#Luxury Directory

[opendirectories]

[open-directory-image-factory]

https://www.luxxu.net/images/

[khushwedding]

Luxury Wedding Cars and Transport Service Providers in UK

Discover luxury wedding transportation options from vintage cars to modern fleet vehicles from the UK's top-rated transport vendors on KhushWedding.

[blindmagdalena]

Center Stage in a Gilded Cage (chapter two)

18+ 3k. homelander x f!reader. pre-s1. stalking, kidnapping, imprisonment, forced relationship, slow burn, somnophilia, drugging, eventual smut. AO3 | fanfic directory

You’ve been hand-chosen by a god; plucked out of your meager, mundane existence and set delicately into the lap of luxury. Your every need will be met, your every whim and wish made real. By any measure, it’s a dream come true. A life safe from pain, from toil, and from the crushing weight of choice. In exchange, all he asks is that you devote yourself wholly to him.

“What happened?” You ask, voice frayed. Your movements are sluggish, hands rubbing the disorientation from your eyes one at a time.

Homelander catches his own reflection briefly in the mirror across from the bed–making sure he doesn’t have a hair out of place for this crucial meeting–before his gaze moves back to you. “Only the most important day of your life,” he says, feeling as though he’s about to tell someone they just won the goddamn lottery. He watches you rise slowly up into a sitting position, never taking your eyes off of him. He knows that you’re nervous–can smell it on you–but he doesn’t worry himself with that. It’s to be expected initially. 

“You just so happen to be the luckiest lady in America,” he tells you, putting on his most charming smile.

“What are you talking about?” You ask, your confusion deepening. He can see the tension in your body rising as well, the pace of your heart lifting to a rabbit-like thrum despite the molasses thick haze of the anesthesia in your system.

He laughs softly, lifting his hands in an encompassing gesture. “I saved you.”

Almost instantaneously, the tense line of your shoulders droops and your eyes soften in a way that erupts a wave of butterflies in his gut. You look nearly ready to fall back into bed with the weight of relief that moves through you, causing you to sway slightly. He feels nearly delirious with the giddiness of the moment, his fingers twitching, itching to touch. 

“What do you remember?” He asks, daring to inch closer to you. His hand settles on the bed, fingertips nearly brushing your blanketed knee.

“I remember someone grabbing me. A man. He put a rag over my mouth,” you say, lifting a hand to touch your lips. His gaze drops to follow the movement. He subconsciously licks his own. He’d been such a gentleman while you slept, but that hadn’t stopped him fantasizing. He cannot wait to taste you again. “It smelled like grass or something. I fought, but he was so strong,” you say, a tremble like reverence or fear in your voice. Maybe both.

When you realize that his strength is yours, you’ll never need to fear it–or anything else–ever again.

“And then I blacked out. You saved me from him?” You look up at him with wide, watery eyes and he could almost laugh at how cute you look, cluelessly putting together mismatched pieces of the little puzzle going on in your brain. The breathless wonder in your voice–the way you’re looking at him with such hope–makes his chest swell with pride.

You’re in for a real treat.

“Sweetheart,” he coos, lifting his hand to give your knee a gentle squeeze through the blanket. “That was me,” he says, his smile broad and proud. “What I saved you from was ever stepping foot back in that dingy little apartment of yours again. From that mind numbing mediocrity and the tedium of your mundane little life. I brought you home,” he says, gesturing out to his penthouse with a grand sweep of his arm.

A pregnant pause follows.

He waits, but you still don’t seem to get it. Your heart is thumping wildly with no sign of slowing, and that brief flicker of relief has disappeared entirely, the line of your shoulders drawing back up tight. A twinge of apprehension nestles in his chest.

“Well?” He prompts, his smile faltering. “Say something.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand,” you say, gripping the bedding in tight fists. “You kidnapped me?”

“I didn’t kidnap you, you silly goose,” he half scoffs, half laughs. “I brought you home!” He says again, emphasizing the word ‘home’ as if it will speed along your comprehension. Instead, you look more confused and afraid than ever. 

He sighs, dropping his hands down into his lap. “C’mon, you could show a little excitement, yeah? I mean, out of the three hundred and thirty million people in America, I picked you. Those are some fucking insane lottery odds.”

“Picked me for what?” You ask quietly, a rasp in your voice that itches uncomfortably at the back of his neck. You sound ready to cry, which won’t do at all. This isn’t how this is supposed to go.

“To be mine,” he says, and while he’s still smiling, there’s an incredulous furrow to his brow. 

“Be your what?”

His smile thins alongside his patience. “My–mine, my girlfriend, lover, sweetheart, my-my fucking paramor, whatever you want to call it,” he says, that charming facade slipping as his mounting aggravation with your incomprehension creeps further up his spine. 

Where’s your excitement? Where’s your fucking gratitude?

“I don’t even know you,” you say, moving away from him to the opposite side of the bed, sliding onto your feet without ever taking your eyes off of him. You brace your hand on his headboard, steadying yourself.

Homelander stands, taken aback. “Of course you know me. You recognized me instantly!” He says, circling the bed. 

For every step he takes forward, you take two back. 

He’s bewildered by your response: he’s a goddamn hero, the shining light of providence beaming down on America, and you’re cowering from his approach like he’s some kind of fucking pariah, shrinking back against the mirror when you hit it, cornering yourself.

“You know exactly who I am, and I know you,” he says, uninvited irritation slipping into his voice. 

“I know that you like to cook, that you can’t hold your alcohol, and that the best part of your day is the little sweet treat you get yourself after work. You laugh at bad jokes and you watch worse television. Videos about sad animals make you cry, even when they end happy. When you’re depressed you shop online and look at house listings you’ll never be able to afford. I know you, alright? Down to your goddamn skincare routine. So just calm down already.”

Fuck, he needs to reign himself in. He’s gotten too worked up, and you’re stubbornly not calming down at all.

“You’ve been stalking me?” You ask, gaze darting from corner to corner like an animal seeking an avenue for escape. The horror in your voice, in your expression, churns his stomach terribly.

Relax. Relax. Give her a sec. She’ll figure it out, coos a much more confident voice in the back of his mind. He closes his eyes briefly, taking in a slow breath, inhabiting that same confidence. 

Everything’s going to be fine.

There’s no other option now.

“It’s–heh–it’s a funny story, actually,” he says, forcefully lightening his tone. He wants you to enjoy this story. Hear the romanticism in it. “I was on patrol, you know, watching for crime, or danger, people in need of saving–I do that a lot–and that’s when I saw you,” he says with a slowly broadening smile, hands lifted towards you like you’re on display. “You were on your way to work, and you handed some homeless guy a box of–”

“John,” you interrupt, staring at him with apprehension.

Homelander’s expression turns stricken, not knowing why you would possibly call him that. In his underlying agitation, he sees flashes of a cramped room behind an enormous door the color of fresh blood. His hands felt so small beating on that terrible door. His throat constricts, and he barely chokes out, “What?”

“John,” you say again, visibly concerned by his reaction. “The man I give food to, his name is John.” Of course it is. As common a gutter name as any.

“Oh,” he says, the muscles in his face tight. It takes him several seconds to recover, blinking rapidly. “Yeah. Sure. Okay. So, you… Well, I saw you, and you were rushing, working, and you’d come home, rush and work again, and the food, you’d–” Fuck, he’s lost the thread. He feels like he’s coming unspooled, an awkward mess spilled out on the floor. This is not how he wants you to see him.

If only you hadn’t said that fucking name.

He brings his hands up, covering his mouth and nose as he takes in a deep breath, eyes closed. He drops his hands in front of his chest, palms clasped together. He smiles tensely as his eyes open back up. “I’m gonna start over. Hey, hi, I’m Homelander,” he says, slipping into his stage voice without realizing it, speaking the way he would if he was addressing a crowd. “I’ve been wanting to meet you for a while.”

He splays his hands at that, as if waiting for an applause for his performance. You don’t appear to be of the mind to offer him one.

“Okay… so you have been stalking me,” you say, pressed so tightly against the mirror you might actually crack it. He resists the urge to roll his eyes. You’re just working yourself up now, focusing on the wrong parts entirely. He assumes you’ll be more reasonable when all the adrenaline in your blood wears off. The smell of it on you is terribly sour. “And now you’ve drugged and kidnapped me.”

He lets out a terse breath. “I–mm, I feel like you’re missing the point just a little bit here,” he says through his teeth, heat prickling his neck where his collar touches it, the fabric suddenly growing irritating against his skin. “I was not stalking you. I saw you a few times, and I wanted to meet you. And again, you’re not kidnapped!”

“I’m free to go, then?” You ask, arms crossed tightly over your chest.

“Yes, obviously,” he laughs, though there’s tension in it. It takes everything in him not to forcibly uncross your arms himself. He much prefers how you looked in sleep, or when he observed you from a distance. This harsh, closed off version of you is making his skin itch. He wishes he could start the take over, the way they do when he’s filming. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. Ever seen Paris? Hell, summer in Italy is–”

“Home,” you say. “I’d like to go home, please.”

“Would you-!” His tone is too sharp, too loud, and he cuts himself off, but not before his volume makes you flinch. 

He sucks in a breath, bobbing his pointer finger at you. “You-mmm,” he hums, clicking his tongue as he continues to force calm into his voice. “You are home,” he says, giving into his impulse and taking hold of your wrist, tugging your arms out of that tight cross with ease. He pulls you behind him, deciding that if telling won’t work, showing will have to. 

Once you see it, you’ll understand. You’ll understand that all of this has been for you.

“Here, look,” he says, throwing open the door to the closet. Your closet. It’s lined with outfits he’s spent the last several weeks choosing for you. Weeks spent finding a balance between your aesthetic and his. You’ll have to match him, of course. He made sure that they compliment his suit while also carrying similarities to the color palettes you’re drawn to.

He spreads his arm towards the display, fingers twitching. “See? Yours. All of it–and whatever else you want,” he says, hyper aware of how delicate your wrist feels in his grasp. You may as well be a bird in his hands, hollow-boned and fragile. “The kitchen, too, it’s yours,” he says, gesturing vaguely off in the direction of it. His attention snaps back to you, laser focused. He gives your wrist a reflexive tug, fighting with himself to keep his own strength at bay.

“I did all of this for you,” he says in a low voice, pinning you with his stare. “Tell me you understand that.”

If there’s an undercurrent of desperation in his tone, he ignores it.

Your eyes are wide and watery, a deer caught in the golden headlights of all that he is. Your breaths come in shallow waves, and the terrible fear that radiates from you makes him want to shake you. Your gaze slides from him to the closet, flitting between the myriad of garments that hang in the closet. All in your size. Some of them are nearly identical to pieces you own, but manufactured by the original designer instead of a cheap knock-off plucked from a department store rack.

And still he can give you so much more. All he asks is that you love him for it.

There’s a tremble running through you. Your throat clicks on a dry swallow, and slowly your attention drifts back to him, sweeping him from head to toe, taking account of him in his entirety for the first time. He tenses. It’s a little strange to be so seen by you, but it feels good, too. He squares his shoulders, wanting you to see the best in him.

“Why me?” You ask quietly, your eyes meeting his. You still look lost, but what he finds endearing is the underlying conviction he sees. You’re always quick to move towards a solution. He likes that about you. He’s not sure what it is that you’ve decided, but it’s clear you’ve made a choice somewhere in your mind.

Because you’re like me.

“Because you deserve it,” he says, drawing you in at the same time he turns his body towards yours. “You’re underappreciated. Undervalued. You’re capable of so much more than the world gives you credit for,” he says, his grip on your wrist flexing. Every one of those glorified pen-pushers at Vought should choke for the way they ignore him, hoisting their agendas onto him while dismissing his ideas. “And you’re lonely.”

Your eyes widen a fraction. Bullseye.

Sensing vulnerability, he moves a step closer, taking hold of your other wrist. He offers both a reassuring squeeze. “You don’t have to be.”

Neither of us do.

“This is insane,” you whisper, but the inflection of your voice makes it sound like a question. Like you’re considering it. “You’re… You’re Homelander,” you say, as if that should explain everything you hold in your gaze. 

And I’m nobody, you must be thinking. Maybe you were once, but no longer. You’ve been elevated in the way only someone chosen by God can be.

“And you’re here. With me,” he counters, his own voice lower now, quieter in the intimately narrow space between your bodies, both hands wrapped around your wrists. There’s a flush crawling up your throat, warming you all the way to your ears. His thumb absently strokes your pulse-point. “Safe. I’m a hero, remember?”

“So, you’re not… going to wear my skin, or eat me?” You ask, voice filled with such dread at the notion he thinks you might have actually believed that was his intention.

He barks a laugh, shaking his head. “Alright, first of all, no more Silence of the Lambs for you,” he says, relinquishing his hold on your wrists to slide his hands up your arms, squeezing your shoulders. “Second, no. I’m not going to wear your skin. Or eat you.”

Well… Not like that. He can’t promise he won’t devour you, though. Pin you beneath the weight of his strength–he could keep you down with nothing more than his pinky–put his head between your thighs and trace his name with his tongue until you’re screaming it. The thought makes his cock throb, stiffen. He licks his lips subconsciously, glad for the cover of his cup.

“Okay,” you say, snapping him out of his daydream. “Then you want me to…?” 

It seems ridiculous to him that he would still have to explain it. He’ll blame it on the anesthesia.

“Do whatever you want,” he says, taking his hands from your shoulders to motion to the rest of his penthouse. “Cook, don’t cook. Read books, shop, get in arguments on the internet over fictional characters,” he says, swirling his hand in a vague gesture. “Whatever makes you happy,” he says, gaze drifting back to you. All you have to do is do it with me. “Pretty sweet deal if you ask me.” He offers you the sharp edge of a smile, leaving little room for discussion.

You stare at him for a moment that’s too long and too quiet for his liking before your eyes wander, taking in the rest of his room. The balcony beyond the threshold. The mirrors and paintings on the walls, the statues in the corners, the rich dark colors. Everything has been decorated to make the space feel grander, more open. No blank walls. No doors that lock. It’s his home.

And now it’s your home.

“Okay,” you say eventually.

His brows shoot up. “Okay?”

You look back to him, your expression difficult for him to parse. Despite years spent practicing and learning facial expressions–all part of his camera training–he cannot read yours right now. He would be more bothered if he weren’t so distracted by the spark of hope that flares in his chest. “Okay,” you say again, adding a small nod this time.

He exhales a breathy laugh. “Yeah? Yeah! Okay. Alright. Wow, that’s… that’s great,” he says, his grin wide and a touch incredulous. There’s a nagging feeling in the back of his mind, a sense of suspicion, but his elation smothers it. He had dreaded that you might face an adjustment period, be confused, that there would be tears or anger. You were really starting to get under his skin with all that talk of kidnapping.

As if he were some sort of common thug or criminal, and not a savior.

In his exhilaration, he cups your face suddenly. He feels your pulse spike in his hands, but his focus is solely on your eyes.

“I’m going to make you the happiest woman alive,” he vows with a soft gaze and an eager smile. He leans in close enough to feel your breaths on his lips, tempted to kiss you, but he stops himself. There will be plenty of time for that, and he doesn’t want to remember your first kiss alongside the acrid tinge of your fading fear. His thumbs brush your cheeks, learning the shape of them under his touch.

