#SEVEN LAWLESS WHEN I FUCKING GET YOU

[mt07131]

Infamous chapter three…………… Amy infamous when I get you

[jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue]

Deadline - BTS OT7 CEO AU Chapter 15

This is what I call the fluff before the fall, there are a few events mentioned here that aren't in previous chapters but are in canon drabbles/pseudo drabbles, so I recommend you read this and this before the chapter below. 4.6k words

Hope you enjoy 💜

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Seven boyfriends, seven days a week, might sound like a lot for one person to handle, especially since now you were sexually active with them. It was as if you unleashed Pandora's box but instead of a plague that kills the world, it was seven sexy men that didn’t want to let you go to sleep alone. 

“Min Yoongi, why are you in my bed on a weekday?” Your eyes narrow in suspicion at the man staring at the ceiling. You just walked out of the ensuite in nothing but your robe, if he thought this was easy pickings he had another thing coming. 

“Relax kitten, I just wanted to talk,” he sighs, turning onto his side so he can face you, a soft but sad smile on his face that made you want to climb into bed with him and cuddle, so you did.

“You’re not here to break the rules?” you tease, arms wrapping around his middle when he embraces you. It earns you a chuckle at least.

“Because that worked out well for me last time,” he shakes his head. “You and your rules.”

“Who would’ve thought the roles would reverse huh,” you say absentmindedly, trying not to laugh.

“What do you mean?” He frowns, seemingly confused, he was never an enforcer of the ‘rules’, that was you and Namjoon. 

“Well you always went against them while Joonie lived by them, and now…”

Well now Namjoon had a new lease on life, where before he would always be militant with those broad shoulders of responsibility that carried the weight of everything, now he was a lawless man, and your biggest deviant. Since that morning you were both late to your respective workplaces, the one where he ate you out for breakfast and then fucked you against the counter, the troublesome trio became the least of your problems. Now it was Namjoon that tried to keep you up late on a work night until you had to force him out of the room. Namjoon who tried to sneak into the shower with you in the mornings, pretending he was going to behave and be good, “we’ll save water baby girl” he tried one morning. Seriously, did he think you were stupid? Namjoon who wanted to hold your hand all morning before you walked out the door for work, the others yelling at him that he was hogging you, while you tried to do your morning routine one handedly (his grip was strong). But he didn’t care, the others had gotten away with more in his eyes, it was his turn. 

“And now you’ve unleashed the monster in Kim Namjoon,” Yoongi finishes your thoughts for you, shaking his head before sighing, “can’t blame you too much, it was always there.” 

Too many times this week he’s had to be the level headed one, he’s sure it's just a phase but it needed to end quickly or Yoongi was going to get a headache. 

“It’s been a week, why is he still mad at me and not you?” Yoongi grumbles into your hair.

“I had sex with him,” you deadpan, shrugging before you bury your giggles in his chest. 

“Ah this is why Jimin calls you a vixen,” he thinks aloud playfully, making you pull back to look at him in question, did he?

“Well that’s a new one…” Your arms come around his neck, looking up at him longingly, waiting for him to figure out what you wanted without asking for it. 

“No it isn’t, he just calls you that behind your back, when you’re being too enticing for your own good,” he kisses your nose.

Your cheeks burn as you scoff, ‘enticing’, what was wrong with them?

“Like right now,” he calls you out, your favourite gummy smile beams endearingly at you when you gasp in mock outrage.

“I’m not doing anything right now,” you deny, ready to bicker with him.

“Hmmmmm,” his gaze changes dangerously, eyes almost mocking you, “So you’re not asking me for a kiss right now?”

You scrunch your nose, pressing your lips together to hold back a smile, dammit he could see right through you.

“No I’m not,” you shake your head, holding your head proudly. “You’re reading into things.”

“I don’t think so, Kitten,” he hums again. “I can read you perfectly.”

This time round he accepts defeat easily in your playful little squabble, lips pressed against yours and you both smile. 

—

Kim Jongin was a flirt, a shy one at times, but when the women bundled around him he couldn’t help but flirt, hopeless romantic and all. You however indulged him in no such thing, and he couldn’t help wondering why. He wasn’t serious, he was playing around, everyone knew it, but you didn’t even acknowledge it. 

He even called Jimin to ask him if something was wrong with you and after about a minute of silence on the other end from his friend, where he thought the line disconnected and called his name repeatedly, he got lectured for an hour. His friend and business rival went on and on about how he shouldn’t pursue you, and you were all business and professional and … well he stopped paying attention after that. But it did make him curious. It was almost a challenge, the cliche of forbidden fruit.

“Y/n you’re practically glowing today,” he says in passing, interrupting your conversation with your supervisors. 

You stop speaking for a second, looking at him briefly before resuming whatever it was you were saying. Heechul hides a snicker poorly, covering it up with a cough, not even paying attention to you.

“Aren’t you going to tell me how good I look?” Jongin presses, pout on his face, his eyes drooping in faux sadness. 

You almost glare at him, and he kind of likes it, the fire in your eyes. Why did Jimin warn him against you? Surely he would want to set up his friend with such a woman, or at least keep her to himself.

“Oh Director Kim you look so handsome today,” Kyunghoon says dramatically, Heechul unable to stop his laughter this time. It takes everything in you not to roll your eyes. 

“Somethings wrong with Y/n if she doesn’t see how handsome our favourite director is,” Kyunghoon continues, trying to act cute. You look at him disgustedly, what a suck up, and that was coming from you, the world renowned teacher’s pet. 

“I heard she went on a date with Mark and then ghosted him,” Heechul stage whispers to his boss as if it’ll win him favours. “I don’t think Y/n is good enough for our precious director.”

You lost count of how many times your eyes rolled in annoyance, it wasn’t a reflex you could help otherwise you would’ve thought twice before doing it in front of your boss and two supervisors. 

“It wasn’t a date,” you grunt, frowning at the paperwork. It was bad enough your boyfriends thought the same, and you sincerely paid for that. You shudder involuntarily, skin starting to heat up as you try to push the memories of those nights out of your head since you were at work. 

“Someone should’ve told Mark,” Heechul mutters under his breath to the other two.

—

“Should we sell the company?” Namjoon breaks the silence in the office with words so off-kilter that Jimin falls out of his chair. The lead CEO is practically bouncing in his seat, wanting the day to finish so he could go home and see you, maybe convince you to break some more rules.

“Who are you?” Jin asks, watching the CEO with distrust. 

Kim Namjoon, selling the company he got off the ground with his bare hands? Unheard of. Impossible. Pigs would learn to fly first. 

“Hyung!” Jimin whines, picking himself off the floor. “Please, come back to your senses! What’s happened to you?”

The CEO shrugs, looking at his desk as the words leave his mouth.

“I’m happy,” he grins, the others looking at him dumbfounded before they groan.

“You’d sell it and then cry,” Hoseok says, knowing his friend all too well, getting back to the papers on his desk before adding, “Sunshine would kill you.”

“If you sell the company I would never forgive you,” Jin adds. “I’m far too young to retire.”

“Plus you’re only saying this so you can spend more time with Noona right?” Jungkook continues, “but could you ever imagine Bunny giving up work?”

“You’d sit at home bored out of your mind,” Yoongi grumbles, agreeing with the maknae. 

“We could always convince her,” Namjoon suggests, making the others laugh in disbelief. 

“Have you met Kitten?” Yoongi grins, “the word stubborn doesn’t do her justice.”

