth but hide the bulk of it. "Needless to say, they haven't had success," he raised his hands slightly to show how empty they were. Hunter raised an eyebrow.

If the Jedi Order had an entire division dedicated to monitoring the figures of power in the Republic to track down the traitor, and they still had nothing, it complicated things. First, because they weren’t sure if they were talking about the same person—there could be two impostors at play. Second, it might suggest that the data leak had come from their front of the war, not from the Separatist side.

“In my experience, general,” Hunter began, his purpose in that room being to ensure his mission was to protect Senator Selana, “if you haven’t found the culprit, it’s because they know how you operate,” he placed his hand over his chest to emphasize his figure. “My squadron tends to work with uncommon, hard-to-predict methods, and we have the advantage of knowing that this person is close to the few involved in the negotiations Senator Selana was having with Senator Haradan,” General Windu’s frown seemed to indicate that he recognized the points the clone was making, almost convinced that reassigned them to Coruscant wouldn’t be such a bad idea. “Besides, we have the Senator’s trust to take care of her security.”

His final argument, the best he had, pierced the Jedi’s core like a fine needle, leaking enough conviction to accept the sergeant’s request. Of course, they were a group of clones worthy of the most complicated challenges the war was presenting more and more.

But this was different, because it wasn’t an impostor he believed even they could face. And he wasn’t willing to sacrifice his best clone unit for the inefficiency of the Jedi Order itself.

“Why are you interested in this case?” the Jedi asked after a moment of uneasily observing the clone, on an exciting journey to try to decipher him. The question caught Hunter by surprise, leaving him speechless for a good while.

He hadn’t thought about it, as his mission to find and secure Senator Selana had already concluded. The fact that there was more danger lurking didn’t mean it was his responsibility to protect her. And yet, he felt like it was.

“I already had to turn my back on her once when she needed us most,” he confessed, almost without thinking about how to put his words. But as soon as he found the little sense of what his gut felt and his mind thought, there was no turning back with his tongue. “I think this is a case only my unit can handle, and her life’s still at risk… it’s not natural for me or for them to turn our backs on this kind of danger.”

And as if some invisible force was laughing at him from a higher plane in some far-off space but still alongside him, Hunter felt the vibrations in his head and chest from revealing part of a truth but omitting most of it.

I'm sorry I took a while to post it, I thought december was going to be chill but suddenly my job's important (booo) and I have to be responsible lol.

Thank you for reading!! I don't know if you felt this chapter short like I did, my excuse is that it serves as a bridge between the first scenario and the core of this current part. Once we press full speed we aren't slowing down! :)

See you soon! xx

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