He’d been wrong when he first took notice of you. You’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

Sucking in a steadying breath, he draws away, placing his hands on his hips. “Now… How about we get you a little more comfortable for bed?”

( chapter three )

[fluentmoviequoter]

Only Choice

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader

Summary: You and Tim go undercover to catch a serial killer because you're the only choice.

Warnings: angst?, fluff, r wears a two-piece bathing suit and like halfway wears Tim's shirt, Tim and r makeout on the job (again)

Word Count: 2.4k+ words

Inspired by T-Shirt by Thomas Rhett.

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info

“Hey, gorgeous,” Angela greets as she enters the bullpen. “We need to talk.”

Tim sighs as he squeezes his eyes closed. “Lopez, I’m not in the mood today.”

“Who says I was talking to you?”

Tim looks up, his brows pinched. When he sees Angela smiling at something to his right, he turns his head to follow her eyeline.

“Me?” you ask, pointing to yourself as your eyes widen.

“Yep,” Angela answers. “Wade and I need to see you in his office. You, too, Tim.”

“You said you weren’t talking to me,” Tim argues as he stands.

“I wasn’t. Now I am. So, Tim…” She looks at you and enunciates, “Gorgeous, you’re both with me.”

“Okay,” you agree slowly. “But Lucy owes me $50. Don’t let me forget that.”

“For what?” Tim inquires.

“I bet her 50 that Lopez doesn’t know my name. The gorgeous thing feels like conformation.”

Tim grunts under his breath, but inside, he’s not entirely convinced that’s the reason. Angela is incredibly kind and funny, but she doesn’t usually say stuff like that just because she forgot someone’s name. Officer, sure, but gorgeous has to have more behind it.

“I thought you were friends,” Tim points out as he opens the door to Grey’s office for you.

You shake your head and murmur, “Not yet.”

“What do you know?” Wade asks as the door closes behind Tim.

“Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell,” you joke.

Tim sighs, lays his hands on his belt, and counters, “Know about what?”

“The serial killer,” Angela answers. “Targeting attractive couples in LA county.”

Tim shakes his head, so Angela turns toward you.

“Uh, just that he’s killing couples who are supposed to be traveling and then dumping them in Angeles Forest. Right?”

“Precisely. He’s nearly impossible to find, though.”

“Meaning we have no idea where to look,” Grey fills in. “Without knowing when or how he works, we’re steps behind him.”

“So, you want to set a trap,” Tim guesses. “Use UCs to lure him in for another kill.”

“You’re so smart, Timothy,” Angela applauds sarcastically.

“Lopez.”

“You in?” Wade interjects.

“Wait, what?” you reply. “You want to send us in as the UCs?”

Tim shakes his head as you point between the two of you. Angela nods, and you purse your lips to consider it.

“Why not?” you decide with a smile. “I’m in.”

“Does it have to be us?” Tim inquires.

“Uh…” Wade pauses to look out of his office and around the station before he says, “Yeah.”

“Only choice,” Angela agrees.

“Gorgeous,” you whisper.

“And smart,” Angela applauds. “He’s got a type. Pretty couples. And… you fit.”

“Tim, she called you pretty, say thank you,” Grey teases.

“I didn’t say yes,” Tim argues.

“Is Aaron still here?” you ask.

“I didn’t say no either,” Tim interrupts, raising a hand to stop you.

You press your lips together and lift your hands in apology. Angela is trying to contain a laugh at Tim’s offended reaction to you asking about another man who could pretend to be your significant other. You’re not a couple, but Angela was right when she said you’re the only choice. If the killer is planning to kill again, he won’t be able to resist you and Tim together.

“Where are we going?” Tim asks with a dramatic sigh.

“Santa Monica,” Angela answers with a smile. “Pack your swimsuit.”

“Is it going to be this awkward the whole time?” you ask as Tim drives to the luxury hotel.

“No,” he answers shortly. “Just…”

“You’d rather be anywhere else?”

“Tell me your cover story,” Tim instructs, changing the subject. “Stop talking like a cop.”

You sit back in your seat and look out the window, catching glimpses of the ocean between the beachfront buildings as you recite the information Angela created for you.

“And we’ve been together for just over a year,” you continue. “I even got my nails done because I think you’re proposing this weekend, but I’m not supposed to tell you that.”

“Good,” Tim murmurs.

“Tim,” you begin again, your tone more serious as you look at his profile. “I’m sorry for pushing. I know this is weird.”

Tim shrugs. “Anticipated my next proposal would look a little different.”

“Ow,” you hiss, playfully rubbing your chest over your heart. “Oh well, at least Angela thinks I’m gorgeous.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, but I like messing with you.”

Tim rolls his eyes, but you see the tiny smile he tries to hide. You’re here for work, but at least the view is nice. Oh, yeah, the ocean’s pretty too.

After adjusting the straps over your shoulders, you step out of the bathroom and back into your oversized luxury suite (courtesy of the LAPD and a need to get a serial killer behind bars).

“You’re in a bathing suit,” Tim says as he enters the bedroom, slowing as he looks at you.

“Great observation, Bradford,” you reply. “Did you forget why we’re here?”

Tim shakes his head and turns away from you. “I’m just saying… you could’ve worn a one piece,” he murmurs.

“Spoken like a man,” you tease as you pull a coverup over your head. “Try using the bathroom in one of those and then tell me that again, Tim.”

“Guy at the bar has been staring at us since we walked in,” you inform Tim over the rim of your glass.

“Us or you?” he asks, discreetly glancing over your shoulder.

“What’s the difference?”

“It’s a simple question. Men stare at beautiful women, especially at the beach. If he’s interested in you, just because, he’s not our guy.”

You try to ignore how your heart rate speeds when Tim calls you beautiful, but it affects you.

By the end of the day, you’ve noticed two men who checked in after you seem to be hanging around wherever you and Tim are. It could be a lead, or it could be a coincidence. You can only hope you learn which before it’s too late.

“I’m surprised you’re making progress so quickly,” Angela says over the phone the following morning.

“I told you,” Wade says in the background.

“Anyway,” Angela begins again. “How’s Tim? Tolerable?”

Tim is looking directly at you, and though he can’t hear Angela, you still feel like he’s caught you talking about him.

“The usual,” you answer.

“Remember why you’re there, okay? Keep us updated. We’ve got officers everywhere.”

“Thanks, Angela.”

You end the call and sit down on the couch beside Tim. It’s more exhausting than you thought, the hustle and bustle of pretending to be an in-love couple that does everything together. You’ve already been to the pool, the beach, three restaurants, and the hotel lounge and cruised down the PCH.

Leaning your head against Tim’s shoulder, you look over the balcony railing and to the water, reflecting the first rays of sunlight peeking over the beachfront high-rises.

“Are they running the men from yesterday?” Tim inquires, making no move to create space between you.

“One of them checked out this morning. The other came back clean and his reservation was booked weeks ago,” you respond. “Back to square one.”

“You sound surprised that catching a serial killer in a place this big didn’t happen overnight.”

“Because it’s us!” you point out. “I thought we’d break some sort of record and have the cuffs on him, be back in our own beds already.”

Tim smiles and stretches his arm out behind your head. Another full day awaits you, but you’d be content to spend it here.

“Don’t turn around,” Tim instructs as you prepare to leave the upscale diner he found for breakfast.

You nod, complying as he leans forward to wave for the check. He looks across the restaurant as he sits back in the booth.

“I saw a guy by the pool last night. He looked over a few times, but that didn’t stand out then. He was still at the pool when we left the lounge,” Tim explains.

“And now he’s here?”

Tim nods. “He fits the profile. White, mid-30s, completely unimposing.”

“What do you want to do?”

Tim smiles and takes your hand as he answers, “I want to catch him.”

You both know that two sightings aren’t enough to arrest him, so take a good look at him as you walk to the bathroom and then leave to continue your plans for the day. Everywhere you go, you and Tim are on high alert, noting where he is or isn’t, what he’s doing, what he’s wearing, and anything else you may need to know if this is the killer you’re searching for.

“Wait, Tim,” you call, pulling him to a stop in the hotel lobby. “He’s never been in the hotel. He wasn’t inside last night, and we’ve been back three times. I don’t think he’s staying here.”

“Or he just thinks we’re coming right back out. He can’t lose us if he doesn’t leave the door,” Tim points out.

“Maybe,” you murmur.

“We should test it, though. He watched us from the pool last night. If he was staying here, why didn’t he just come in where he could see better, hear us?”

“How do you want to do this?”

“We could try to lure him in.”

You smile as another idea strikes. “Or we ask Angela to get us a room at a crappy motel.”

“Why?”

“Because no one thinks twice about who’s walking around. The rooms are practically public, he could follow us straight to the door.”

Tim smiles as he pulls you closer, playing the part of the perfect boyfriend. He makes it seem effortless.

“Let’s get out of here, baby,” he murmurs against your ear.

“He’s following us,” you whisper as you walk down the beach, nearing your new, faded-aqua motel.

“Metro’s waiting in the employee parking lot. Your call,” Tim replies, pulling you closer.

You stop, keeping Tim close before you loop your arms over his shoulders. Leaning up, you brush your lips over Tim’s jawline.

“We’re gonna have to put on a show,” you murmur against his skin.

Tim drops his head toward your shoulder and whispers, “Then let’s make it memorable.”

“Keep it down!” someone calls from a doorway.

You laugh against Tim’s mouth as he lifts you onto the next step. He holds you against his chest while he steers you backward toward the door. When you reach your room, you lean against the door, and Tim drops his head to kiss you.

“We really need to stop doing this,” you whisper.

“Absolutely,” Tim agrees, leaning in for another kiss.

He scrapes the key across the door, trying to unlock it while keeping his attention on you. You reach down, steadying his wrist as you kiss down to his jaw. The lock clicks and Tim bends to hook his arm under your hips before he pushes the door open. Kicking it closed behind him, Tim takes you inside and leaves the door unlocked.

“Take your shirt off,” you instruct as you pull your coverup over your head.

“Why?” Tim asks, already unbuttoning the linen button-down as you wait in your bathing suit.

You shake your head and turn on the outdated TV set before you walk to Tim’s side. Once his shirt is off, you slide it onto your shoulders and haphazardly button it.

“Lopez, get ready,” you say into your wire, still attached to the inside seam of your coverup.

Flipping your hair, you mess it up before raking your fingers through Tim’s. He watches you, unable to decide what he wants to see more: your hair messed up, how you move in front of the TV light, or how you look in his shirt. Before he can decide, someone knocks on the door.

You pull your gun from under the bed and ready it on the door as Tim stands against the wall, prepared to cut the shooter off before he gets all the way into the room.

“LAPD!” the Metro team outside yells. “Put your hands up!”

Three minutes and one gunshot later, the motel is quiet. The door opens, and Wade follows Angela inside, their eyes drifting between you, Tim and the suspicious outfit changes that have occurred.

“Ready to go?” Angela asks.

Tim looks at you, hesitating, before you answer, “Yeah.”

Standing behind a police car, still clad in your bathing suit and Tim’s shirt, you wait for Angela to join you.

“Anything you want to tell me?” she asks. “Friend to friend?”

“Do you even know my name?” you argue.

She says your name in answer, then leans against the back of the shop.

You exhale as you prepare to ask, “Why me and Tim? You could’ve picked anyone.”

“The truth? You were the obvious choice. We needed an attractive couple. But… you were also making the rest of us tired.”

“Tired?”

“The constant pining. The longing looks. It got kind of sickening. So, when the case popped up, I thought maybe it would give you a reason to deal with those feelings, however you wanted to do that.”

“It was a good plan,” you admit softly. “Except now I’m even more confused than before.”

“You want a ride?” Tim asks you, approaching the side of the shop you’re behind.

You look at Angela, and she nods enthusiastically. After you agree, you follow Tim to a car and wonder if this is the best or worst night of your life.

“I thought you said we needed to stop doing this,” you say against Tim’s lips.

He chuckles as he pulls back. “Then why are you leaning in for one more?”

You roll your eyes and hit the light switch beside you. At least he waited until we got inside this time.

“It really was the only choice, you know.”

“I do,” Tim agrees. “But I will make Lopez pay for meddling.”

“Sure. I for one am just glad we’re finally acknowledging that we have feelings for each other.”

Tim smiles as he takes your hand. “Maybe I can forgive her for tonight.”

“Maybe you can also cook dinner tonight.” You lead Tim to your kitchen, release his hand, and walk down your hall to change.

Not that an outfit change will erase the vision of you wearing Tim’s shirt from his head anytime soon. No matter what, you’re both thankful for Angela’s meddling, because it took you exactly where you wanted to be.

[grandline-fics]

Immune To Your Charms

DESCRIPTION: Soulmates are incapable of harming the other in any way. Normally that would be a good thing but not when you're meant to be enemies.

WARNINGS: It's Doflamingo so it features mentions of killing/ injury/ general violence. Soulmate! AU, Enemies to Lovers

CHARACTERS: Doflamingo

WORDS: 2,543

A/N: Part of the Good For Your Soul Series. I had such a burst of energy last night and today I'm worried I'm starting to get sick which made getting this finished a bit of a struggle. Hopefully you all still like how this is going

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four (here) | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve(coming soon)

——————

Your mind was a mess and you had expected to find no rest at all but the second you’d sank into the mattress and head hit the pillow you were instantly asleep, your body unable to resist the luxury and comfort that had enveloped you. Yes you were a prisoner here in every sense of the word without it being spoken but in a bed like this, things could be worse and you knew that. If anything you had accepted the prospect of some dark, dingy cell barely big enough for you to fit in and a few thin, dirty pieces of fabric for a sorry excuse of a bed and blanket. This enormous living quarters had not been expected and even as you slowly woke from the deepest and best sleep of your life it still took you a few moments to adjust to the sight of it all and remind yourself that you hadn’t been dreaming. 

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes you let out a sigh, contemplating just staying in bed. You knew Doflamingo had said you could go and do as you pleased but did you really want to? You knew Doflamingo was a pirate, up to unknown evil of a wide range of criminality. Could you really witness it without being able to stop it? You were brought out of your thoughts when a knock sounded at your door. Slowly you looked over, expecting it to open but there was only tense silence. Whoever it was they were waiting for you to answer. “Come in.”

Timidly the door opened and a young maid entered. She was nervous, keeping her head down and hands clasped in front of her. Lowly she bowed to you and even when she rose, she kept her gaze away from your face. Not because of an order, it just seemed she was genuinely intimidated. Worried. “Sorry for disturbing your rest. Would you care for breakfast here or will you be joining the family this morning?”

You pulled a face at the prospect of dining with Doflamingo and his ‘family’ which you assumed meant the higher ranked members of his crew. Absently you recalled the woman Violet who revealed the truth of your and Doflamingo’s situation but honestly you hadn’t really paid much attention to anyone else that had been in the drawing room. The only others  you had a strange recollection about were the two figures that had been at the warehouse along with Doflamingo but it was too dark and you were in too much pain to really get a proper look at them before you’d fallen unconscious. Quickly you snapped yourself out of your thoughts and offered the maid an apologetic look. “Sorry. No I won’t be joining them.” You told her. 