Yoongi looks up from his desk when there’s no reply, Namjoon staring daggers at his head. Oh shit, well he walked into this one.

“You managed to convince her just fine,” he accused, making all of them groan again.

“Can we not do this again?” Jin sighs, closing his eyes, if he had this conversation again his brain would explode trying to escape it. 

“Please can we let this go,” Jimin almost yells, they all had enough of the silly war Namjoon was trying to begin with Yoongi. “Jealousy is an ugly trait you know.”

“Who’s jealous?” Namjoon contests, not sounding believable at all. “It’s about principle.”

“And the principle is Angel and Hyung did nothing wrong,” Jimin uncharacteristically sticks up for Yoongi, even the usual stoic CEO was shocked. “We were all dating at the time, they were both well within their rights, even if it was at work.”

Namjoon looks away dejected, knowing Jimin was right but wanting to hold on to the petty anger. 

“I mean why Yoongi hyung is an acceptable question to ask, but Angel doesn’t have the best taste in men does she?” Jimin smirks, teasing him.

“She’s dating you as well, Park Jimin,” Yoongi scoffs in reply, but the feeling of gratitude towards the younger one doesn't dampen. 

“It’s inappropriate at the workplace,” Namjoon finally  mumbles in response, making Jin roll his eyes. “What if they got caught?”

“You’re the head of the company and you didn’t catch them in the act,” Hoseok mocks with a smirk, an eye brow rising. “And you were in the room with them.”

A knock on the door interrupts their conversation, Jackson looking unusually cautious as he enters. He greets them all with a bow, approaching Namjoon’s desk.

“Depyunim…” he hesitates, putting the envelope in front of him. “There’s another one.”

Namjoon’s carefree disposition disappears, instead Jackson sees a bull about to charge, the fear instilled in him so sudden it takes effort not to move out of his line of sight. 

“How many is that now?” Jin asks quietly, the atmosphere in the office now dead. The youngest three looking at their hyung’s in question.  

“It doesn’t matter,” Namjoon seethes before commanding Jackson to burn it like every time before. The secretary never did, instead he always put it in the shredder and disposed of it in the confidential waste bins.  

He nods, leaving with the envelope and whatever contents it held that shook the four oldest CEOs. As curious as Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung were, there was something about the murderous intent on their leader's face that stopped them from asking what was going on.

“How much longer are we going to hide this,” Yoongi says, knowing how much you hated secrets.

“We don’t need to worry her,” Namjoon dismisses the idea. He was content with pretending the problem didn’t exist, they all were. But how much longer could they ignore a mountain and pretend it was a molehill. 

“Maybe we should air on the side of caution and read what he’s said at least,” Hobi suggests.

“We don’t give criminals the time of day Hoseok,” Namjoon replies. “Nothing he has to say is worth our time, or Y/n’s.”

“But he’s incessant,” Jin states. “We thought he’d give up but it's been weeks Namjoon.”

The maknaes all watch the back and forth quietly, trying to decipher what the hell was going on.

“I don’t want to read his threats or blackmail, he has no power where he is.”

“Where we put him,” Yoongi scoffs, “he’s lost everything, which means we shouldn’t underestimate him, there’s nothing he won’t do.”

“What can he do?” Namjoon yells back exasperated. They were pretending for so long he almost forgot about the whole issue. 

“Well we won’t know unless we read the letters,” Yoongi responds calmly, knowing Namjoon’s emotions were all over the place. The anger was forefront, their leader usually was able to keep his cool in all aspects of his life, or at least use his emotions productively, but this was different. This made his level-headed nature dissipate, until all that was left was a man desperate to hold onto what he had, regardless of the consequences. 

—

“You wanted to see me sir,” you say as you enter the office. Kyungsoo was a good boss, he was a bit scary and blunt at times but always fair. The blank expression he usually wore gave nothing away, which is why everyone who ever interacted with him was always on edge. 

“Y/n take a seat,” he says, gesturing to the chair in front of him. The other CEOs were nowhere to be seen. 

“Is everything okay?” you ask, starting to worry since his expression seemed more serious than usual. 

He sighs. That one action has your heart dropping, you fucked up somehow, you must have. What other reason could he have to call you in here?

“I want you to know I usually don’t pay attention to baseless rumours,” he states, looking you dead in the eyes almost apologetically. “However there is one going around about you that has put your colleagues at a bit of unrest.”

Oh fuck, this again? This again because Jongin tried to flirt with you in front of your supervisors? You press your lips closed before you can start filling the silence with explanations, the man hadn’t finished your accusation yet. Innocent until proven innocent, you were guilty of nothing.

“A few of your supervisors have come to us with the senseless belief that you are somehow a spy for bangtan corporations,” he pauses watching for your reaction, other than your eyes widening in shock and your lips parting, he doesn’t see anything damning there. “We had no reason to believe it, except one of the managers claims to have seen you at dinner with your old bosses.”

You can feel yourself start to sweat under his gaze, for all the reasons he is unaware of. You were not a spy, but yes you had a secret, one that could not get out no matter what. 

“Director Do, I assure you, I am not a spy for any company,” you say sincerely, hoping he’ll believe you. “I’m close with my old colleagues and bosses after working with them for so long, but I can promise you I never talk about work.”

He takes in your explanation with silent eyes, you couldn’t read them and you hated it. When it was one of your seven boyfriends you could always read their moods and you missed that, you didn’t realise how much comfort it brought you until now. Even Yoongi, who was dubbed a stone by your old colleagues, you could always grasp his emotional state, this was foreign to you and as a proud teacher's pet it was making you anxious. 

“Okay,” he nods, seemingly accepting of your honesty. 

You breathe in relief, albeit mind in overdrive trying to think when this manager could’ve seen you. You all went out for dinner recently after coming back from Italy as a call for peace between the hyungs and maknaes. The so-called peace lasted for about ten seconds before they were arguing again about who was in the right and why actions were justified etc etc. It must have been then, the table was in a private VIP booth but they were loud, the noise levels could’ve caught anyone’s attention. 

You’re dismissed from the office, head hanging to the ground in thought. Do you tell the others? You probably should so you can all collectively be more careful, but at the same time, you didn’t want to worry anyone. 

—

In the end, you do decide to tell them. Your downcast expression when you got home gave away that something was wrong anyway, you didn’t have much choice after the probing from the maknaes. Yoongi begged you to tell them just to shut Jimin’s whining up. They didn’t like it, in fact they went a little too quiet for your liking, but they all agreed they would have to be more careful on dates out, which led to a compromise you weren’t all too happy about but hey, never look a gift horse in the mouth, whatever the hell that meant.

When you all started dating, Namjoon made a point about renting out whole places so you could all enjoy some privacy away from the public and you had vehemently refused. It was too costly, it wasn’t fair on other people that wanted to also visit the places of your dates, and it just didn’t seem normal. Now though, you had to give in, at least to keep your relationship under wraps. 

“Is it really worrying you?” Jin asked you after you were silent for a while. Both of you were sharing a slice of cake between you on the dining table, you mind preoccupied. 

“Yes,” you say honestly, sighing.

“Oh beautiful girl, I’m sorry,” he replies sincerely, pulling the leg of your chair so you’re closer to him. The action has your heart galloping despite your uneasiness, you’d never told them before but it was your favourite move. In every drama you watched, whenever the male lead did that you would just swoon, and when your boyfriend did it you swooned and died. 

For the first time tonight you smile genuinely, shyly trying to hide your expression as you play around with the cake. Jin can see the change in your demeanour, he wanted you closer to comfort you but he can see it had other affects. He pulls it closer even still, his face a centimetre away from yours so he can feel it burning. 

“Cute,” he comments quietly, but you hear him. Stupid racing heart, pumping blood to your face, why did you always have to heat up like a volcano whenever they did anything? 

He chuckles to himself when you fail to reply, mouth opening as if you were going to but you couldn’t find the words. He kisses your flaming cheek, possibly making them ignite even more going off how your skin almost scorched his lips. 

“Beautiful,” he whispers, “why are you suddenly being shy?”

You shake your head without looking at him, as if to say, ‘no reason’. He laughs at your antics, pleased that he’s managed to distract you from your worries for a little while. When you finally do turn to him, you've scooped up some of the cake on your fork, holding it out to him expectedly. Internally he could combust himself from the action, but he hides it well enough, as long as you don’t look at his ears. He doesn't break eye contact with you as he takes a bite, a little of the frosting still on his lips that catches your attention. You wait patiently for him to swallow before you lick it, turning back to the plate as if nothing had happened, leaving Jin spluttering in shock, his face blushing profusely as he tries to calm down. Oh what a dangerous girl you were. 

—

“Did you just lock the door?” You laugh incredulously at Hoseok as he climbs into your bed. “You know there’s enough room for more than just us right?”

You’re only teasing but he’s not all that impressed. 

“After all you were the one to say that was the reason I got the biggest bed,” you continue, laughing harder when he pins you with a hard gaze. 

“I’m not sharing you tonight,” he states, pulling you closer under the covers before reaching over to turn off the lamp. “Plus you still owe me after halloween.”

You’re about to answer when you’re interrupted before you can begin, there’s a knock on the door but Hoseok stops you from answering it.

“What part of not sharing didn’t you understand sunshine?” he says seriously.

“Sorry,” you reply sheepishly, making him finally break into a smile. 

There he is, your Sun like boyfriend, you always found it funny that he called you sunshine when he was literally made from it. People gravitated towards Hobi, he was full of character and laughter, you would have to be out of your mind to dislike him. Sure he was a little more… authoritative at work and in bed, but all in all he was one of the nicest people you had ever met, you were lucky to have him to yourself. 

The knocking on the door turned into loud pounding, making his smile falter into a stern expression. Oh you felt sorry for whoever was on the other side if they unleashed Hoseok’s mean commander persona. You remember the days working with him, he accepted nothing less than perfection, it was a trait he carried home, but it did lead to a lot of self induced stress from time to time. 

“Just ignore it,” you whisper, turning his face away from the door to you in the darkness, “they’ll get the message eventually.”

Unfortunately, whoever is on the other side has a death wish, the banging doesn’t stop for a second. You can feel the patience in Hobi wearing thin before he detonates.

“We’re trying to sleep in here!” He yells with a scowl, his head pounding to the same rhythm as the beats on the door. 

For a moment it seems like he’s won, the silence welcomed as he settles back into your embrace, before the sound comes back harder and faster. 

“I’m going to kill them,” he growls, about to get up before you tether yourself to him. 

“Babe, they’ll give up eventually,” you reassure him, pecking his face wherever you could in the darkness, quelling his anger. You couldn’t see the look of love he was giving you, despite the incessant noise and now voices of demand and displeasure (surprisingly Namjoon and Jungkook, you were so sure it was Taehyung and Jimin), both of you lose yourself to soft touches and as the sound settled, you both fell asleep. 

—

“Namjoon no,” you command like he was a misbehaving dog when he stands at the kitchen doorway staring at you with mischievous eyes. 

He only grins, staring at your accusing finger like it was nothing, no threat behind it at all. You were on your way out, purposefully avoiding him like every morning since his new habit of trying to steal time you didn’t have. You shouldn’t have risked filling up your coffee travel cup, but the drinks at your new company sucked, they only had machines, no cafe no nothing, you were truly spoiled at bangtan. 

Your train of thoughts distracts you from your current predicament until your boyfriend takes a step into the room towards you. Your eyes narrow, his hands behind him playfully, a carefree gait in his movements but his face was nothing less than predatory. 

“I just wanted some coffee,” he shrugs innocently, but you know he’s up to no good. You eye the exit behind him, calculating how to manoeuvre your way out of here when he closes the distance. You try to slip past him but he blocks your movement with his arm clutching the counter behind you. His other hand takes your travel mug from your grasp, taking a sip before wincing at the burn. 

“It’s hot you dumbass,” you try to snatch it back but he only places it out of reach on the counter beside you, before wrapping his arm around your waist. 

“You're hot,” he flirts shamelessly, making your jaw drop and your skin crawl with heat. You were not used to this new carefree attitude they all adopted in disarming you with compliments, your heart couldn’t take it. 

“No,” you draw out the vowel as if explaining something simple to someone stupid, “I’m going to be late, move.”

But he doesn’t, he just grins before stealing the kiss he’s been wanting since he woke up.  

“Joonie,” you whine when your lips part with a smack, the grin he has on his face is devious as it is sexy. He plays with a strand of your hair avoiding that hard stare you had that told him to behave as he cornered you against the kitchen counter. 

“So we’ll be a little late baby girl,” he kisses the corner of your jaw before sucking gently on the skin of your neck. You push him back firmly, face adopting Yoongi’s stoic mask while your heart flutters uncontrollably. 

“One of us owns the company and can afford to turn up late,” you say, voice dripping in sarcasm. 

“The other one had enough charm to win over 7 of her ex bosses and is cute enough to get away with murder,” he contends, the smirk on his face getting wider when you roll your eyes. 

“So you want me to flirt with my new bosses to get myself out of trouble,” you say with a raised brow. 

That wipes the smile off his face, he removed your hand from his chest pushing himself onto you, smothering his face in your neck as you giggle uncontrollably. 

“That wasn’t funny,” he mumbles against your skin. 

“I’m going to be late!” You complain while laughing, you feel him grin against you at the sound.

—

Immediately you can feel something wrong at work, the atmosphere was off but that was the least of your problems. Your coworkers weren’t being subtle in their whisperings and stares, but they were avoiding you and keeping their distance. Even your supervisors who usually confronted you about anything suddenly looked away when you saw them, muttering something between themselves and leaving before you could question it. 

Your phone buzzes in your hand, why was Namjoon calling you? He knew better while you were at work. You let the call go to voicemail, trying to get your head into work mode but everyone’s attitude around you was making you anxious, your skin felt like a thousand millipedes were crawling all over it, or under it, your heart switching to fight or flight mode, ready to run. They were looking at you like… you couldn’t explain it, like you had done something awful.

Your phone buzzes again in your hand, this time a message, and when you read it that sinking feeling only gets worse. 

Office romance

Namjoon : Y/n go home ASAP

Your heart was in your throat, you were trying not to hyperventilate. The murmurs around you suddenly get louder as a new figure approaches, splitting the sea of colleagues apart until he finds you.

“Miss L/n, a word please,” Kim Junmyeon had never looked so stone faced, his disposition was usually kind and gentle.

Without a word you follow him, putting your vibrating phone away in your pocket, you couldn’t look at it now. 

As you walk the stares only get more intense, more curious, and you wonder what the hell was going on. Your brain starts going into overdrive, remembering the conversation between you and Kyngsoo merely days ago. Was this about being a spy?

You expect the CEO to take you to his office but he leads you to one of the meeting rooms, the other CEOs sitting solemnly not meeting your gaze. The screen on the 60 inch tv screen used for presentations was on, and paused, on a news channel. 