It made you uncomfortable when she bowed again but she was gone from the room before you could tell her to stop that. You doubted she would listen anyway, if she didn’t act as she normally did she could be punished by someone. You didn’t put it passed any of the pirates in the building to lash out at the staff over the smallest of reasons. With a heavy sigh you dragged yourself out of the bed and made your way to the small table by one of the tall windows and settled down into the chair. Finally you allowed yourself to pull back the curtain and take in the view outside, breath catching at the expansive beauty of the city and spanning island beyond it. Dressrosa was indeed a stunning place, from up here in the Palace you couldn’t see much activity from the city but just like the upkeep of the castle you now found yourself in, it seemed orderly and clean. You couldn’t hear any violence or seen signs of unrest of some countries you’d seen over the years. It made your stomach twist to feel a sense of peace and calm. Could the people truly be happy with a pirate ruling over them? You supposed if the people knew it was a Warlord, protected and feared then there would never be a risk of an outside attack. You just wondered what it was Doflamingo demanded of the people to keep them safe from him and those in his command.

At the sound of the door opening you glanced in the reflection of the window to see the servant return, pushing a small trolley inside. Following behind was Doflamingo. Eyes narrowing you turned your head to scowl at him. You’d thought your decision to eat in your room also meant you wouldn’t have to see him either until you wanted to. Realistically you should have known better. Of course he’d appear when he wished and of course he’d choose first thing to start your day off on a sour note. Coldly you followed his movements as he tugged out the chair opposite you and relaxed into it, making a note to let your Marine file fall onto the polished table surface. Your eyebrows rose minutely. You weren’t surprised to see it, more that Doflamingo seemed to want you to know he had it. You offered a polite smile to the servant as she shakily offered you your cup of tea. 

“So how did my dear soulmate sleep?” Doflamingo chuckled when your smile dropped and you turned a glare his way. His laughter continued when you grabbed the morning paper from the trolley and opened it with a snap, refusing to even entertain the notion of small talk with him. With a flick of his finger, your file opened and he reclined in his seat, one arm lazily hanging over the back of seat while he sipped at his coffee. “Well you look refreshed, still you’d look better if you didn’t have those drab clothes you still have on.”

“Fashion advice from you? That’s rich.” you muttered under your breath. It was more to yourself and a reflex but the smug chuckle made you roll your eyes. In the odd sense of wins and loses you had with this man, it was a point to Doflamingo. “Your doctor informed me that my Marine uniform was destroyed after they tended to my injuries and this is what I was given when I woke up.”

“Well what are you waiting for?” You frowned at Doflamingo’s words and used your finger to lower one corner of the newspaper to see the servant bow lower than she had with just you and flee the room.

“What was that about?”

“They’re getting you new clothes. Obviously.” You opened your mouth to argue then rolled your eyes, knowing it was pointless. You couldn’t live in one outfit for your time here and you had no money to buy new clothes yourself. Sitting back in your seat, you lifted the paper again to continue reading. News of the warehouse explosion was there, tucked into the corner of a page and summarised in a small handful of paragraphs. Loss of life of Marines and some pirates had been revealed but no names. Slowly you turned the page. You stilled when Doflamingo spoke up.“Your file is interesting…” 

“You must be reading someone else’s.” You noted dryly, remaining casual. “Nothing spectacular in those pages.”

“And that’s exactly how you planned it to be.” You could hear the grin in Doflamingo’s voice. Yet again you lowered the paper to stare at him. You offered no verbal response to his accusation but your expression was trained into one of patient, confusion; waiting for him to elaborate in his theory. “No one rises in the ranks as smoothly and fast as your timeline just to taper off in the middle like this and remain there. Very sneaky, lying to your superiors. Did it annoy you to serve someone who by all rights should have been your subordinate?”

“Only in the cases were they were incompetent but I knew that would be a possibility. As long as the missions were successful I didn’t care.”

“Yet they took the glory. Must have stung.”

“If my vanity needed fed for something as trivial as glory or praise I would have continued to rise the ranks in the Marines, or become a pirate.” You explained with a smirk, seeing his momentarily glower at you. “Any other questions?”

———

“The weapons and ammunition are being unloaded at the docks and all the materials were delivered to Punk Hazard without issue, Doffy.” You heard a new voice coming from one of the rooms up ahead. After you’d showered and changed into one of the many outfits brought to your your on Doflamingo’s order you'd decided to explore more of the castle. If not to have something to do but to also get a better lay of the land. You stepped closer, making no effort to silence your steps. As Doflamingo had said, you weren’t deemed a threat to anything he was doing and the mention of Punk Hazard had caught your attention. You stepped up to the doorway and leant against the doorframe, eyeing the two men standing in front of Doflamingo. 

Doflamingo grinned at your appearance, finding your choice in clothing so much more flattering to your figure instead of your ugly Marine uniform or the rags you’d been wearing that morning. Diamante and Señor Pink had promptly shut their mouths when you arrived. They had been brought up to speed about who you were and why you were still alive. You looked at the two innocently even giving them a taunting little wave. Diamante glanced at Doflamingo questioning silently if he should continue even with the interruption. When his young master nodded, he spoke. “The latest batch of SAD is at the factory now to continue production smoothly.”

You pushed away from the doorframe as they continued talking and ventured further into the room, making note of the large bookcases lining the wall and all of them filled with old and expensive texts in a whole range of subjects. Finally your eyes roamed appreciatively over the stocked drinks cabinet and you pulled open the door to lift out one of the bottles of whiskey. You moved out of the way when one of the glasses flew out from the shelf and you followed its movement until it landed in Doflamingo’s waiting hand. His free hand gestured silently for you to bring the bottle over. Humming to yourself you poured plentiful glass of your own and walked over to Doflamingo’s desk. 

Your lips twitched in amusement to see Doflamingo still lazily hold his glass, waiting for you to pour the drink for him. You sipped your own drink, relishing the taste that only got better when you set the bottle down beside his arm. He could pour it himself, you weren’t his servant. As you glanced at a map set to the side of the desk you heard Diamante’s annoyance drip through his words. “The sooner you work out a way to undo this the sooner you can repay them for their disrespect towards you Doffy.”

“Such a fragile pride your Doffy has if not pouring a drink for him is too much to handle.” You noted sarcastically, pulling the map fully out from underneath the sheets of paper holding it down.“But I hope he finds a way to fix it soon too. Maybe your crazed scientist will work a way.”

“Who says there's a crazed scientist?” Doflamingo asked, grinning as he poured himself a drink for himself. He watched as you looked up from studying the map that had caught your attention to throw him an incredulous look. 

“A guy like you definitely has a mad scientist employed somewhere.” You smirked, looking back to the map. “If you didn’t I think I’d actually respect you less if that were even possible.”

“Doffy you don't need to let them speak to you this way.” Diamante insisted, looking to his leader. He’d literally burned a town to the ground for Doflamingo because he tripped on the street in his youth. He’d killed countless people for looking at the Warlord in a way he wasn't satisfied with. To witness you be so blatantly contemptuous without punishment felt so wrong to him. “I won’t kill them but please let me teach them to hold their tongue.”

“No one harms them, Diamante.” Doflamingo stated firmly and it was enough for Diamante to shut his mouth and nod. “No-one is taking the privilege from me. No matter how much goading they do, don’t hurt them. Make sure everyone knows. You two can go now.”

“Spoilsport.” You grumbled watching the men leave without protest. Here you thought you’d be able to get to the inner circle to be killed but Doflamingo seemed to know your game already. Clicking your tongue in annoyance you swirled your drink before a thought came to you. “What about poison?”

“What about it?”

“If I poured poison into a bottle and you served it between two glasses and we both drank, who would die?” You asked curiously, trying to wrap your head around the logistics of this whole soulmate nonsense. “If we both had a hand in it would we both be spared or both killed?” 

Doflamingo stared at you with a broadening smile, deep laughter building in his chest. He’d really underestimated your mind it seemed. So far you’d seemed so calm and collected, accepting your place here until he found a way to kill you. Apart from the disrespect you threw his way and constant defiance to recognise his authority and superiority, he’d yet to see you snap. To see you break in true anger, fear, or sadness was something he wanted to witness and at this point he didn’t care which of the emotions it was. 

“Sadly I think it would cancel out. I had a similar thought and poisoned your tea this morning and you didn’t react even though the maid poured it.” He explained and as disappointed as he felt that it didn’t work, seeing your own grumpy disappointment shape your face brought him some enjoyment. As he took another slow sip of his drink he spotted how your attention was taken once again by the map in your hand. “What’s got you so invested in that island?”

“I was stationed there for a couple months on a mission at the beginning of the year.” You explained with a shrug setting it aside. Even thinking about your missions felt like a different life. It hurt to know you’d never be a Marine again and help people. “You eyeing it up for an expansion of your mighty empire?”

“Not exactly.” He chuckled. There wasn’t anything you could say or do to stop him or his work so he could say what he liked. “I’m supplying weapons and foot soldiers to a local pirate group for them to take over. In return I get a profit of their enterprise and a share of the island’s natural resources.” At his explanation Doflamingo watched you process his words as you continued to drink, he noted something indecipherable briefly flicker in your eyes but beyond that you kept perfect control of your expression. Now he was even more determined to see what made you tick.

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

TAG LIST (If I've missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil

[weskie]

A Moment of Peace (Albert Wesker x gn!Reader)

this man needs a nap soooo bad, fluff | Fic Directory

You find him so very beautiful like this.

Wesker does not indulge in rest nearly as much as he should.  He takes only what he needs to function, and he does it quite well for the most part.  To the untrained eye, exhaustion never touches him.  He is a force to be reckoned with in every aspect of life, but even the man made god has moments where fatigue settles in despite his best efforts.  There was a world to perfect, a dream to make reality, and such goals would not come to fruition with his head buried in a pillow.

But right now, he needs this.  

You thread your fingers through locks of his hair, nails scratching softly against his scalp in long strokes.  You’re not sure exactly how you managed to convince him, but he’s been asleep on your lap for nearly an hour now.

Initially, he’d joined you on the couch in your shared abode.  You with your book, and him with his mountain of folders.  Incident and laboratory reports, he’d explained.  Trial and error with various strains, incident follow ups after staff exposure, costs, damages… more thorns in his side delaying his dream with every fool's mistake.  You could tell from the moment he sat down that he was running on empty, and no amount of coffee you’d brought him seemed to rouse him from his drowsy state.  The intermittent act of pushing up his glasses to rub at his eyes only grew in frequency as time ticked on, and you pretty much left him with no choice.

All it took was your fingers curling at the nape of his neck to soothe him.  Just a gentle touch, an invitation– wordless, but no less sincere– to shoulder the weight of his burdens and give him relief.

To your surprise, he didn’t even fight you on it the way he usually would. He wasn’t too busy, nor was there a thumb and forefinger placed at your chin while he gives you the same old excuse of another time.  He merely tossed the packet of paper onto the arm of the couch and shifted to lay on his side, cushioning his head against your lap.

He looked so strange like that too.  Like there was an air of repression to the act, like it was forbidden to him in some way or another to have the comfortable luxury of a lover who cared to hold him.

“I’ll make sure the world doesn’t burn without you,”  you’d told him, having just slipped the sunglasses off of his face.  “Just relax.”

It took a while, but eventually you felt the decompression– the way his body slackened and he became comfortable enough to rest on his back.  Not long after that, he was out.

And here you are.  

You take the chance to observe every feature, committing each detail to memory so that you could perhaps paint him picture-perfect with your eyes closed.   You’d like to run your fingertip over the curve of his cheekbones, or perhaps even the slope of his nose, but you fear waking and depriving him of something he needs so dearly.  He’s a light sleeper, and you’re amazed you haven’t roused him with your own yawns by now.  

Your left hand lays on his chest, just over his heart.  Each rise and fall has become its own rhythmic comfort, lulling you closer and closer to dozing off along with him.

You’d love to, but later… 

You wouldn’t miss the beauty of his serenity for the world.

[kkanabel]

caffeine addiction - chapter 7 Bakugou Katsuki x Reader / Coffee Shop! AU

directory/m.list

⇦ previous chapter - next chapter ⇨

words: ~2.3k

The photo you took with Bakugou was admired, to say the least. 

After going home from the show and taking a long bath to wash the day off, you noticed that your aunt invited you to a group chat containing the two of you and the Bakugou family. 

You were in your bedroom, sitting in a fetal position on your bed with your hair wet. You were in your twelve-year-old t-shirt that was four sizes too big for you. It had so many holes in it that if you wore it outside, people would believe you were a rat that was scurrying about on the streets. But you loved it. And you were damn adamant about never getting rid of it.

Taking a piece of your hair, you brought it to your nose and breathed in the scent of your shampoo and conditioner before sighing in delight. This was the best part about washing your hair. Even though you may look like some version of a wet mop, you smelled so good. This is great. You loved the time after a show. Your entire body would be tired and aching afterward (especially your feet after wearing heels), but the afterglow of going to one was always the best. 

The slight soreness was somewhat satisfying, and you’d be able to go back through your photos and relive the entire show again through your photos as you listened to the barely-there noises of cars driving past your window and the occasional hoot of an owl.

The group chat was then flooded with the photos of you two. There was a particular photo they focused most on, though– the one with Bakugou glancing down at your lips as you beamed up at him. You couldn’t lie. It was a beautiful photo. The outfits you two wore were well-coordinated, but it was overshadowed by the sheer chemistry emanating from the two of you. 

Your hands were placed delicately on his chest whilst his hands rested on your lower back and underneath your chin, angling your face up to his. There was a ghost of a smile left on Bakugou’s face while he was glancing at your smile. 

You let out an audible “woah” and left a heart message next to that particular photo. You were proud! It truly looked like the two of you were a couple, and the clothes were definitely a highlight of the photo altogether. The photographer did a great job! You didn’t know how the photographer/editor was able to make it look so much like Katsuki was going to kiss you, but you weren’t complaining! It looked great!

The actual moment you were taking that photo didn’t feel anything like what the mood from the photo emanates. That amazed you. The photographer was truly talented.

And then the bribery started.

Before the afterparty ended, Mistuki and Masaru were holding a conversation with you and your aunt about the clothing. You mentioned how you really wanted some of the pieces from the runway, and you were probably going to desperately search the web for anything similar.

Usually, pieces straight from the runway aren’t the same ones sold at stores. When looking at luxury brands’ stores, they normally have a refined version of the things they sell at stores. The point of fashion shows are to market the brand and to make a statement (whether it be about society, politics, or whatever else). Of course, it depends on the brand, but Masaki is a brand that uses its fashion shows as more of an art exhibition than anything. You, however, have a tendency to actually want the pieces directly from the runway. 

After you wore them for the photos, you just wanted them more. So, this was a way for you to ask the original designers if you could purchase their pieces in a… sly way.

You didn’t expect it, but Masaru offered to give an outfit to you for free. You were especially surprised since you were willing to pay thousands for it! They said it was a gift for their old friend’s niece. You were ecstatic!

Mitsuki, however, being the opportunist she is, decided that they’d give an outfit to you for a favor or two. And you, being the clothing addict, agreed to “anything!” 

This is how she was able to coax you into getting your permission for posting this photo to their official Instagram. 

It’s unknown how she was able to convince her son for his permission, but it was likely something ten times more sneaky. To you, it was a small price to pay for these clothes you likely would have sold a kidney for. After all, it was Masaki! Straight from the runway! Masaru even personally tailored it to exactly your size! This was a chance that only a couple people in the world could receive. You were fine with it.

In fact, you were glad that you had to just show your face to a small fraction of the public. It’s fine! It’s a great deal, in fact! What you didn’t expect was for this photo to turn the viewing for a small fraction of the public into one of a big fraction.

Either way, this didn’t become an issue until a bit later.

Bakugou Katsuki was back to his daily routine. His attention was a little more split, however. The joint group chat between the owners of Masaki and Kindeki was blowing up at almost all times of the day. The designers of the brands had jumped straight into drafting up ideas as soon as possible, and it was headache-inducing. 

Bakugou was tired of his phone stuttering out notifications as if it were a bumbling high schooler trying to do a presentation. Thus, during his time at the café, his eyebrows were constantly furrowed into an expression of sheer irritation as he felt his phone vibrate against him in his pocket every couple of seconds. “Why can’t those damn geezers just talk about this in real life!?” he thought, opening his phone for the nth time to check up on what they’d been talking about.

His mom and your aunt were talking about the Ham and Swiss Croissants from Starbucks. This was the last straw. He turned off the notifications for the group chat altogether, finally getting a break from the incessant vibrating of his phone. From across the counter, Ashido looked at him with concern.

“Hey, you good? You’ve been staring at your phone all day like you did in high school whenever Midoriya got a better grade than you on a test.” 

Bakugou gritted his teeth and bared them at the girl for her remark, but answered nonetheless. “My mom and her friend from college keep bitching about croissants in a group chat we’re using to discuss details for a brand collaboration.” He rolled his eyes at the thought of it. He was going crazy. Why couldn’t they just use their own chat? Why the hell are they talking about croissants!?

He was leaning his hands against the back counter that held his expensive espresso machine. His “baby”, as his employees would call it. He leaned a little too far back and burned the back of his arm on one of the metal attachments to the machine which was still dripping with boiled water. As he hissed from the pain, he started whispering a scary amount of curses under his breath.

Then, the door rang. 

Instead of you coming back into the café, this one little dipshit is starting to come in instead. Some people were moving into the empty space next door to his café. They were setting up a boutique or some stupid shit, and this guy was one of their people. He kept ordering the same shit you’d always order. A peach lemonade and some version of an extremely caffeinated drink, and some other shit. This time, the guy came in with a Starbucks bag with something in there that smelled suspiciously like those stupid fucking croissant sandwiches. 

Bakugou forced a smile on his face as he was handing the man his order. He could feel his face twitching with poorly concealed anger, so it just made the man squeak and rush out of the place as soon as he could. Ashido chuckled at him from the cashier, watching as Bakugou quickly reverted his face back into one with a deep grimace. Yeah, he wasn’t going to be working as the cashier at all today. He’d scare them all off, and he’s already intimidating enough as he is.

As of this point, Ashido was getting concerned. She could see a vein popping up on his neck from clenching his teeth and fist so hard. He looked a little constipated, to be honest, but she kept these words to herself for fear that she may end up causing that vein on his neck to pop in sheer rage. 

She genuinely hadn’t seen him this angry in years, and she was wondering how high his blood pressure must have been. After knowing him for so many years, she was sure that the croissant conversation wasn’t the only thing that was getting on his nerves so much. It couldn’t have been. Normally, when the part-time workers at his café would start having personal conversations in the employee group chat, he’d just calmly ask them to bring the conversation to another place.

That was a similar scenario to what he described. Two people he knew quite well using a professional group chat for personal discussions– it was basically the same situation.

There had to be a certain trigger that was making him more irritated than usual. She saw how Bakugou reacted to the man that just left the café, and she couldn’t help but think that he was connected to all of this. Hmm, he was carrying a Starbucks bag, though. Maybe that’s why he was angry? Because he brought a bag with the logo of a massive coffee corporation into his café? But no, the man was clearly buying the drinks from his café, which basically cemented the fact that his drinks were better. Bakugou would normally be proud of that. 

Ashido kept thinking to deduce the reason behind his actions. Playing detective for the source of Bakugou’s emotions is one of her favorite hobbies. Especially when the café isn’t busy.

Maybe it’s because the bag smelled a little bit like croissant sandwiches? There has to be another reason other than the croissants. There’s no way he’d get that angry just because of a reminder of some pastries.

Ashido was hyper aware of his actions during her exchange with the customer, however. Partially because she was worried and mostly because she was curious. 

Before Bakugou could even take a glance at the bag in his hands, she noticed him clench up when he asked for “an americano and a peach lemonade– both large.” She could have sworn that Bakugou also let in a sharp breath when the customer said that.

What’s wrong with buying an americano and a peach lemonade? Tons of people ordered those. Maybe it’s the combination of the two? She thought. “But (Y/N)-san orders these and he’s never angry at-” her jaw dropped and she immediately clasped a hand over her mouth.

She had reached an epiphany. "It’s definitely because she hasn’t been visiting the café as often!"

Is that why he was so pissy?

Was it because he wanted to see you?

Ashido told Bakugou he should go on a break so that she could process this information while he went to calm down. She’ll tease him about it after his blood pressure goes down. He’s also been clenching his teeth so hard that his teeth will start falling out if he doesn't cool off somehow. 

As she washed her hands (because she touched her mouth earlier), she had a terrifying cheshire cat smile on her expression. From afar, a customer saw her and squeaked a little. 

It was his break, but he couldn’t fucking relax. Maybe he should just leave the café to Ashido for the rest of the day to cool off at the gym. But no, he couldn’t. He had to finish the day, or else it would damage his gold, coffee mug-shaped pride.

He has to, even if he’s starting to sweat from how much sheer anger he feels. His head and jaw ache from being clenched for so long, and he thinks his palms might bleed if he digs his fingernails into them any longer. He desperately needed this break. 

He was very a little irked at the fact that he hadn’t seen you stop by his café ever since the show. You were a regular at his café, so why hadn’t he seen you since?

Was it because he scared you off because of the way he looked at you in the photo?

It sent his mind spiraling. "Of course she wouldn’t show up again. It’d be fucking awkward. She probably thinks you’re a disgusting pervert because of the way you looked at her. Fuck, you barely know her. She definitely thinks you’re disgusting because of that.”

As of this point, he was standing in the employee bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror again. He looked at the wall desperately, wanting to punch it with all his might. But if he did that, he’d probably break his wrist again. Not a good idea to punch a concrete wall like that one time. “Calm down,”he thought, using breathing techniques that his old therapist taught him. 

He hasn’t felt this angry in years– ever since Midoriya got a higher grade than him on that government test in his senior year of high school.

So, he went back to the counter of his café, making himself one of those hot chocolates that you helped him develop a little while back.

Before he got back to work, he went to the back and did some push-ups in the pantry while thinking of you. He’s going insane. Again.

directory/m.list

⇦ previous chapter - next chapter ⇨

[erikftglitter]

Fallin’ Out | [e.k] [one]

My & my boo into it so…

All she wanted was for him to be here. Why was that so hard for the older man? Was it his own limited childhood experiences taking over? Could it have possibly been envy? Did he hesitate because he didn’t truly understand fatherhood? Or was he just an asshole. Claire has been starting to conclude the latter.

So here she was muffling the sounds of her cries as her son rested on her chest. He was completely oblivious to the high tensions between both his parents, but even his behavior towards Erik showed him that love cannot be bought.

Erik is a provider. That is true. This could be the possible reason as to why Claire didn’t become apprehensive about becoming pregnant. She knew that Erik would always be involved in his child’s life and would provide well beyond what the average child needed.

The latter was true.

They lived in huge home located off of the lake. Owned many acres and had top of line views of everything aesthetically beautiful. His son wouldn’t need anything. There were already conversations and commitments to fine art extracurriculars, private schooling, and meetings with the top directory of getting Erin Makai Stevens the opportunities that a nepotistic child could only dream of.

What about now? Baby Erin was hardly twenty months old. In fact right now he is laying across his mother’s bare chest, as he just finished his feeding for the evening. Claire began weeping slowly afterwards, the mother in her allowing her child to rest before she could think about her own feelings.

She began to understand the hurt of housewives who longed for their husbands. She was not a housewife however. Erik wasn’t the only reason for this luxurious lifestyle. Although he insisted that he be the one to purchase everything, Claire easily had more than six figures at her disposable fingertips. She slept peacefully at night.

This particular month though Claire had been wanting to experience an authentic family outing. She planned this for weeks in advance. They would take Erin into the city and attend the pumpkin patch accompanied by the petting zoo.

Tangerine Creek hosted these family gatherings all month and Claire heard about the benefits of introducing your baby to outdoor activities and not to mention that it would be beautiful for her little family to have pictures that documented this year.

Erin was walking, slowly but surely, on his own. He’s vocal and his fine motor skills were only improving. This wasn’t a trip just to satisfy her urge to take aesthetic photos as Erik limited the importance of doing things with your child. This wasn’t the first time and now she began to feel the disconnect. While she was absolutely ready to submit to motherhood, Erik hardly knew a single thing about fatherhood.

So she sat and wept with her biggest joy in her hands. Distant footsteps halted her tears. He did not deserve to see her like this. She refused to let him see the heartbroken scene that existed throughout the nursery. She used a nearby baby wipe to wipe her face and controlled her breaths. She would not give him the slightest chance to throw this in her face and only to conclude that she was manipulative for crying and using the child to exemplify that.

Those were some of the foul things that Erik has said and apologized for. Claire was checking out and felt only the slightest touch of guilt knowing that a divorce would only supply another fatherless baby. So she sucked it up and rested her eyes.

Oh how heartbreaking this reality was.

Erik knew that something was wrong. No one greeted him when he entered the home. Instead his wife, his child, and his dog were all one in the nursery. They clung to her and hardly cared for his presence. He thought that maybe he was overthinking it but as he got closer to the nursery the weeping stopped. Silence was hardly quiet in comparison though.

He could feel the thick layer of sadness in the air and he wondered how long it had been there. Four hours previously he had cancelled his plans to attend the pumpkin patch, as he reduced the entire trip to a photo shoot.

Sam Wilson, a good friend and business partner of his, had changed his perspective within a two minute conversation.

“Hey man!” Sam exclaimed and embraced Erik into a handshake and hug. “My brother. I’m happy to see you in the flesh. How’s Claire? Postpartum treating her well?”

Come to think of it Erik actually never thought about it. Sure he was there and could see that she was fine on the outside looking in, but Sam began to share his own relationship with postpartum in his marriage. How he stepped back and supported his family during the shift. How postpartum depression could be as severe as post traumatic stress disorder and the rates of suicidal tendencies afterwards.

“Oh man I’m happy to hear that!” Sam smiled at Erik and waved the bartender down. “Don’t need Claire leaving your ass after I was Best Man in your wedding. You know that’s bad luck?” Sam chuckled at his own words but Erik felt something in his chest that he couldn’t quite grasp.

Why did it feel like Sam had a deeper understanding of something that he lives with? Had he not been paying attention? He did not become the top ranked government official by being clueless, but he knows that he clears things that he doesn’t find important from his brain.

Had he cleared Claire and her needs from his mind? What was the last gift that he bought her? What month was Erin in? How many teeth did he have? When was his next doctor’s appointment?

The more that Sam talked intensely about his involvement with his family the more that Erik realized that Claire did all of those things alone. So he was not surprised by the cries of his wife when he entered the home. Instead he winced at the idea that she was indeed all alone while going through this process and all she wanted from him was to attend the pumpkin patch.

Erik was brave. That was an undeniable fact. But he could not bring himself to open the warm brown doors to the nursery straight ahead. Sure he wrote the check to redecorate and furnish the nursery shortly after Erin’s first birthday, but he doesn’t even remember what he even paid for. Because Erin usually sleeps in his own bed in their bedroom and he’s hardly ever here in the daytime, he’s sure the boy only sees him as someone who comes and goes.

No wonder that mama was his first word.

Erik walked to the opposite side of the large home and Claire finally breathed out normally. She really didn’t want him yelling at her tonight.

Erik had been calling all over the state to get a petting zoo to come to his house. His fists slammed on the desk for the fifth time once the operator relayed that there was a three week wait for personal petting zoo visits. For once Erik couldn’t buy his way out of this situation and now he was panicking. He knows that his wife is going to leave him and suddenly the world of business over his family repulsed him.

What had he been thinking?

[opendirectories]

[jades-typurriter]

Secure Connection

As promised: more Posie!! I wrote this one toward the end of last Spring after a couple of conversations with friends regarding the malleability of digital bodies (as well as still having Many Thoughts about the way code can give them new compulsions, after writing something about Annie and a new taur-shaped chassis for a friend's Patreon). Enjoy reading about her dealing with a corporate-mandated "hardware" update!

CW: Genital TF, this is another one that's As About Sex as it can possibly be without being about sex

Posie sat, sulking—steaming, even—in her office. It was a small side room off of the main floor of IT personnel, system engineers, and other technical employees of her corporation. Much like a central server, it was placed for easy access to the department-wide administrative assistant, and much like a server room, it was snug, windowless, and awash with the calming drone and relaxing warmth of an array of exhaust fans. Though she was free to project herself nearly anywhere on the company’s campus, this was where her consciousness was housed, and where she felt most at home. It was also the only place she could get any damn privacy, a luxury that she was deeply grateful for at present.

A newly-downloaded file weighed on the back of the Renamon’s mind. More literally, it was somewhere in the racks of drives that made up her long-term memory, to and from which mission-critical information was transferred in the course of doing business. Had somebody asked where exactly the file was stored, she would have been able to list the specific drive and the exact directory address, but she had de-prioritized the allocation of her processing resources for the download. Once again, she had received an assignment from her superiors, and once again, she was hesitant. She may even have admitted to being recalcitrant. She resented the orders.

The package of data in question was an update for her own software, a suite of new tools to allow management to offload yet more menial tasks onto her in the name of “efficiency”. Forget that she could diagnose a software issue faster than any of the engineers could even open a remote connection to the malfunctioning device. Instead of allowing her to take the reins, they saw fit to divert more of her attention to the least impressive among talents, and the one she already put to use the most often: transferring data.

This wouldn’t have been much of a problem, ordinarily. After all, Posie resided in the beating heart of the network, the nexus through which the vast majority of information was sent and received. It could be… meditative. Parsing streams of ones and zeroes, overseeing the flow of packets, redirecting traffic to equally spread the load across modems and routers so as to optimize travel time. It could even have been considered relaxing, if a worker of her caliber needed to relax. Instead of offering her a vacation (pah!), however, the update felt more like it heralded a demotion, denying her even the ability to pluck like harpstrings the miles of copper and gold that lined her facility. She was expected to deliver this data on foot.

Management justified this humiliation with practical concerns: some information, much like the old records she was often tasked to dispose of, was so confidential that it could not be sent via wireless transmission. Even hardwired connections were too fallible for the likes of next-generation schematics and financial access keys—a single compromised workstation, or compromised worker, could spell the loss of the company’s upper hand in its market. She wasn’t even going to be afforded the dignity of carrying an external hard drive to the destination. That would require the slow and tedious process of physically moving from one place to the next; this was one of the only times that she regretted the freedom of movement that was so coveted by her flesh-and-blood peers.