“Care to explain this Y/n,” Junmyeon says, reaching for the remote and pressing play.

You really wished you listened to Namjoon.

[orcasoul]

Joel Miller Headcanons

Joel's And Your First Time

18 + Minor's DNI 🚫

Joel can't remember the last time he felt a connection this strongly with a woman. He finds himself lost in your enigmatic pull, noticing every little thing about you, from the way your nose scrunches when you giggle, how you become so passionate when talking about a subject close to your heart, the way you hold yourself with grace, your playful and witty personality and how your natural beauty radiates without even having to try.

Sometimes he can't fathom how someone like you could want someone like him, yet here you both are, seven months into your relationship. That word still sound so strange to Joel. In a brutal world of cordyceps and lawlessness he'd never even wanted a romantic relationship. For the longest time he was fine with no strings attached hookups, never daring to invest any emotion in a woman who could be torn away in the blink of an eye. It was better that way.

But then you waltzed into his life and pulled the rug from under his feet, sending his walls crashing to the ground. A few months of flirting, subtle gestures and stolen glances was all it took before the two of you confessed your mutual love for one another and you've both been inseparable ever since, even gaining the nickname 'The Lovebirds' by some of Jackson's residents.

Sitting on the setee, watching your eyes sparkle in the light of the fireplace as you tell Joel yet another story of your life 'Before', he realises how much he hangs on your every word, the sweet lilt of your voice is something he'll never be able to get enough of. Setting his whisky glass on your table, Joel turns back to you observing how you suddenly seem nervous. "You okay?'" Joel asks, his voice soft with concern. "Yeah... um... I'm good," you answer sheepishly, then put your glass next to his.

Before Joel knows what's happening, you're straddling his lap, kissing him deeply and sensually, your hands delicately gripping his hair, while his own find their way to your waist, pulling you tight against his body. Your sudden moan into his mouth electrifies Joel's entire body, arousal coursing it's way south. "Joel?..." his name leaves your lips in a breathless whisper, as you pull away slightly, noses still touching. "Mmhmm," Joel hums, lost in the haze of you. "I want you to make love to me." Oh, that cleared his foggy mind!

He pulls his head back, quickly, assessing your expression to see if it's what you really want, if maybe you'd just let it slip out without thinking, but all he can see is love and want written all over your face. "Are you sure?" he asks, just to be thorough, "I told you I don't mind waiting." Hell, he'd wait until the end of time if that's what it took just to be with you. He knows that to you, sex is a very emotional and intimate act, never being one for hookups and he respects the hell out of that. After all, everyone is different.

He let's out a deep groan as you rub your core over his very obvious hard-on. "I want you, Joel. I want all of you," you purr seductively into his ear, "I'm ready, take me to bed, baby." Joel chuckles at the little yelp you give as he grips both of your arse cheeks and effortlessly stands up, carrying you up the stairs with ease. He gently sets you down on the bed, lifting your chin to look ardently in to your eyes. "You really want this?" "I do," you smile up at him with the biggest heart eyes, "I want to feel the man I love inside me."

Joel wastes no time in pulling your top off, followed by your bra, all of your clothes, until you are fully naked before him and what a fucking sight you are! "So beautiful," Joel gushes as he takes in the sight of utter perfection. Moments later, his own clothes are a discarded pile on the floor and he watches as your roving eyes greedily drink him in, staring at his hardened shaft, while biting your bottom lip. You eagerly pull Joel on top of you as you lay back on the bed. Hands wander, seeking out bare flesh as you both fully explore each other's bodies for the first time.

Joel trails wet, languid kisses down you neck, feeling your pulse quicken under his tounge, until he reaches your breasts. He gently latches his mouth to your breast, swirling his tounge around your pebbled nipple. A grin spreads over his face as you arch your chest upwards, seeking more of his mouth. Joel releases your nipple with a 'pop' and a devilish smirk. "I'm gonna take good care of you, sweetheart," he croons while slowly moving his fingers to your soft folds. "So wet already," he marvels, "All this for me, huh?"

His fingers then find your clit and he starts to rub in circles, gradually building speed, resulting in a spectacle he'll never forget; Your head tipped back, mouth in the shape of an 'o', your chest heaving and the melody of your euphoric cry as he draws the first orgasm from your trembling body. He allows you to catch your breath for a minute, enjoying your blissed out appearance. "Think you can give me another one, sweetheart?" he asks in a sultry tone. "Mmhmm...," you nod, deliriously.

Joel's thick fingers slide down to your entrance, carefully parting your lips. Slowly and delicately, he pushes one finger into the warmth of your tunnel, followed by another, stroking your spongy spot until he can tell you're close. He kisses down your belly as your moans grow louder, finally settling on your clit. Between pumping his fingers in and out and licking and sucking your sensitive bundle, he has turned you into a writhing mess beneath him, griping his hair and bucking up into his mouth.

Every obscene moan, pant and wail coming from you is music to Joel's ears, causing him to smile against your sex. He's the one making you feel this good. With a shudder of your thighs and a scream of his name, your second orgasm crashes over you, coating him in your juices. Joel laps at your release like a man parched, the sweetest nectar to ever grace his tastebuds. "You still with me, darling?" Joel teases as he moves up your body to kiss you, giving you a taste of your own release. "Yeah... Joel, that was.. wow!" you pant as you begin to come back down from your high.

Joel's painfully hard cock presses into your hip, a testament to just how much he wants you. "Your turn," you smirk as you reach down, wrapping your soft hand around his girth, slowly pumping, while spreading a bead of pre cum over his glistening head. Joel knows he won't last much longer if you keep this up. Reaching down to lightly grab your hand, he stops your ministrations. "Darling, I'm not gonna last much longer like this and I want to feel your pussy around my cock, now," he groans. " Then take it," you purr, nipping his neck, "It's all yours."

Good god! He feels ready to blow his load from your words alone. Lining himself up at your entrance, Joel gazes into your eyes as he slowly sinks into your heat, causing both of you to gasp as he bottoms out. Your arms and legs wrap around his body, holding him in place, both of you remaining still to relish in this new intimacy. After a few moments you whine, "Fuck me, Joel!", your hand grabbing his arse cheek. He dosen't need to be told twice! Pulling out to the tip, he pushes himself back in, with just the right amount of force to begin with, thrusting harder and faster as your moans become louder and your nails dig into his shoulders. "oh, Joel! Right there, baby!"

He knows there'll be little crescent shapes over his back for a few days. He'll wear them as a badge of honour! "Fuck, sweetheart! So...ugh... tight,... ugh... so perfect!" He's getting close now, wishing it would never end; The velvety soft warmth enveloping his dick, squeezing and pulsing with every thrust is intoxicating, heightening all of his senses. The downright sinful sounds of wet skin slapping against wet skin, accompanied with your cry of his name may just be Joel's new favourite sounds.

Joel reaches between your bodies to circle your clit once again, determined to draw one last orgasm from you before he reaches his own climax. It only takes several seconds before you are clamping down on his cock, thighs gripping him like a vice, voice shuddering as you gush all over his pubic area. Chasing his own release, Joel asks, "where do you want me?" "On my... tits," you reply breathlessly. Another few thrusts and Joel quickly pulls out, painting your heaving chest in thick ropes of hot cum.

He flops down beside you as you both catch your breath. Pressing his forehead to yours and gently stroking your arm, Joel whispers, "You okay, darling? Wasn't too rough?" The blissfully fucked out look on your face alone tells Joel you're okay. "I'm great, baby. More than great!" Joel gazes adoringly at you while you cup his cheek in one hand. "That was everything I hoped it would be. How was it for you?" Joel smiles broadly, "Fucking amazing, sweet girl!" He presses a kiss to your forehead, then to your nose, then to your lips.

"Be right back," he says as he heads to the bathroom. Moments later he returns with a warm, wet towel and tenderly cleans you up. Laying back down beside you, he takes you in his arms, bringing your head to rest on his chest as you both bask in the afterglow of your actions. Joel can tell by your slow, even breathes that you've fallen alseep. He takes this moment to appreciate everything about you, his heart aching with how much love he holds for you. You are IT for him, The One, and you were absolutely worth waiting for.

[infamous-if]

the problem with seven lawless is that there's something so obnoxiously sexy about them telling someone who isn't us to shut the fuck up. but even when they do aim that distaste as us, it's STILL obnoxiously attractive in a "stop being so mean to me or i swear to god i'm gonna fall in love with you" kind of way.

Seven: *is mean*

MC: fuck i want to marry them

they can get away with anything because of their face seven lawless has pretty privilege confirmed

[uldren-sov]

shared secrets

another lil @infamous-if fic because i can't stop even if i wanted to. little bit of background for ms. rodriguez-rose but done in a more "current" time Hope you like! ~2.5k words Seven Lawless is canon and not mine but Camy Rose is :)

✩

The gentle rocking of the tour bus driving down the highway should be comforting, especially at – Camy looks across her notebook in her lap and turns her cell’s screen on – 1:14 AM, but all she can think about now is how fucked she’d be if she got motion sick. What if she was just nauseous this whole time? What if she was so sick she was unable to write songs? What if being sick kept her up all night instead of all these new people with their loud breathing and snoring? Maybe if she was, she would be so exhausted that she wouldn’t care about how Kieran (she thinks) snores louder when he sleeps on one side than the other. Maybe she wouldn’t care about hearing the indiscernible whispers between Seven and Avina in their bunk. 

Maybe she wouldn’t be fucking haunted by hearing Seven asleep and remembering how they had once fit together so comfortably on the most uncomfortable mattress... She fought hard to forget it these past years, but flashes of how fingertips felt along along her spine come back to her now when cradling her pillow can’t settle her enough to sleep, and during nights like these when her mind is just too active to let her body rest.

She stares blindly at her most recent page of half-finished lyrics and sketched notes as her mind’s tires spin in the mud, churning out all these unhelpful anxieties as she uselessly urges her brain to take advantage of this time to herself. Usually as the last one to fall asleep and top 3 of the earliest to wake up, it means she has plenty of alone time even among a crowd of 11 (including Chuck the driver). In those late nights and early mornings, she finds it easier to break through her own bullshit, her defensive ego and caked on charm, and just dare to be vulnerable again. Dare to write again. 

When the words come. 

Sometimes they just don’t. Like tonight where her brain would apparently like to think of literally anything else than sentences with meaning, ending in a word that can rhyme. Still, she’s not about to waste a night when she could be working on something, practicing, getting better. She has to, she must, she can’t stop. Sleep is not an option, lyrics are not an option, so she’ll work on her only other option - a way to improve without bothering anyone.

Slipping her notebook under her pillow and shimmying on some exercise pants she untucks the oversized Soft Violence band shirt – flipped inside out for everyone’s sake – from the waist band and carefully unzips the curtain of her bunk. She steps into the stale, frigid, air and quickly assesses her surroundings. Most of the curtains are closed, those that don’t have it cracked open for the AC, but most importantly everyone seems to be asleep. A sigh of relief as she works her neck and shoulders out after being hunched over her notebook for so long. Nothing about the tour bus is ideal but no one can say that she won’t make the most out of a bad situation. 

She snatches her laptop and headphones from the far corner of her bunk and gives another cursory look around. No one stirs, no curtain opens, no one peeks their head out telling her to go the hell to sleep, but she swears she hears some music from one of the bunks closest to her. Maybe it’s August? Either way, she’s safe enough to continue as she ducks down to where her carry-ons are stashed. She finds the handle of her guitar case and gathers it up along with the rest. 

It’s not uncommon that she would bring her guitar with her, despite not playing guitar in the band anymore. She uses the excuse that it helps imagine the song better and lets Rowan take the lead on the rest. The reality though is one of the few secrets she keeps from her band but it’s definitely not the biggest sacrifice she’s done for their sake. Not by half. It still might be the biggest lie that she keeps from them.

She tiptoes and carefully parts the beaded screen that separates the “bedroom” and the living area. Maneuvering around the space she sets up as close to the front as she can to make sure she won’t wake anyone. Laptop set up in front of her, she’s at least able to keep the curtain in her peripheral as she settles her PRS over her criss-crossed legs, and sets up the rest. Avoiding the red guitar pick with the single casino-style number on it and fishing out one of the dozen others, she tentatively starts picking along her electric guitar. Soft plinking of the metal strings are barely heard over the ambient sound from the bus, but even so, she glares at the curtain, bracing for someone to come out and catch her. 

What fans don’t know, and what she thinks even her band has forgotten, was that Camy was a guitar player long before she was ever a singer. Singing was something that she kept to herself until what felt like the last second. Even then, up until high school graduation, she was lead guitar and a secondary/co-vocals until they started making their own music. But as inevitable as erosion, she phased out of that guitarist role. It was better for the band, it was better for their sound, they told her she was a better singer than guitarist anyways – that one still stings even after all this time – and it was best for Rowan. More than any other reason, she made the change for him. She decided to just pull the pin and give into that eventuality one late night, like this one, to a sympathetic Seven who comforted her for her subtle sacrifice. Stepping out of Rowan’s spotlight, she quickly shifted to rhythm guitar, to only vocals, to lead singer. The audience for her late night playing dwindled to one, up until about three years ago. 

Now, she plays in secret to sharpen herself, she plays to develop melodies she’ll only later hum in rehearsal, and she plays for desperate nights like this. Now, she stares at the curtain for just a little while longer and sighs when she seems to be in the clear. 

Brushing her hair back she slips her headphones on and the strap of her guitar over her shoulder. A bit of warm-up, a bit of practice – a bit of tuning, to be honest – a bit of maintenance, and she begins to play. Slow improvisation finds a melody from the chaos of her mind, a song, a feeling, coalescing in cohesive notes resonating from her headphones. The effect is immediate, like her brain is sighing in relief as notes fall into rhythm, fall into order, fall into something that sounds like music. A quiet contentment and pride settles around her like a blanket hearing her improvement as well, a confirmation that she’s not only her songwriting.  

2:28 AM. She rests for a moment, stretching out her hands as she takes a break. She should sleep. She shouldn’t take a stab at the latest, hardest, solo she’s been practicing off an on for a while now. She should just relax, for once. She shouldn’t cut into her sleep schedule any more than she already does. 

It doesn’t take long before she’s nodding her head in time with the track she has loaded up and the metronome that helps her keep the beat. The notes fly under her fingertips and she allows herself a smile at her progress. She’s a long way from really nailing such a complicated solo, but damn if she isn’t getting there.  And damn if it isn’t fun to learn – even with all the frustration involved with learning it.

Something whispers in the back of her mind as her skin pricks with awareness. In her peripheral there’s a shape looming, framed in the threshold of the living area. For a brief moment she wonders who looks weirder: her, hunched over her colorful guitar with the laptop’s screen blaring light into her face or the person standing there, menacingly, in shadow in front of that ridiculous beaded screen.