With no room to make exceptions for security protocol, she gripped the edge of her desk, brow furrowing, eyes squinted shut in consternation. Eventually, she huffed, rose, and turned her attention to her “physical body”, summoning up the file in much the same way that one would approach a plate of food with a pungent odor. The Renamon steeled herself and began to more closely examine its contents. She read the raw code similarly to how one might read words on a page; however, where the turning gears of the organic mind would, almost unconsciously, conjure up an image as a result of those words, her mind kicked off a series of involuntary, autonomic processes.

Her body carried out the instructions on her behalf. Once she started, she had no control until she finally reached a stopcode; it was the nature of being a program herself that code had as much of an influence on her mind and body as her own thoughts, her own will. In opening the package, she reluctantly consented to the changes that management saw fit to make to her. It was better than the eventual forced-deadline sort of update that software companies were so keen on using nowadays, and at least choosing the time and place allowed her to make herself presentable again before having to face another person.

Having parts of her code—her very body—rewritten by the update was a strange sensation, not unlike having your thoughts dictated to you by an outside force. Stranger still was that she could feel the exact delineation between her previous self and the patches of… well, the patch. She could feel it quite strongly, as a matter of fact: beneath her skirt of simulated sky-blue fur, between her legs, she could feel her mesh being edited. Stretched. Reshaped. The vectors that made up the triangles of her wireframe soul were being rewritten, mathematically transformed. A shape began to protrude from the once-flat span at the bottom of her torso, at first round and indistinct, but quickly increasing in resolution.

The Renamon struggled to process the sensations as a long, slender connector began to take shape. This often happened with changes to her body plan; inputs streamed into her mind from directions, locations, that previously never sent any signals, and the new additions seldom had their sensitivity adjusted downward for her convenience. In this case, it was highly sensitive, delivering reams of data to the base of her skull just from brushing up against her own fur, or the gentle flow of air from the computers in her office. It made sense, given that it was supposed to be a high-capacity transfer tool, but she was too busy buckling at the knees and clutching at the desk behind her so she didn’t fall flat on her rear for the thought to occur to her.

Her processors demanded more cooling, kicking into high gear as they formatted the two new storage devices that accompanied the connector, tailor-made for packing confidential data as tightly as possible. The sound of whirring fans filled the room, stirring her fur and sending shivers up and down her back; she could only hope that the rushing exhaust made enough noise to drown her out, whimpering despite herself. The new drives were larger (and more unwieldy) than the ones that were built into her chest, much to her chagrin. She was forced to adjust her stance and her gait as she found her footing again, spreading her legs wider than she was accustomed in order to give them enough room.

The spinning in her head slowly settling down, she slowly began to compose herself once again, taking stock of the new additions. They were cumbersome, to be sure, and she lamented how they jutted out from her otherwise sleek form and burdened her with less-graceful posture. It didn’t even match her fur! The software engineers that had concocted the code had at least included one small mercy: a compartment for the connector to retract into, nestled in the fur above the storage drives. No such luck for the drives themselves. She supposed she would just have to adjust to walking with delicate hardware in tow. As she went to smooth her fur over her lap again, her paw recoiled away. Some kind of… static discharge was left in the fluff. A memory leak, perhaps? The fact that such a malfunction could be caused just from having the connector brush up against her fur appalled her, deepening her frustration even more. They couldn’t even test the update for bugs before shipping it out to her. She shook out her paw and finished arranging her skirt as best she could before working up the composure to finally leave her office.

Picking up the payload for which all this fanfare had been arranged was at least a quick, easy process. She stopped into the office of the manager that had assigned her the task; she offered a businesslike nod and, knowing that she was always itching to skip niceties in the name of saving time, he offered a straightforward wave at his personal terminal. She held a paw over the computer tower and, in the time it took for electricity to arc to her fingertip with a tinny zzzrt, she had already searched his directory for the relevant test files and copied them to the newly-installed drives. Wireless transfer, yes, but only technically. The engineers had specifically asked a member of another division, whose computer network wasn’t connected to their own; it was as though she had picked a folder up from his desk and walked out with it.

Moving the file was just as uneventful. It was far from the first time that she’d navigated the sprawling corporate property, and even if it were, the maps existed just outside the orbit of her thoughts, ready to be summoned to mind at a simple impulse. What she was not expecting, however, was the technician who was waiting in the server room to which she was asked to deliver the file. While she preferred to work in the isolation of rooms that were set aside specifically for hardware, she was far from unused to being in the presence of the other people responsible for maintaining the company’s systems. That said…

“Can I help you?” The Renamon icily asked.

“Oh, I don’t need anything! I’m just here to take notes on the transfer.” Her tone was cheery; evidently, she wasn’t aware how compromising the new additions were. “The time it takes, any obvious issues. I’ll be the one checking the files against the originals, too,” she concluded, hooking a thumb over her shoulder at a monitor behind her.

“I see,” Posie replied through gritted teeth. “You have clearance to see these files, then?”

“Well, they’re just dummy data, ma’am.” At least she was respectful.

“And the proprietary hardware I’ve been… equipped with?” she forced out, keeping her synthesized voice even.

“Oh, for sure I do. I designed it!”

Oh! she seethed. So she knows pre-cise-ly the position he’s put me in.

“Well. I suppose there’s no point in delaying things, then.”

“Ready when you are!”

With tense shoulders, she turned toward the server rack, eyes darting over it, searching for where exactly she was supposed to connect to the array. After glancing over the contents of each drive, she found the one she was supposed to copy the data into—deposit would be more apt, as it was her understanding that the files would be automatically flushed from her system—and found a port that would allow her to access it. Conveniently, it was around waist height. She wondered, crossly, whether that had been an intentional design decision by this engineer as well. As she looked at it, she felt a twinge from the connector; on its own, like a Bluetooth device automatically searching for signals, it slid itself out from its fuzzy little compartment.

Her skin was abuzz, and her fur stood on end. She couldn’t quite tell if it was coming from the connector itself, or if it was the feeling of the programmer’s eyes on her If she could take a deep breath, she would have then. Without any way to stall further, or to tell the leering young woman to take her test files and store them somewhere indecent, she simply pushed forward with dropping off the damned data.

The instant the connector grazed the metal of the port, lightning shot into it, through her body, and into her head, making it swim with electrical potential. A stuttering, lagging thought made its way to the surface of her mind: they really had overtuned the sensitivity. She stifled a gasp and suppressed the urge to lay into the engineer (electrons were eager to flow out of her even without proper alignment with the contacts in the port, and didn’t she know that discharge like that could damage a piece of hardware?!), willing her body to keep pressing the stupid connector into the socket.

Even as she tried to get it over with already, something in the back of her mind compelled her to draw back a bit. If she had been restraining herself from reprimanding the engineer for risking the hardware, then she should at least do it the service of ensuring she was properly aligned, shouldn’t she? She obliged the impulse, and the motion all at once became much jerkier, less controlled. The friction of the port against her connector was enough to send her tail snapping back and forth, and she could tell that the temperature in her own server’s room had risen by a fair few degrees. Back and forth, wiggling side to side, she continued to readjust and realign herself, driven by unfamiliar code and overwhelmed by the signals pouring into her. She lost herself in the task, forgetting herself, forgetting her surroundings, until finally the technician cleared her throat.

“Ma’am,” she ventured, blushing and wide-eyed. “What, um. What are you doing? You should just need to plug it in.”

“I’m.” Her interruption had snapped the Renamon back to reality. She was mortified, tail sticking straight out and back ramrod straight. Her cheeks burned mercilessly. “I’m calibrating the connection.”

“Calibrating?”

“Did you want your files transferred with or without corrupted and incomplete data?” She snapped, hoping that her authoritative tone would head off any debate. “Assign me experimental hardware and then ask me to be reckless with it, hm? Should I be taking notes to give to our superiors?”

“I—alright, I guess you can’t be too careful,” she stammered, sheepishly pressing her legs together. “That was even something I tried to work into the design, so, c-carry on?”

“Thank you,” Posie blustered, turning back to the server rack. She did so slowly, reluctantly relishing the feeling of sliding around within the socket. She allowed herself one or two more “practice” attempts, hoping that it wouldn’t arouse too much suspicion from the engineer. Ultimately, just like before, there was no use in continuing to stall, and when she was able to bring her body to a stop, the rational part of herself was eager to be done with this entire torrid affair.

With more force, she pressed the connector inward one final time, trembling as the latch began to press against the opening. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, she continued, overwhelmed by the volume of electricity surging into her. The latch gave, compressing as it continued to slide inside, until finally it clicked into place, securing her to the array of drives and finalizing the connection.

All at once, a torrent of data poured out of her, an electron tsunami that felt like it threatened to spill out of the socket in which she was hilted. More data was transferred in the span of a few seconds than she was used to consciously processing, having cultivated such skill in delegating and compartmentalizing with background processes. Once again, the world around her was utterly drowned out; the strength fled her legs, and she clung to the steel bar that reinforced the top of the server rack, threatening to topple the entire system. Her self-control abandoned her as well and, forgetting the engineer, she cried out with an airy, wild, distinctly foxlike yelp. She screamed in surprise, gasped at the deluge of information, moaned because there was no room left in her mind for thought to do anything else.

Quickly, the disks of the server rack had finished writing the files she had carried to them, and her own drives were thoroughly purged. In another building, the radiators serving her processors shed heat at their absolute limits, and fans worked overtime to bring her back within her safe operational range. As her overworked circuitry began to chug through the backlog of sensory information, the entire experience caught up with her—including the detail that this entire shameless display had been carried out in front of that underhanded little engineer. She blinked, hard, and whipped her head to face her. For as hot as her own ears felt, the young woman’s face appeared to be glowing even brighter.

“What. Was that.”

“Um—”

“I’m used to new adjustments requiring desensitization, or even adjustment on their gain,” she growled, voice low and eerily even. “But that was a bridge too far to just have been miscalibration. Why did you design it like that?”

“Well, y-you remember how I mentioned, um, having considered an early disconnection?” Posie’s frosty glare didn’t waver, so the tech continued, answering her own rhetorical question. “That was, uh, the safeguard. Against early disconnection. I, figured it’d just be easier to make it so you wouldn’t want to unplug—”

“Do you think you have the au-thor-ity to go making changes to my mind, young lady?!”

“I-I can roll back the update if you want—”

“I think you’ve done QUITE enough!” The Renamon declared, despite herself. Perhaps it was genuine distrust, or perhaps—perhaps she truly couldn’t tell which desires were her own, at the moment. This would require careful study of her own system files.

Another small click broke the silence following her outburst, and the dongle began to retract from the server’s port and back into Posie’s body. Now free to move around, she dusted and fluffed her skirt and leaned down to look the engineer in the eye.

“I trust that you can report to your supervisor that I performed to your expectations,” she hissed. “And that there will be no need for any further discussion of your little project.” The programmer nodded, eyes even wider than before—and cheeks even redder? The Renamon scoffed, sneered, and spun, storming out the door, already allotting time in her schedule for the next time that she would be called upon for such a delivery.

Utterly unsurprisingly, she had been correct in her assessment that her superiors would take every opportunity to save their organic employees’ time at her expense. Confidential deliveries became a regular part of her routine, and though she had great disdain for being reduced to a mere courier for so much of the workday, she insisted upon completing the task to her usual, lofty standards.

Posie was as prompt as she always was, dropping everything to ferry information between privileged parties, striving to reduce latency even in more analogue forms of communication. There was the occasional complaint about how long downloads took once she had finally arrived at her location, but she was quick to remind such impatient recipients that the decision to follow this protocol came from on-high, and that even for someone who worked as quickly as her, great care for the safety of the data was a corner that simply could not be cut in the name of rushing around.

She was as meticulous about ensuring proper alignment with the port, fine-tuning her contact with the wires within, as the first time she had experimented with the new tools, and complaints about noise from the server room were easily dismissed as the usual stress of supporting her formidable computational power. After all, she was often venturing out of the range of her home network, hosting herself entirely on the recipients’ systems; was she at fault when they couldn’t handle the information throughput they asked of her?

Once the deliveries had become more routine, and none of her peers bothered to check in when they felt it was taking too long or getting too noisy, she began to find enjoyment in the solitude of her work, just as with the other, admittedly more tedious, tasks she was expected to carry out. With fewer prying eyes to judge her performance, she could make herself more comfortable while handling transfers. She didn’t have to worry that anybody would walk in on her in the debased state she often found herself in while connected directly to a data center, leaning her full weight on the poor rack, tongue lolling out and chest heaving air to keep her cool. 

Then again, if somebody—especially that little technician who’d saddled her with these “upgrades”—wanted to question her efficacy, that was more than fine by her. Posie was a woman who prided herself in her work, and would seldom turn down a chance to demonstrate her first-rate hardware and unparalleled optimization. She would be more than happy to demonstrate just how quickly she could pump out information, and just how much throughput she was capable of.

Thank you for reading! If you want to see more of my work, you can check it out here and here!

[khushwedding]

Exquisite Bridal Jewelry Sets for Your Wedding | Jewelry Suppliers in UK

Find dazzling bridal jewelry sets and accessories from the best designers and jewelry makers in the UK. The KhushWedding directory connects brides with luxury jewelers to complete their wedding day look.

[baesimss]

lido marina village, brindleton bay, simmisota ✨

welcome to lido! brindleton bay's premiere shopping outlets. filled with stylish boutiques, fine eateries and even a gym. locals and tourists love coming here for the chic and relaxed ambience.

guys, this is my most ambitious build project thus far. i've never referred to myself as a builder, but i am proud of the work i've put into this! it's, of course, based on the very real lido marina village in newport beach, california. definitely one of my favorite places in cali so it was a joy to bring it to life in my game!

more pictures + directory under the cut.

shops, eateries & more:

nobu | michelin star rated japanese restaurant. inspired by the real nobu at lido marina village.

curl fitness | a private members-only gym. inspired by the real curl fitness at lido marina village.

loveshackfancy | a women's clothing boutique that specializes in romantic and floral designs. inspired by the real loveshackfancy at lido marina village.

therealreal | a luxury consignment boutique. inspired by the real therealreal at lido marina village.

floral selfie wall | a place for sims to pose for pics! inspired by the real floral wall at lido marina village.

skating rink | a fun activity for kids (or any age sims) to partake in while their parents shop. there is no skating rink at the real lido marina village.

public restrooms with vending machines & water fountains.

kimber | luxury furniture store. inspired by serena + lily at lido marina village.

roller rabbit | a whimsical children's boutique. inspired by the real roller rabbit at lido marina village, except the real store doesn't cater specifically to children.

tress salon | a hair & nail salon for the bougie sims. inspired by the real tress salon at lido marina village.

lido bookstore & coffee shop | coffee shop with a bookstore upstairs and outdoor areas to eat and read. there is a real bookstore at lido marina village, but mine isn't really based on that one.

twitter | tiktok | instagram| patreon

[ruanbaijie]

During the Republican Era, Shen Zhiheng, a member of the Tianjin gentry who happened to be a vampire, offended the Japanese and became the target of an assassination attempt. He was saved by a blind young lady, Mi Lan, and his best friend Situ Weilian. When he went to repay Mi Lan for saving him, he discovered the terrible family situation that Mi Lan was in, and so began to pay more attention to her. Meanwhile, Shen Zhiheng’s plan to take revenge on Li Yingliang, the mastermind behind his assassination, fell short of success thanks to Li Yingliang’s Japanese superior, raising suspicions about his identity. Since then, Li Yingliang and the Japanese were in hot pursuit of Shen Zhiheng, determined to dig out the truth about his secret.