Ripping the headphones off her ears she wraps her arm around her guitar like she’s trying to hide it before she straightens in realization. Seven stares at her, stares through her, half highlighted in moonlight half shrouded by the night. The weight in his look is as inscrutable as the rest of him. She’s not sure how long he’s been there – why is he even here? – but if she was going to be caught by anyone, she decides he’s actually not the worst choice. Since the start of the competition, Seven has calmed down a bit, just a bit, and thankfully she can’t see any of that heat she’s come to expect. Yet. 

“Sorry if I woke you,” she whispers. 

“You didn’t.” He shakes his head and yet she can almost taste the lie. She glances past him for any more movement but finding none, she finds his dark green eyes in the gloam. As impossible as he is to read, something about how he regards her now has her breath catching. “Didn’t know you still played.” 

“Technically, I don’t,” she says, shifting uncomfortably as she closes the lid to her laptop. “Remember?” Which is always a risk to say to him now. He seems to hate everything about their shared past, the good and the bad. He shifts in place before wandering closer to lean against the opposite side of the sofa. Tucking his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, he glares out the window as the conflict in his mind already begins to show in the furrow in his brow. She chews on her lip, taking in the way his hoodie is zipped up enough to be respectful yet low enough for her to know he’s shirtless underneath. She has to rip her gaze away before she starts lingering too long on how good he looks when he actually just rolls out of bed and not only when he styles himself like he did. 

She tempers herself with a slow exhale, reminding herself that his opening performance was a song all about how much he hates her, with a performance tailored to aggravate her jealousy, both of which took advantage of her latest confession. Admitting her nightmare to the ghost of love’s past himself, was a fucking stupid move, she'll admit now. Confessing how she was still not over him, no matter how brutally honest it was, blew up in her face - but how could it not? In response, he could not be more clear about the hurt he wanted to inflict or the line he cut in the sand between them.

She wishes she hated him the way that he hated her. 

“With your band,” he says and she catches how he nearly winces at that, “changing up your sound, it’d make sense for you to play.” He shrugs, looking away from her as soon as she looks up to him. She replies with a sigh, pulling the strap off her shoulder and starting to pack her things up. 

“Everything that had me stop before hasn’t changed. All those old reasons. So, as far as they know, I don't anymore. Simple as that, ” she says. Admitting anything to him feels like a risk now, ammunition for him to use as a competitor but – who else can she talk to about this? She’s not one to share, not one to be vulnerable – not anymore – but there’s just still something about Seven that makes her feel … safe. Safe enough to share. He can and has hurt her in ways he knows no one else can, but he’s never shared her secrets. 

That she knows of. Which is a caution she never thought she’d have to guard herself against. Fool me once...

“Why?” She asks.

“Why what?”

“Why do you care?” 

“I don’t,” he snaps. But sighs tightly as he shifts again, their eyes meeting now as slowly that flare of his anger ebbs. “Just, surprised, I guess. If there would ever be a time for you to show off your playing again, it’d be now.” Something warms in her chest as she reads between the lines. 

“Are you sure that I’m even good anymore? Who knows, I might suck now,” she sets her guitar aside and folds her arms over the back of her seat, perching her chin on her arms as she stares up at him. He snorts and she fights a smile off her lips. It’s dangerous how easy it is to let her guard down around him.

“You’re practicing some kind of wild song in the middle of the night? I doubt you decayed down to, like, Smoke on the Water levels,” he says with a scoff that sounds suspiciously like a laugh. 

“You could tell it was a wild song?” 

“I didn’t hear any notes or anything but the amount of shredding you played was pretty wild,” he admits and she can’t help but chuckle in response. Warmth blooms through her chest and into her fingertips with the thought that he was watching her and with some level of appreciation.

“I mean, I guess you can say that. But it’s really just Randy Rhoads kicking my ass,” she grins and his face lights up with a smile that makes her heart slam against her rib-cage.

At least until both of them snap up to stare at each other in realization of what was happening. 

She drops her head and clears her throat. “But it’s late,” she checks the time – 3:22 AM – and she rolls her lips as she finishes packing up her things. “Big day of hanging out in a bus tomorrow. Probably should get back to bed.” She ventures as she avoids looking at him until her guitar case is zipped closed. Standing in a rush she almost stumbles back from crashing into him. A second of her heart clenching in her chest until it stills, a second of being closer than they’ve been in years, a second of having flashbacks of dozens, of hundreds, of late nights with her playing in their living room and him coaxing her back to sleep, before he scrambles back and puts some space to breathe between them. 

“Right, uh huh,” Seven replies, tugging his hood over his head and jerking the rest of the zipper up his hoodie. “Yep.”

“Sorry that I woke you up, though,” she says suddenly, gently. Bracing into himself now, he glowers at her for a moment before pulling away further. A couple of steps later, a safe distance away, maybe, and he turns back to her. 

“It’s fine. It’s not like it was loud, I just-” he stops himself as he seems to fall into himself for a moment. “Know what it sounds like and-” She cocks her head in confusion as he glances up to her now, almost panicked as he jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “Come back to bed.” She arches an eyebrow, jaw dropping a little before he scowls deeper, “I mean go to sleep!” And with that he’s quick to retreat through the curtain once more as she’s left breathless, ambushed, and, in a strange way, comforted by the gesture. 

As she quietly follows after, she carefully puts her things away and slips silently back into her bunk. Despite the lingering heavy beat of her heart, she curls around her pillow now realizing that while her practice quieted her mind, there was a warmth in the familiarity of their exchange that soothed her as well. 

Sleep takes her before the warning against such a sentiment takes hold.

[sevlawless]

nothing without you

pairing: m!seven lawless x f!mc (arabella aveiro)

word count: 962

warnings: none just arabella going THROUGH IT

tags: @blainehayes @agentdumortain @valcubust-main

notes: so the @infamous-if brain rot is here and it's very fucking real lmfao- ever since i played i have not been able to stop thinking about it and more specifically, how my mc would cope post break up with seven. something something i still love you i still have to live that but how does ANYONE live with that .. anyway here it is! the song arabella sings is honeysuckle by pom pom squad

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

if i'm nothing without you, am i anything at all?

the chorus rattles around in her head long after she stops singing it. she seems to be frozen in place, her thoughts drowning out the ability to do anything else, although she does notice the faint sound of silence. the rest of dead apple have long stopped playing, but no one says anything. they seem to be doing that a lot lately when it comes to her.

she wasn't even supposed to be at this rehearsal, and she even agreed with her bandmates when they suggested she take some time away to process everything. the music can wait while she figures out how to move forward.

but all she can think about is music, all she could think about while she spent the last two weeks trying to pull herself back together is to write songs.

how do you go through something so traumatic and not write about it?

losing sev- just his name passing through her brain is enough to make her eyes clench shut, gripping the microphone stand in front for her tighter.

losing him is the worst pain she's ever felt in her life. how do you go from talking to someone every single day for the past eleven years to suddenly no contact? how does anyone cope with that? she'd really like to know.

it doesn't help that she was so unbelievably in love with him. she never was one to believe in soulmates but no matter how dumb she thought it was, she considered seven to be her's.

a soulmate who now wants nothing to do with you.

she lets out a ragged breath, which prompts someone reaching out to touch her shoulder.

"arabella-" it's rowan, his voice uncharacteristically timid, and it makes her stomach churn. she shrugs his hand off and turns to face him.

"i'm fine," she snaps, wincing at the tone in her voice. he's staring at her pitifully. if she dared to glance at the others they would share the same look.

they were just as much friends with seven as she was. why are they all so fucking concerned for her in particular? a part of her wants to say that if they were so upset about her, they never would have taken that stupid vote in the first place. the vote that ruined everything.

seeing the look on seven's face, the hurt in his eyes, the betrayal-

she can't think about this right now. she's spent the last two weeks trying to move on and fuck if she's about to cry in front of the band over this.

she turns back around, storming toward the exit. as she yanks the door open and slams it behind her, she wonders if anyone will come after her.

they don't.

she can't even get into the car before she's a sobbing mess, hands shaking as she clambers into her vehicle, resting her head against the steering wheel. her hands are balled into tight fists as she considers if punching something would help the pain subside. it didn't help last time.

last time. that night casts an unbearable weight down on her and makes her shoulders shake as she recalls her and seven screaming at each other in drunken rage, both saying things they can never take back. going to a place they could never come back from. when he left she punched a hole in the wall and her hand flares up as a reminder. her bruised knuckles are starting to heal now, and some part of her wishes they weren't. maybe so she could have one last piece of seven to remember him by. just one last trace of the effect he had on her so it didn't feel like the eleven years she spent with him were for nothing.

they can't just be nothing.

right?

that seems to be what they are now- he hasn't talked to her since that night and every day, every hour it feels like she pulls up his contact info out of reflex to tell him something. a joke, a lyric for a song, a text just to tell him she's thinking of him. she always manages to realize what she's doing before she hits send and she doesn't think that will get any easier.

if i'm nothing without you, am i anything at all?

the lyrics she wrote down one night after getting drunk in an attempt to get him out of her brain dance around in her mind again.

she can't remember the person she was before seven. it's not the one who stares back at her now as she wipes her eyes and looks into the rearview mirror.

would she like that person? would they be friends? she never thought about it until now. she never thought she would have to.

how do you move on from someone that was so inexplicably tethered to you? where there was arabella, seven was right there next to her.

she looks across to the passenger seat that seven used to occupy every day and is met with no one there. she sees the grey headrest where a black mop of hair used to lie. she sees the middle console where his fingers used to drum to the beat of whatever was playing through the speakers. she sees the dash where he used to lay his worn out combat boots on.

emptiness eats away at her until all she can do is let out another sob.

some part of her wonders if he even feels a fraction of what she does. he has to. for her own peace of mind, she hopes this has been as hard on him as it has on her.

but she wouldn't know.

[best-underrated-anime]

Best Underrated Anime Group D Round 3: #D3 vs #D1

#D3: Lots of traumatized minors messing each other up bad

#D1: Prohibition era Mafia revenge story

Details and poll under the cut!

#D3: Happy Sugar Life

Summary:

Satou Matsuzaka is a beautiful high schooler who has a reputation for being permissive with men. However, a chance encounter with a young girl named Shio Koube makes Satou realize that this is her first and only true feeling of love.

Telling others that she lives with her aunt, Satou secretly shares an apartment with Shio. Despite her innocent appearance, Satou is willing to do anything to protect her beloved, resorting to desperate measures to ensure that their “happy sugar life” remains intact.

Propaganda:

It is questionable, but in the way that the anime is meant to make you uncomfortable. It’s an uneasy psychological horror. You’re meant to dislike almost the entire cast, so you don’t know who to root for. Yes, the characters are fucked up, but it isn’t glorified as far as I can see.

It made my stomach churn, and I was sobbing at the end because that’s what it was trying to do.

I said it’s not good, meaning it’s not comfortable, and none of the characters are good. But it’s well-written and it’s interesting.

Trigger Warnings:

Child Abuse, Pedophilia (not graphic)

Murder/Violence (one brief scene is semi-violent, but most isn’t shown)

Kidnapping

Rape/Non-Con (not shown, but it’s obvious that it happened/explicitly stated)

Suicide

#D1: 91 Days

Summary:

As a child living in the town of Lawless, Angelo Lagusa has witnessed a tragedy: his parents and younger brother have been mercilessly slaughtered by the Vanetti mafia family. Losing everything he holds dear, he leaves both his name and hometown behind, adopting the new identity of Avilio Bruno. Seven years later, Avilio finally has his chance for revenge when he receives a mysterious letter prompting him to return to Lawless. Obliging, he soon encounters the Vanetti don’s son, Nero, and seeks to befriend him using the skills he has quietly honed for years. Set during the Prohibition era, this show tells the story of Avilio’s dark, bloodstained path to vengeance, as he slowly ends each of the men involved in the killing of his family.

Propaganda:

This series has character designs by the art director of Baccano. In fact, the setting of it being in the early 1920s in America is sort of reminiscent of Baccano. However, the story is much crueler and more grounded than that other famous series, even if it involves a similar amount of guns and blood.

The anime follows a broken and traumatized young man fueled by revenge. It’s a tragedy and a thriller and a Mafia series. We see the lengths Angelo Lagusa goes to avenge his family, whom he’s the last living survivor of. He changes his name and leads a double life, getting close to the Vanetti family, who killed his birth family. But in the process of trying to do this, he gets adopted into this Mafia family.

He must wrestle with his morality as he keeps on the bloody road of revenge. People that don’t deserve to be hurt get hurt or killed because of his actions—even dying by his hands.

It's an anime that shows just how far someone is willing to go for revenge, willing to break everything in his path for it. And considering the Prohibition era came to an end in history, was all the trickery and killing even worth it?

Trigger Warnings: Animal Cruelty/Death, Cannibalism, Emotional Abuse, Graphic Depictions of Cruelty/Violence/Gore, Suicide, Alcohol and Smoking.

This entire series is a mob story so there's lots of guns, blood, and killing. There is an assisted suicide of an important character. Also the family dog dies when the main character's family is massacred in the first episode.

When reblogging and adding your own propaganda, please tag me @best-underrated-anime so that I’ll be sure to see it.

If you want to criticize one of the shows above to give the one you’re rooting for an advantage, then do so constructively. I do not tolerate groundless hate or slander on this blog. If I catch you doing such a thing in the notes, be it in the tags or reblogs, I will block you.

Know one of the shows above and not satisfied with how it’s presented in this tournament? Just fill up this form, where you can submit revisions for taglines, propaganda, trigger warnings, and/or video.

[charminggirl512]

mouthy ma // chibs telford x oc

Chibs Telford x F!OC

Warnings: 18+, language, violence, pregnancy, mentions of sex

Word Count: 1,044

 One of the many perks of working for a company that's owned by my husband's motorcycle club is that he can visit me at work all the time while not really taking time off work during the day. However, there is a definite con; it is usually one of the many targets for their enemies. That's how I ended up where I am now, five months pregnant with our first child and being held at gunpoint on the floor of a porn production studio.

    While it's not my first time being held at gunpoint, it is definitely the first time I've ever been held at gunpoint while pregnant, and my body didn't seem to understand the danger we were in. Our baby boy was kicking my very full bladder and was about to force me to make an already very disgusting floor even grosser. 

"Where are they? Huh? Why aren't they fucking here?" It was always the same questions. You would think that they would get more original over time, but they never do. 

"Well, Juice is over there tied to the chair, so you know where one of them is. I don't normally keep running tabs of all of them, but I'll say that they're probably on their way." If I was genuinely scared, I probably wouldn't be so sassy with them, but I felt like the likelihood that they would hurt a pregnant woman was pretty low. They may be lawless, but they're usually not completely without morals. 