Please do not repost this anywhere else or retranslate it!

MAIN DIRECTORY ☾ READ ON AO3 ☾ PREVIOUS CHAPTER

The journey from Tianjin to Nanjing, and then from Nanjing to Shanghai, was to Shen Zhiheng, like a chaotic nightmare.

Mi Lan continued to burn with a high fever in his arms. Occasionally, she would be clear-headed for a short while. She neither ate nor drank, and didn't even ask where she was. When Shen Zhiheng asked how she felt, she only said that it did not hurt. By the time the train arrived in Nanjing, her throat was so hoarse that she could not even say the three words “it doesn’t hurt”.

In his arms was Mi Lan, who despite being on the verge of death, still had to comfort him by saying “it doesn’t hurt”, while beside him was Situ Weilian, who was grinning as if nothing had happened. He only felt like everything had been turned upside down, as if he were in a dream; Mi Lan who was alive was about to die, while the Weilian before him was no longer Weilian.

Late at night on that same day, Shen Zhiheng reached his house in Shanghai.

Before reaching, he had first sent Mi Lan to the hospital. Mi Lan’s wound had already worsened and was festering, and her forehead was burning hot. Without enough time to make any other choice, after getting off the train, he had hugged Mi Lan, and like a drowning man grasping at straws, he had rushed to the nearest hospital. Fortunately, this hospital was not small and was not some subpar hospital. The doctors were also zealous, and had immediately arranged an operation for Mi Lan. 

After learning that Mi Lan had escaped from the jaws of death, Shen Zhiheng had dragged the large tail that was Situ Weilian and had hastily returned home. His house here was located in the French concession zone. In Shanghai, the Japanese did not have that much influence yet. In addition, the French concession zone was the territory of the French, so compared to the dangerous circumstances in Tianjin, it could be said that Shen Zhiheng was now doubly protected.

The house was a small two-story Western-style house. It was new, and since its doors and windows were usually closed tight, it contained neither dust nor human life. After entering, Shen Zhiheng first turned on the light. The light was a large luxurious crystal chandelier, shining so radiantly that every corner was filled with brilliant light and vibrant colours, truly painting an atmosphere of cold and cheerless wealth. This atmosphere was originally one that Shen Zhiheng had grown used to and had even grown tired of. These recent years, he had lived so swimmingly, his social circles all filled with the likes of politicians, plutocrats, investors, and even the wealthy literati who had both fame and fortune; he had almost believed that his life would forever be filled with peace and splendour.

However, as he looked around his surroundings now, he suddenly felt strangely disoriented, as if he had fallen into another dream. The dungeon, the massacre, the rainy night, the pursuit… different scenes took turns to flash before his eyes. He did not know if his peace and splendour could still continue, he only knew that Mi Lan was in the hospital, clinging on to life, and he also knew that Situ Weilian…

When his thoughts touched upon Situ Weilian, it felt as if his fingertips had touched fire. He shivered, as if his entire soul had been scalded. He turned around slowly to face Situ Weilian, seeing the dishevelled youth before him, with his bloodless face and two hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket, his greasy curls plastered to his scalp. His expression, however, was one of light-heartedness. When he saw Shen Zhiheng look at him, he smiled back at him with half-closed eyes.

Situ Weilian was smiling, but he was not. Under his heavy black eyebrows, his gaze only held a speck of cold light.

Shen Zhiheng was playing a waiting game, so after the two of them stared at each other for a while, in the end, it was Situ Weilian who could not continue smiling and had to admit defeat.

“What? Do you want to settle the final score with me? I’m not scared of settling, it’s not like I bear you any ill will. But before settling the final score, I suggest that we both take a bath. If not, we’ll disgust each other with our stench and won’t be able to talk.”

Shen Zhiheng admitted that what Situ Weilian had just said was reasonable. He really ought to wash himself up, or with such a dishevelled appearance, he wouldn’t have the confidence to negotiate with Situ Weilian.

“Go,” he said. “Then wait in the study for me.”

Situ Weilian was familiar with the location of the bathroom. He made a sound of agreement, and jogged the short distance there. Turning his head to look at his receding figure, Shen Zhiheng realised for the first time that he really lacked humanity.

Originally, he had believed that this young brat was merely thoughtless.

He strode up the stairs, where there was another bathroom. He was used to being decent, and now that he sniffed the stench on his body, he also felt that he could no longer endure it.

After taking a bath, Situ Weilian found a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of long pants and put them on, and then walked to the study.

The study was located at the end of the corridor on the first floor. On a pleasant day when the sun was shining, when the windows were opened, there would be flowers and trees outside, and the atmosphere would probably be quite good. Situ Weilian stuffed both of his hands into the pockets of his pants, looking at the large bookshelf that covered the entire wall. Not finding any interesting book, he walked to the back of the desk and sat himself down onto the black leather sofa chair there. It felt quite comfortable, but that was just about it.

Everything was quite interesting, and everything was also “just about it”. Everyone had a passion they were obsessed with, while he did not. He always had a three minute passion [1] for everything , but he did always quite like money. He always extended his hand to Shen Zhiheng asking for it, but, actually, neither was he very passionate about money. When he received it, he would spend it, never accumulating it. When he spent it, he would ask for it again, and if he did not receive it, he would feel suffocated.

Besides money, what else would allow him to grow a long-lasting love? Ah, there was a beautiful woman, he had loved her one-sidedly for a very long time. Now, that flame of love was still burning; she was the beautiful Second Young Mistress Jin. The second he thought of Second Young Mistress Jin’s affecting frowns and smiles, a smile bubbled onto his face, as if she were sitting right before his eyes.

However, the room door opened, and the person who walked in front of his eyes was Shen Zhiheng.

Shen Zhiheng was dressed in a dark changshan, his hair meticulously combed.

Situ Weilian did not get up, sneering at him from behind the desk, “Shen-xiong, from now on, should I call you ‘da-ge’ [2] instead? Today, the two of us brothers have recognised and acknowledged one another. Aren’t you happy?”

Although he knew that Shen Zhiheng wanted to “settle the final score” with him, he was truly quite happy. In the past, he had planned about the timing to come clean to Shen Zhiheng about his identity, but the more he planned, he could never quite figure out a good day, and now that the truth had finally been revealed, it actually saved him the trouble of planning it. After getting along for three years, he was fairly satisfied with this older brother. He had both status and wealth, and was qualified enough to be his older brother.

While Situ Weilian sneered, Shen Zhiheng said, “Why did you lie to me?”

Situ Weilian lifted his hand and caught his curly hair. “At the beginning, I didn’t know if you were a good or bad person, and I wanted to study you first. In the end, once I started studying you… I lost track of time… but in my heart, I’ve long acknowledged you as my older brother.” At this point, he looked at Shen Zhiheng gleefully. “These three years, you’re the one who has treated me the best.”

Shen Zhiheng stared at him fixedly. “You clearly knew that I’ve always been looking for you. I’ve been looking for you for not just three years; I started looking for you a very long time ago. I’ve gone far and wide just to look for you. You knew all of this, but yet you didn’t say anything. You hid it from me.”

He nodded at Situ Weilian. “If not for how you want to stop me from seeking revenge this time, you would continue hiding it from me, continue watching as I look for you everywhere, wouldn’t you?”

The rims of his eyes were red, which surprised Situ Weilian. As he stared vacantly at Shen Zhiheng, he still didn’t think that he had done anything wrong.

“Da-ge, don’t be like this. I have my difficulties as well. Firstly, I thought that it was a little fun this way. Secondly… I was afraid that you would hate my mother and me, so I never dared to tell the truth. What if you wanted to find me so that you could take revenge? I like you, I just want to be brothers with you. If I can’t be brothers with you, then it’s also okay if we’re friends. In any case, I don’t want to become enemies with you…”

The more he spoke, the smaller his voice became. In the end, Shen Zhiheng cut off his mumbling, “At the juncture between life and death, you were still unwilling to tell me, right?”

“Juncture between life and death? When you saved me and Mi Lan?” Situ Weilian was truly puzzled. “I didn’t know that was a juncture between life and death! I thought you would be able to do it by yourself, so I waited for you together with Mi Lan.”

Shen Zhiheng walked towards the front step by step, circling around the desk, and stopping in front of Situ Weilian.

“You didn’t know?” he asked in a low voice. “Or did you want to continue hiding your identity, and simply didn’t want to take action?”

Situ Weilian gave a forced smile, lifting his hand and holding Shen Zhiheng’s arm. “Da-ge, I–”

Shen Zhiheng flipped his hand around and gripped his wrist tightly. “Weilian, on this earth, I have neither family nor friends. You are the only one whom I dare to trust, and whom I dare to rely on. Before jumping off the train, I once thought, that if I could only save one person between the two of you, I would save you. If I died, it wouldn’t matter. I’ve already signed the documents with the lawyer, you will be my only heir, I have left all of my assets to you.”

He lowered his body slightly, staring at Situ Weilian straight in the eye. “These are my feelings for you.”

Hearing him speak till this point, Situ Weilian finally felt the gravity and seriousness of the situation. But before he could open his mouth, Shen Zhiheng suddenly released his hand, letting go of his wrist.

“Our feelings will end here. From now on, you walk your broad and sunny road, I’ll cross my single-log bridge [3] .” Straightening, he cleared the way, “Take care, I won’t see you off.”

Situ Weilian stood up slowly. “I lied to you and I hid from you, I’m the one who’s wrong. But other than that, I’ve never done anything to let you down. Why do I keep going to Keats Hospital to dawdle all day long? Isn’t it for you? That night when you were assassinated by Li Yingliang’s people, when you were nearly dead, do you know how much trouble I had to go through to find blood for you? Do you think that the hospital has so much blood to supply you? I very rarely kill people, but those days, I didn’t even sleep at night, I was going about finding live people for you. That weasel demon, that was me!” He extended his hand and knocked Shen Zhiheng in the front. “Just think about it yourself, I have not let you down.”

Shen Zhiheng grasped his hand and shoved it away.

“No,” he said to Situ Weilian. “I have not kept anything from you. If you wanted to understand me, you wouldn’t have needed three years. I think you were just watching me like you were watching a show. Because I am a monster created by you and your mother, you just like to watch me being kept in the dark, watch me going around in circles. Watching me being this ignorant and helpless, in your eyes, don’t you feel it’s very interesting and very funny?”

Situ Weilian sighed, “Are you crazy?”

Watching his resigned yet innocent expression, Shen Zhiheng felt that this person was simply innocent to the point of shamelessness. A sudden surge of violence engulfed him without any warning, and he grabbed Situ Weilian’s collar with both of his hands, lifting him and about to hurl him at the glass window. Situ Weilian’s feet left the ground, but nearly at once, he dropped onto the ground with a sharp struggle, pulling Shen Zhiheng’s hands aside. Without waiting for Shen Zhiheng to take action again, he held Shen Zhiheng’s neck in a vise, turning around and pressing him down.

When Situ Weilian really demonstrated his power with no holds barred, even Shen Zhiheng was not his match. As he involuntarily staggered a step backwards and raised his head, his back crashed against the desk. Particularly dissatisfied, he lifted his two legs, which had been dragging on the floor, in an attempt to exert some force, but Situ Weilian violently pressed down onto his throat, knocking the back of his head into the desk as well.

“You dare to fight me,” Situ Weilian said softly, a little breathlessly. “You’ve really got guts now huh! When I speak nicely to you, you don’t listen, do you really just have to force me to speak the truth? Let me tell you, you’re nothing but an inheritance that my mother left for me. To us, you are a lowly mixed breed that got transformed from a human! It’s your honour that I’m willing to recognise you as my older brother!”

Speaking till this point, he slowly let go, letting Shen Zhiheng straighten and sit up bit by bit. But when Shen Zhiheng got up to a halfway point, he suddenly moved, pressing Shen Zhiheng down again and knocking the back of his head against the desk with a dull thump.

Lowering his eyes to look at Shen Zhiheng, he said, “I still think that there’s a misunderstanding between us. If not, I don’t harbour any ill intentions towards you, but why must you treat me like a bad person? Let’s sit down and talk, okay?”

  With his throat restrained by Situ Weilian, Shen Zhiheng could neither make a sound nor nod his head, and could only close his eyes heavily at him. Seeing his expression, Situ Weilian immediately smiled radiantly, holding his collar and pulling him up.

“Let’s go to the dining room, and also find something to eat. I’m hungry.”

In the dining room, the two of them sat across the dining table, facing one another.

A glass of tap water sat in front of Shen Zhiheng, while Situ Weilian had found a tin of biscuits. He had bought these biscuits when he had come here with Shen Zhiheng in the beginning of the year to take refuge. Fortunately, he had not opened it, and the biscuits were still crisp and dry, and had yet to go bad.

Stuffing his mouth with biscuits, he chewed messily, ignoring Shen Zhiheng’s stare that was directed straight at him.

He said, “We are not the same. I can eat a little of everything, and can live more easily than you. And you? Do you want a cigar? If you do, I’ll get one for you.”

“There’s no need. You know everything about me, now talk about yourself!”

“Me?” Situ Weilian bent forward and took that glass of water in front of Shen Zhiheng, raising his head and taking a gulp. “That year, the Shen family wanted to burn my mother and me to death, do you remember?”

“How could I forget?”

Situ Weilian smiled again. “My mother only liked our father, it was not like she was a fool, how could she have not realised the Shen family’s plans? That night, she had already sent me to the woodshed and asked me to wait for her. I waited and waited, and she finally came, but she had already been burned by the fire, in such a bad state that I nearly couldn’t recognise her. She carried me and escaped from your Shen family, running so fast it was as if she were flying.”

At this point, he looked upwards, his posture one of hard thought. “After that… after that we stayed in a dilapidated house. There was nothing outside, it was a barren ground, and there was also nothing inside, and it was so cold during the winter. Mother cried everyday, crying and crying, so much that her skin, fingers, eyelids, and lips seemed to grow out, and yet she kept crying everyday. She didn’t care about what I ate or drank, and only cried. At first, I thought she was in pain. It was only when I grew up that I knew that she had been heartbroken.”

His smile vanished, and he shrugged at Shen Zhiheng. “It turns out that to be so heartbroken you would eat your heart out is no exaggeration. In the end, she really cried herself to death. Creatures like us can’t be killed, but we can cry ourselves to death, how strange.”

“It’s not strange.” Shen Zhiheng stared straight at Situ Weilian. “When I found out that you had been lying to me for three years, I was also heartbroken, and also wanted to eat my heart out.”

Situ Weilian stuffed another biscuit into his mouth. “Then let me apologise to you in advance, because after hearing this next part, you might be even more heartbroken.”

“Go ahead.”

“When my mother cried herself to death, I was twelve. I told her that I would take revenge on the Shen family, but she said that this revenge was one that she had already taken. The people who should die were already dead, and those who did not die, she had left for me. I think she still hated the Shen family, and so she wanted the children of the Shen family to serve her own child.”

Listening to this point, Shen Zhiheng also remembered the large fire that night.

The woman had dashed out of the fire like a crazed demon, running around the entire Shen mansion. The first person she had caught was him. He had been scared stiff by that woman’s horrific condition, and when her teeth had just pressed against his neck, he had lost consciousness. When he had woken up, the masters of the Shen mansion had been either dead or injured, with not a single person spared.

His neck had been left with teeth marks of mangled blood and flesh, and there had been a few people who had been bitten like him, including his father. Merciless Old Lady Shen had been, on the contrary, safe and sound. Everyone had said that the old lady had been fortunate, and even the evilest of demons had not dared to get close to her. But, eventually, everyone had realised that this evil had been no ordinary evil; she had particularly left Old Lady Shen unharmed so that she could hold funerals for her descendants.

Those who had been bitten all developed high fevers after waking up. That high fever had burned harshly, and some people had not even managed to last through the first day and had drawn their last breath. Biased, Old Lady Shen had realised that her descendants could not be saved, and so she had only taken care of her most beloved eldest son and eldest grandson. Master Shen had endured for three days before passing away, which had already been quite a long time. Shen Zhiheng had been the only one who had displayed signs of the fever receding after three days, but when Old Lady Shen had personally wiped his head and face, he had, with his eyes closed, turned his head and bitten her wrist. Old Lady Shen had shivered in pain, but she had held on without a sound, and as her fresh blood had flooded into her eldest grandson’s mouth, she had watched as he had drunk desperately for his life, and she had held her hand there without pulling it back.

That was the first time he had drunk blood.

His grandmother’s fresh blood had helped him to stabilise, and during that period of chaotic upheaval and ceaseless death, Old Lady Shen had concealed the truth from everyone, killing chickens and ducks for their fresh blood so that her beloved favourite grandson could get better day by day. When the wound on Shen Zhiheng’s neck had completely healed, and when all the funerals had mostly been completed, relatives of the Shen family from all walks of life had flocked to them, eyeing this elderly old lady and her sickly grandson. They had each played to their own strengths, swearing to plunder some spoils from this Shen family that was on the brink of being wiped out.

Given the unreasonable and stubborn old married woman that she was, Old Lady Shen should not have had let these random people take advantage of them, but in the face of the Shen family’s tragic condition, and thanks to the psychological burden from worrying over her eldest grandson, she had finally been completely exhausted, and could no longer fend them off no matter how formidable she had been.

Shen Zhiheng could not remember the things after that clearly, he only remembered that he and his grandmother had moved in with a distant uncle. By this point of time, Old Lady Shen had no longer been obsessed with driving out evil spirits, and her nerves had been highly strung all day long, finding blood for her grandson to drink while having to keep his secret. She had become nervous to such an extent that she would panic over the smallest matters, seemingly on the verge of going insane.

Fortunately, such days had only lasted for a year. A year later, in spring, she had suddenly suffered a stroke, and besides Shen Zhiheng, no one else had been willing to accompany her to the hospital for treatment. Right before her death, she was paralysed and could not say a single word. She had stared straight at Shen Zhiheng, thousands of unspoken words held back in her eyes, to the point that her eyeballs had bulged out. Eventually, when she had passed away, she had died bearing unspoken grievances and had not gone in peace.

Old Lady Shen had been extremely selfish and arrogant her entire life, and all the wives and concubines in the Shen family had been bullied so much by her that they had not dared to even breathe. When her son had brought a concubine home, she had been like an ant in her eyes, and she could easily crush her to death with a finger. The ant had curly hair and large eyes, a slender waist and long legs, and had been the very picture of a flirtatious female Western devil [4] . She had already been an eyesore to the old lady, and later, with her shady comings and goings and the accumulating suspicious points about her, she had seemed very much like a demon or monster, and that old lady had become even more determined to put her to death.

Old Lady Shen had never thought that this ant would have had the ability to wipe her entire Shen family out.

After the old lady’s death, Shen Zhiheng had been left behind with his distant uncle to hit it off together. When the distant uncle had inherited the assets that Old Lady Shen had left behind, he had immediately thought of chasing Shen Zhiheng away. Meanwhile, hiding such a large secret and without the protection that his grandmother had once given him, as long as his distant uncle did not speak a word, Shen Zhiheng had also made up his mind to leave.

To a normal person, events of the past were like wine; the more time passed, the mellower the aftertaste. Yet, although Shen Zhiheng’s past had a history of more than a hundred years, after recalling them over and over again countless times, they had all faded, and they could no longer emotionally move him. He actually very much preferred if he could completely forget these events of the past. As a person who believed in pragmatism and who was only focused on looking forward, he did not like to linger in those blood-soaked memories.

“I,” he asked Situ Weilian, “was something she had left behind for you?”

Situ Weilian nodded. “Yes, all of us always do this.”

“All of you?”

Shen Zhiheng rested his elbows on the surface of the desk, propping up his chin with a hand as if he had suddenly become interested, although his gaze remained cold and stern. “Just what are ‘all of you’?”

Situ Weilian lifted his sleeves and wiped the biscuit crumbs on his lips. “We are not gods.”

“I can see that.”

“Neither are we ghosts or humans. People of our kind exist all around the world. Some families are large and illustrious, with extraordinary power, while others are like me, wandering around alone. Humans have given us many names, one of them is the one you hate the most, called ‘vampire’. But I don’t care, I naturally do not bother about trifles.”

Shen Zhiheng nodded once, “Mm.”

“We need blood, human blood is the best, but we can make do with other blood. We are not like you. It is easy for us to live, if not, we would have been hunted to extinction by humans a long time ago. Unfortunately, we’re not great at reproduction. Although we can have children naturally, and can have children with humans, my mother told me that births are rare. We don’t know why either.”

Shen Zhiheng continued nodding, “Mm.”

“I don’t know my mother’s origin, and I don’t know why she came to China. In any case, just like how I fell in love with Second Young Mistress Jin, she had fallen in love with our father. Sigh, I’ve even forgotten what our father looked like. Do you remember?”

“The old man’s appearance is more or less like mine.”

“Ah, no wonder I immediately felt close to you when I saw you for the first time. It turns out that seeing you is like seeing my birth father.”

“I don’t deserve the honour. Please continue talking.”

“Where have I talked until? Having children? Oh, right, I’ve talked until our relationship. My mother said that those in the Shen family who did not die were the ones she had left behind for me. She probably never guessed that the people of the Shen family would be so weak, and you were the only one who survived. But you’re very good, one of you is like ten other people, and I’m very satisfied to have one of you.”

“She left me behind for you… to do what?”

“To be my–”

Situ Weilian paused, swallowing the last word that he had wanted to say. Then, he replaced this with a gentle smile to Shen Zhiheng, “If I say that she left you behind for me to be my slave, you will definitely be angry again. But I’ve never treated you like my slave, and we’re in the civilised age now, everyone is equal, and no one can enslave anyone, isn’t it? I understand this principle, I’ve been to university before.”

Shen Zhiheng could not help but sneer, “Just where did you mother and son get the self-confidence to believe that I would willingly be your slave?”

A blank look appeared on Situ Weilian’s face, as if Shen Zhiheng’s question had made him stupid. “Why? Of course that’s because you need something from me!”

“What do I need from you? All these years, aren’t you the one who has always depended on me?”

Situ Weilian snickered, “Really?”

He tilted his head, smiling and asking again, as if wanting to force an answer out of Shen Zhiheng, “Really?”

Shen Zhiheng felt that between his smile and his question, was hidden a kind of innocent yet sinister peril that was simply impossible to defend against. On the surface, Situ Weilian definitely relied on him; he had so much wealth and influence, while Situ Weilian was only a little doctor with neither future nor ambition.

On the surface, indeed, it was like that.

Out of some instinct of self-preservation, Shen Zhiheng stopped his thinking only at this surface, and was unwilling to think any deeper, preferring instead to let Situ Weilian say the truth himself. 

Meanwhile, Situ Weilian examined his expression while saying softly, “The purer our bloodline, the better. My father was human, and my bloodline cannot already be considered as pure. But compared to you, I still have many advantages. For example, my lifespan is longer and I’m stronger. In particular, I am complete and my body is sound, and will never lose control. When you lose control, I can still subdue you, save you.”

Shen Zhiheng suddenly recalled the dungeon in the Yokoyama mansion. Yes, he had indeed lost control in the past, and he who had lost control had been like a demon, unthinking and emotionless, unable to even tell friend from foe, blindly thinking of nothing but killing.

“Da-ge, we have always been like this, finding outstanding humans to cooperate with. I’ll give you strength and let you live long, while you will be responsible for providing for me, protecting me. It is mutually beneficial for us and we can cooperate happily, isn’t that good?”

“I don’t want to cooperate with you now. Can we end this relationship?”

Situ Weilian looked at him. After looking at him for quite a while, finally, as if he could not help but laugh, he shook his head and smiled, “That’s not possible. There’s no way for you to regain a human body. It’s either you continue living like that or you kill yourself, but judging based on the condition of your body, your suicide won’t necessarily be successful!”

“Then I’ll just continue living like that by myself, I don’t necessarily have to cooperate with you.”

“That’s still not possible, your condition will keep worsening. Remember when we just met, you could still eat some fruits or something, but now, you can’t even drink a cup of light tea. Li Yingliang said that you had gone on a killing spree in the Japanese prison and had killed a lot of people. I think, given your brains, even if the Japanese had forced you into a corner, you shouldn’t have killed so indiscriminately without any rhyme or reason. So, when you had been killing people, you had actually been unconscious and unfeeling, right? My mother once told me that people like you are called the turned. You can only continue living on fresh blood, and the older you get, the stronger you get, and the easier it is to lose control. Without me taking care of you, sooner or later, you will go crazy one day, perhaps you might even run onto the streets to bite people and suck their blood. At that time, the police will be activated, and the newspaper reporters will also be present, they’ll catch up and even take pictures of you. Other people will stand by the sides and ask, ‘Isn’t that Mr. Shen? Why has he become a monster?’. Tell me, how humiliating would that be? How would you dare to face anyone in the future?”

Speaking to this point, he stood up, “I’ve spoken so much I’ve grown thirsty. Do you have any soda in your house?”

Shen Zhiheng stared fixedly at him, not replying.

Situ Weilian looked around and did not find any soda, and so he returned to Shen Zhiheng’s side.

“Da-ge, don’t be angry with me. For you, I was caught by Li Yingliang and became a hostage for a few days. I even got shot three times, but I don’t bear any grudge against you. I know that you still can’t get your head around this, so just now, you wanted to sever ties with me and drive me away. Fine, I can go and leave you alone to calm down. But I don’t have a single coin on me, and I don’t even dare to return to Tianjin now. If I leave the house now, wouldn’t I starve to death?”

He extended a hand towards Shen Zhiheng. “I know that you have money here too. Give me five hundred dollars, I will go and stay in a hotel, I swear I won’t be an eyesore to you.”

Shen Zhiheng still remained unmoving. After waiting a while, Situ Weilian could no longer wait, and patted the pockets of his pants through his changpao. 

“Do you have any cash? A cheque is fine too, I have enough time to go to the bank tomorrow morning to exchange it for money.”

Shen Zhiheng grasped his hand and shoved it away.

Then, he stood up and faced him, saying, “Situ Weilian, I have always treated you like my best friend, but you betrayed my trust, and the friendship between us no longer exists. If you must insist that the relationship between us is one of so-called ‘cooperation’, then I’ll declare now that I withdraw from this cooperation.”

He extended an arm in the direction of the door, “Please.”

Situ Weilian frowned, “Da-ge, do you know what you’re saying? You can’t leave me, you need me, and you will only need me increasingly. I said, your body is not sound!”

Shen Zhiheng’s thin lips moved, spitting out two words lightly, “Get lost.”

SItu Weilian let out a long sigh, “I can get lost, then you have to give me five hundred dollars.”

“The two of us have severed ties, I am no longer obligated to give you money.”

Situ Weilian glared at Shen Zhiheng, and after glaring for a while, he flicked his hand, turned his head, and left. Shen Zhiheng thought that he had grown a backbone, but the honking of a car horn quickly came from the back of the building; the little rascal had actually found the car key, and had driven the car out of the garage without permission.

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

A passion that does not last long.

As a reminder, 大哥 (dà gē) means “older brother”.

Basically “you do you, I’ll do me”. I just left it as a close to literal translation as a little treat for the MDZS fans.

The term used here is 洋毛子 (yáng máo zi). 洋 refers to Westerners, while 毛子 is a slur against Russians, although it literally just means “fur”.

[unseededtoast]

Turtle Doves | Joel Miller

Part Twenty Five

Chapter Directory

Series Summary: In which two broken souls connect so deeply, that if one should perish, the other would surely die of a broken heart. (slow burn, timeline changes. After TLOU1, before TLOU2, assumed knowledge of infected, uses elements from both show and game)

Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, and sexual content.

Also cross posted on my Wattpad and AO3, if you prefer those formats. Here is a link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted.

I look down at my shaking hands and wonder if he thinks I'm just as much of a monster as the men I've just killed. 

It could've been two days or two weeks that I've been kept here but I would have no way to tell. The Tribunals have kept me locked in a dark room the entire time, effectively disorienting me. My limbs still strapped down to the table, my body aches and my mind has become fuzzy. While the room is dark, I am not afforded the luxury of sleep. 

A glimpse of sunlight enters the room as a man steps through. His footsteps echo in the quiet room and I hear him stop walking as he reaches the table end by my feet. His fingers trail up the front of my leg and I hear him take in a sharp breath. 

"I'm here to bring you to trial." His voice is gruff. I am unable to answer due to being dehydrated, and make no move to acknowledge the man's words. 

I don't know what this trial will entail, but I've seen what these people do. I'm already guilty in their eyes. This much has been proven by the way they've treated me while being tied down to the table. 

Countless men have entered and ran their hands over my body, some have gone as far as to hit me. They've all told me that I'll swing for killing their men. And I believe them. 

"Come on." The man speaks as he cuts my restraints. Even though I'm now free of being tied down, I don't make any move. I know I'm far too weak to take on even one of these men by myself, and if I attempt to escape that I'll just be re-captured and tortured even further. 

I've run through every scenario I could think of, and all ended up with me being dead. There simply isn't a way out of this one. The man yanks me from the table and forces me on my feet. He grabs the back of my shirt and leads me out of the dark room. 

The sunlight is blinding as soon as he opens the door. My eyes squint and I stumble over my own feet as he continues to push me forward. I hear men yelling at me and I smell smoke in the air. 

"Let that bitch swing!" One man calls out enthusiastically. As my eyes adjust to the light, I begin seeing where I'm going. 

I'm being paraded down a street that's lined with men on each side. My gaze falls across several men and see the 'T' branding on every single one. This group was much larger than I ever could have conceived.  

I trip over my feet again and lift my head to see a large brick building in front of me. It has a grand staircase with torches lining the sides. There are men guarding the door with several guns in hand. 

"Let's see her head roll!" Another man calls out. While their words are frightening, my mind doesn't fully register that they're talking about me. It's almost as if I'm viewing the whole situation in third person, like an out of body experience. 

We reach the staircase and I'm forced up them. As I ascend the stairs I hear the crowd behind cheer in unison. The doors slam loudly behind us once inside, leaving us in silence. Two additional men escort me down a hallway where there's one room at the very end. 

The room at the end of the hall is a courtroom. A dusty, downtrodden courtroom that smells faintly of blood and gunpowder. I'm forced to stand in front of the wooden pedestal at the front of the room, in which one man sits behind the desk. He stares down at me with disdain in his eyes and looks me over before he speaks, as if he's trying to come up with just the right insult. 

"Today you will face trial for the murders of our men with the maximum penalty of death. Do you understand?" His voice is loud and commandeering. The word death seems to reignite my mind and the full gravity of the situation begins to sink in. 

My eyes dart all around the room and I see a jury of men to my left. They're all staring me down like they would take great joy in killing me themselves. And they probably would. I look back to the man in front of me and nod my head, hoping that my death may be swift.

"Yes." I answer and he nods, satisfied with my answer. With that, I'm tugged over to a table on the right side of the room and forced into a chair. Another man who sits at a table to the left stands from his spot and approaches the man that I just spoke with. 

I realize quickly that this is being conducted like an actual pre-outbreak court. I'm the defendant, and the man I just spoke to is the judge. The men to the left is the jury that will decide my fate. Though it's hardly fair, it makes sense, considering they've named themselves Tribunals. It seems this entire group has taken it upon themselves to become the world's judges. 

While tribunals are supposed to act to keep peace, order, and justice, these people have corrupted the role to conform to their own twisted will. There is no justice in slaughtering innocent people. The judge at the front of the room slams an old gavel to begin the trial. 

The man who sits at the table to my left stands and turns to the jury. This man is dressed nicer than the others and looks to be a little more well-nourished, he must have found favor with his position. Either that, or he's being paid off by those who can afford his price. 

"Today you will receive the facts about this woman who sits across from you. She is responsible for several of our men's deaths. But you don't have to take my word for it, no we have solid physical evidence that she has been tracking us and hunting our members." The man points an accusatory finger at me, and all I can do is stare back at him. This entire situation feels utterly dystopian and foreign to the world in which we now live. 

"The court will now hear from the prosecutor." The judge states and allows the man to continue talking. I glance over and see that my bag has been sat on the prosecutor's table. My heart slams in my chest when I realize all that's been kept in there. 

"My fellow Tribunals. Let me show you exactly who she is. She has written correspondence from our men." He holds up several notes that I've held onto from Boston. I swallow harshly, wishing for a cup of water. 

"She has a detailed map." He displays my map to the jury, who all look at it with squinted eyes. 

"And she even has our pictures." He shows the jury the polaroid pictures I took of other victims. I see some people on the jury look from the pictures to me, a deep seeded hatred in their eyes. 

"Now, I'm not going to waste your time here today. It is glaringly obvious that this woman was operating solely to kill as many of us as she could. In fact, she travelled all the way from Boston." He waves papers in the air that I assume are the notes I found in the QZ warehouse. 

The evidence gets passed around the jury members, who take their time examining every single paper and photo that gets passed to them. It's obvious that nobody is going to find me innocent. After all, they weren't wrong, I was operating solely to exterminate them. They may judge me for the acts I've committed against them, but I've judged them on their acts they've committed against innocent people. It seems we find each other guilty of the most heinous. 

After what feels like an hour, the jury has passed back the evidence and the prosecutor clears his throat and looks me dead in the eye as he says his next words. 

"I do trust that the jury will reach a reasonable conclusion." His words are an obvious threat. My eyes track him as he takes his seat at the table once more. I know I am destined to die soon, but I would like very much to kill that man before I do. 

"And now the defendant. Please state your name for the record and recount your version of events." The judge orders and it takes me a moment to understand what he's asking of me. Knowing I have no choice but to comply, I stand from my seat with wobbly balance. They definitely must have kept me here for a few days at least.

"My name is Noelle Allen and I am from the Boston QZ. There's no denying the evidence you saw, but let me tell you what the prosecutor won't. Members of this group made a deal with the Fireflies to find and kill a teenage girl for a deal gone bad. But they weren't just looking for this one girl. No, I found three murdered teenagers in the QZ, all tortured and killed brutally." I take a breath and try to swallow, but my throat is entirely too dry. My eyes sweep across the jury and I can tell that whatever I say won't sway them, but I know what I must say for me to die at peace.

"All across the country members of this group have left people mutilated. And not only that, but they took joy in it. It's killing for sport, not justice. How can it be just if photos are taken of the victims and displayed like trophies? Tell me, where is the justice in sexually assaulting children and leaving their bodies in alleys?" My voice raises and cracks with my words, and I force myself to keep going before they tell me that my time is up. 

"This here is not justice, this is a corrupted system. You can tell yourselves that this is fair and just, and that you're enforcing some kind of moral code. But all you're doing is using this as an excuse to kill whoever you want for whatever reason. And I know that my body will swing from the gallows after this, but at least I know I died by trying to avenge the innocent." My words may not have been the most eloquent, but it's everything I needed to say. I sit back down at the table and wait for someone to say something. But the room remains silent. 

Jury members begin conversing amongst themselves but I don't waste the energy in trying to listen. I already know my sentence. Instead, I focus on the wood grain of the table and find myself once again thinking of Joel. 

I never intended to develop the feelings I did. No, I was just grateful I had someone willing to travel with me across the country. Never did I think that Joel Miller would end up with my heart. His rough exterior hides a man who loves deeply and passionately for those he cares about, a man who has endured too much pain and suffering in this life. I knew that our time together was limited, but I never thought it was going to end like this. 

No, I had always imagined that we would be able to exterminate this group and then we would part ways. He would go to Wyoming to be with his family, and I would decide what I wanted to do. And while I hope he's on his way to Wyoming right now, I realize that I don't have to burden myself with making that choice anymore. There are no more future days for me. 

But, I hope that all future days for Joel are as peaceful as they can be. I hope he's able to spend time with his newfound daughter, and that she is kept from harm's way. I hope these people never find them and I hope nobody else ever finds out that she is immune. There's no doubt in my mind that Joel would allow anything happen to her, she's in good hands. I only wish I could've met her. Maybe in a different life things ended differently. 

"A decision has been reached, all rise." The judge says as a jury member hands him a piece of paper. My heartbeat thumps in my ears as I watch the judge licks his lips and clear his throat. 

"By decree of the Tribunals, defendant Noelle Allen has been found guilty of all charges and the jury recommends the maximum sentence for her crimes." His words are no surprise to me. Immediately, my arms are tugged behind my back and I'm forced to begin taking my final walk. 

I know that I will be hanged outside this very courthouse. 

Life seems to move in slow motion as I'm forced out of the courtroom. My chest feels like it's tight, like I can't get enough air and the people around me blur into shapeless figures. It's as if concrete has been poured around my feet, weighing me down with every step forward. The front doors of the courthouse open and I can hear the roar of cheers from the people outside, but they sound muffled. My ears are ringing, my heartbeat feels like it's going to jump from my chest. 

Before we make it to the front doors, my vision goes gray. The hands that were holding me tightly disappear and I hear gunshots in front of me, where the crowd is. Still operating in a fog of confusion, my feet take steps backwards automatically, and suddenly I find myself running back through the courthouse. Men with guns rush past me, paying me no mind as I look for a way out. 

I'm not even sure what's happening, but it feels like some sort of divine intervention. 

I look into each room I pass until I find one with a window. Without giving it any thought, I pick up a chair to break the glass out and then jump out of it. My feet hit the ground with a hard thud, the jump had been higher than anticipated, but I made it out. Near the front of the courthouse I hear gunfire and screams, so I turn and run in the other direction. 

My palms burn from being cut by the broken glass but I just hope that nobody thinks to follow the blood trail. With each gasp for air my lungs burn more and more and I start to trip over my own feet. Finding a secluded corner, I collapse against the wall and try to catch my breath. 

The smell of smoke lingers heavily in the air and burns my throat, but I pay no mind to it. All I need to focus on is getting out of here alive. I know if they catch me, I'll suffer a fate far worse than death. 

Once I feel like I can get my body to operate properly, I stand and look around the corner to make sure nobody is coming after me. Unfortunately for me, there is a lone man running my way as I peek around and his gaze locks onto me instantly. 

Knowing if he alerts the others that my fate is sealed, I force myself forward and meet him in the middle. The man is carrying a large machete and he swings it towards me, and I am just barely able to dodge it. While he follows through with his swing, I land a kick to his ribs and knock him off balance, but not for long. 

The man swings again with a grunt and the blade grazes my arm, adding to the blood spilling from my body. I yell out in pain and back up before he can swing the blade again. 

"I'll get a reward for you dead or alive, it's all up to you. But I'm gonna have fun either way." The man exclaims as he lunges forward with the machete in front of him. It narrowly misses my stomach by inches. 

His words ignite a fire within myself, something deep-seeded and hot burns in my chest. While he gains his balance to swing at me again, I duck my head and tackle him, taking us both to the ground. 

The man struggles to grab hold of the machete's handle and I land my knee on top of his wrist, pinning it to the ground. He yells out in pain and his other hand moves to pull me off of him, so I grind my knee into his wrist even harder. His eyes shut in pain and he tries one last time to get me off of him. His free hand grabs my hair and he pulls, hard. My weight is shifted off of his wrist and he flips us over so that my back is pinned against the asphalt road. 

I move too quickly for him to hold my hands down and as he struggles to keep me pinned, my thumbs find their way to his eyes. With determination to live, I dig my thumbs into the man's eye sockets and listen as he screams. He jolts away from my hands and I waste no time in grabbing his machete. As he covers his eyes I raise the machete over my head before I bring it down and bury it in his throat. The man gurgles and chokes on his own blood as I stand.

But it seems like a clean getaway is not in my future, as the man's screams seems to have attracted more men. I yank the machete out of the man's throat and readjust my grip on it, my mind going blank to everything except fulfilling my bloodlust. 

One man raises his gun at me, but he's run out of bullets, probably spent dealing with the situation at the courthouse. He throws his empty gun at me and I dodge the metal, running towards him. I see his eyes grow wide as his gaze lands on the blade in my hand and then I feel him take his last breath as I pull the blade from his abdomen. 

A bullet whizzes by my head and I'm quick to spot the man shooting at me from behind a building. While he's ducked away for cover, I run between two buildings, hoping to disappear and get the jump on him. Thankfully city streets are organized as a grid, so it's not hard for me to locate where the shooter is. 

With controlled breaths, I peek around the corner and see the man who was shooting at me. His head is turned around the corner as he tries to see where I've gone. My footsteps are quiet and he doesn't hear me behind him until it's too late. The blade cuts clean across his jugular and he crumples to the ground gagging on blood. I grab his gun and check how many bullets are left. There are just three, so I have to make them count. 

I turn and start heading away from the center of the city, where the majority of the group is. If I can get far enough away before they realize I'm gone, I'll have a pretty good chance at disappearing from them forever. My head is on a swivel as I move away from the city, constantly checking for any lone wolf members or infected that may have been drawn to the commotion. 

I'm almost out of the main city area when a door opens to my right. The man behind the door moves too fast for me to be able to do anything, and he forces me inside the building. There are two other men inside, sitting by a fire. Of course I would run right past one of their outposts.

"I reckon we can fetch a fair price for this one, what do you think boys?" The man has a death grip on my wrists and I feel him lean down and sniff my hair. 

Where fear once would have set in, all I feel now is anger. My vision seems to go red and while the man satisfies himself by smelling me, I bring my heel up quickly and land a solid hit. His hands are off of me in an instant, grabbing at himself. 

I hear the others behind me scramble to grab their weapons while I lock my arms around the man's throat. I squeeze tightly and fend him off as he reaches behind himself in an attempt to grab me. 

"Drop your guns or I'll make you all suffer." My voice does not sound like my own as the words leave my mouth. However, the men don't take my threat seriously, and one of them laughs. 

The blood in my veins feels like it has turned into burning hot lava and I squeeze the man's airway so tightly that I feel his knees about to give out. He's choking for air, struggling to get even the smallest breath. His body is growing heavier and heavier and just before he hits the ground, I grab the gun off of his thigh and aim it at the two others.

I don't give the others a chance to speak as I fire rounds into their kneecaps; my finger pulls the trigger so quickly it almost sounds like I'm firing an automatic weapon. Both men collapse to the ground, writhing in pain as blood drains out of their knees. 

"You fucking bitch." One of them spits at my feet as I saunter over to them. I kick their own guns away from them and then assess how I want to handle the situation. My eyes linger on the fire burning in front of me and an idea blossoms in my mind. 

Perhaps this is the precise moment that I become just as bad as them. 

I grab the fire poker leaning against one of the chairs and hold the end of it in the fire until it becomes red-hot. Once I'm satisfied with how hot the iron is, I walk over the man closest to me and lean down so that I can see his face clearly. Tears stream out of his eyes and he whines about his knees. 

"I wish I could do this to every single member of this group. But since I can't, you're going to be the ones to send my message to them all." My words are laced with venom as I stand to my full height. 

The man in front of me pleads and begs for his life. And once upon a time I might have had pity on him and not have followed through. But after everything I've seen these men do to others and what they've done to me, I have no problem following through with my actions. 

I plunge the hot metal through the man's mouth until I feel the end of the iron hit the floor beneath him. The man screams out in pain and grabs the iron. He ends up melting the skin off the palms of his hands as he tries to save himself. While he dies a slow, agonizing death, I turn my attention to the other man. 

"Please don't, please." The man sobs when he sees me walk towards him. Instead of answering him, I look around for my next weapon. 

However, there seems to be little to nothing here, except sleeping bags and old wrappers. My eyes turn down to my trembling hands that are covered in blood. The man's cries fade into the background as my ears begin ringing.

Behind my eyelids with every blink I see images of dead people. The children in the QZ, the people in the polaroids, every single one of them. My knees hit the ground with a hard thud and my hands reach out and wrap around the man's throat. 

He scratches and claws at my hands and manages to knock me off balance. With my ears still ringing and my vision becoming veiled in red, I watch as my fingers lace themselves in the man's hair. I bring his head up off the ground before slamming it back to the floor, where I hear his skull crack. 

But that's not enough to keep him from fighting back, so I raise his head off the floor once more and repeat the action. As his head hits the ground for the second time, blood begins spilling out onto the floor. The man stops fighting back as hard, his arms and legs twitch next to his body. I stand to my full height and use the back of my hand to wipe the sweat from my face as I see blood begin spilling out of the man's eyes. 

Stumbling backwards, I find my way out of the building as it suddenly feels like the walls are caving in on me. And as I open the door the light blinds me, and from the light emerges a figure that I can only describe as being angelic. 

My shoulders slump as I see Joel standing right in front of me, his eyes trained on the carnage behind me. 

"Noelle." He says breathlessly. His wide eyes scan over my face and it's only then that I realize what I've just done. 

I look down at my shaking hands and wonder if he thinks I'm just as much of a monster as the men I've just killed. 

Part Twenty Six