"Such a mouthy little bitch," One of them says as he crouches down next to my face. "I should really shut you up."

    I fight the urge to roll my eyes and just barely suppress it. If my timing was correct, Chibs and most of the guys were at the clubhouse when I hit speed dial on the office phone that went directly to Chibs' cell phone. When I didn't say anything on the phone, he probably heard the men entering Cara Cara and figured out what was going on. It usually takes them about ten minutes to get here, and it took these guys seven minutes to even figure out how to tie Juice up, so they should be here any second now. 

   Right on time, I hear the rumble of half a dozen motorcycles outside and watch as half of the invaders seem to get excited at the prospect of a fight and the other half recognize that they were about to get their asses kicked. Jax is the first to enter, his gun already drawn, and Chibs is close behind him. He automatically scans around, trying to find me, and his eyes burn with rage when he sees me laying on my side with a gun pointed at me. 

"Hi, babe. Will you get rid of them? Baby Telford is really doing a number on my bladder and I really don't want to watch Juice clean my piss off the floor." 

   He scowls at my casualness, but I know that he secretly loves that I can handle intense situations. He holds his eye contact with me as he shoots my attacker in the head and I do my best not to be grossed out by the warm blood that splattered on me. Four more shots fire through the air from various guns and soon all the cracked-out junkies are dead on the floor. They must have been using Darby's shit, with how twitchy they were being. 

   My beautiful Scotsman comes over and gently helps me off the ground. I peck his lips before high-tailing it to the closest bathroom. I try to ignore the glitter coating every surface of the room and rush to pull my underwear down from underneath my dress as Chibs comes in, a dad-lecture begging to come from his mouth. 

"Now, before you lecture me, I just want to remind you that I'm very beautiful, very pregnant, and very willing to suck your cock when we get home. Carry on," I tell him and his lips twitch trying not to smile or laugh. 

"Lamb, I really can't take you seriously when I can see your cat-themed underwear around your knees and hear you pissing out the Atlantic Ocean." 

"Aren't they great? Pussies to cover my pussy," I say being dead-serious and I finally get a laugh out of him. Once I finish my business and wash my hands, he grabs my shoulders and turns me to face him, his face serious once again. 

"I know that you can handle intense situations, Ellie, but I need you to be more careful when you're in them so that I don't end up having a heart attack," He begins and moves one hand down to my bump and the other around the back of my neck. "I don't want anything to happen to the two of you and it'll be more likely that's the outcome if you keep your sassy little mouth shut." 

"I know, baby. I'm sorry and I will sincerely work on it," I answer, and I know that I actually should follow through. In around four months, it won't be just me and Chibs anymore; we'll have a little one to live for too. "Thank you for always being my knight in shining armor." 

"Mhm, anything for my girl," He replies as he finally leans down to properly kiss me for the first time since we both left for work this morning. Of course, we can't have a second to ourselves before our little boy is kicking up a storm. Chibs squats down so that he's level with my stomach and grabs both sides of the bump.

"Hey now, lad. Let your ma and da practice a little more baby-making before you enter the world. You'll get all the attention you want once you're out, but leave us alone until you're actually in the world." His da voice is still perfect from when Kerrianne was a wee babe, and I do my best to ignore the flutter it sends between my legs. He kisses our little one before standing back to his full height. 

"Now, let's go have a little chat with Juice about protecting you better because it really shouldn't involve him being tied to a chair." 

[ashbelero]

[OBEY ME] Decades of Fashion

This was a project I've been working on for a while, but it required a LOT of research to get done.

The idea was this: The boys have lived for thousands of years, and as such, they've had to adhere to certain fashion changes over time. But in the midst of me really wanting to show Beel drinking Pepsi Blue, I realized that each of them really fit into a style over the course of seven decades.

[PLEASE BE WARNED I MAY TOUCH ON CONTROVERSIAL TOPICS HERE]

Lucifer - 1940's [Post-War Americana]

Oh boy, those coats were popular in the 20's and 30's. I thought Lucifer worked well with the vibe of an old-style gangster. But really, this look worn in the 40's would have been one of showing off wealth. During the second world war, we had a shortage on EVERYTHING, including fabric - when nylon was needed for parachutes, women used to draw makeup lines on the backs of their legs to indicate a seam where their stockings would go. As a result, suits in the 40's were trimmed back as far as fabric usage. Coats no longer had capelets around the shoulders, jackets no longer had flaps on the pockets, pants were restricted to a certain width, and 3-piece suits were nonexistent - no one sold suits with vests anymore.

Incidentally, that's why Zoot Suits were so popular in American minority communities - it was a "fuck you" level of luxury to have suits with so much excess fabric!

Mammon - 1950's [Rebel Style]

From gangster to greaser! While we associate Greaser subculture with the likes of James Dean and Marlon Brando, the term actually originated with Hispanic teens - "greaser", in addition to referencing their slicked-back hairstyles, was the name for Mexican workers who greased the wheels of shopping carts, and there was actually a law in California called the "Greaser Act" specifically put in place to protect "law abiding" Californians from these rowdy (but un-armed and non-dangerous) teens.

Not only does the Rebel style really suit Mammon in general, associated with sleek cars and loud boys and an inarguable style, but I've always thought of Mammon as being kind of Latino. However, it also bears noting that Greasers were very anti-materialistic. Sure, you wanted money, but Greaser culture was more geared towards rebelling against the ones who had it.

Leviathan - 1960's [Japanese Ivy]

Post-war Japan had a certain loss of identity as they were occupied by the American military and exposed to cultures from around the world. But by the sixties, Japanese culture was absorbing everything it found and making it their own. The popularity of Disney and TV animation gave rise to anime that began early in the fifties, but was really in its prime by '65, and much of that then spread to the rest of the world. Mach Go Go Go became Speed Racer and Mighty Atom became Astro Boy in the US.  In partIcular, based on Levi's current anime tastes, I think he'd be a huge fan of Cyborg 009 and Mahoutsukai Sally - The original Magical Girl who would eventually lead to the creation of the invented anime The Magical Ruri Hanai: Demon Girl.

But along with animation, Japan absorbed something else in 1964 - American Ivy League fashion. Magazines with spreads of American university students in sweaters, blazers, loafers, and cotton trousers became incredibly popular and inspired a fashion style simply called "Ivy" in Japan - and this style persisted until the mid-eighties!

Satan - 1970's [Collegiate]

'70's fashion in America was lawless. As the youth of the day broke free from society's constraints and pursued their own agendas, they brought with them a rebellion of peace and love that had been brewing with every fight and war since the 40's. As opposed to the Mod fashion of the 60's, modern fashion was more about comfort and natural colors.... and bellbottoms. So many bellbottoms. But there were no fucking rules. Wear your jacket on one shoulder or two or none, mix colors and patterns, wear that corduroy jacket with the suede elbow patches, fuck you dad, I went to college!

I feel like it also bears mentioning that god DAMN, white belts with gold buckles were weirdly popular.

Asmodeus - 1980's [Pop Trend]

Pop culture was skyrocketing in the eighties, as was the sheer accessibility of fashion. It was never as cheap to wear the hottest trends as it was here. Stars like Madonna popularized the inexpensive, bright-colored messes of style that the day's teens HAD to have. Plastic jewelry, acid-washed jeans, hair-wrecking crimping and curling, bright and heavy makeup... and leotards for EVERYONE. Jazzercise and videotape aerobics also threw their hats in... or rather, their leg warmers and tights.

And while it doesn't have much to do with fashion, I could see Asmo being at his absolute prime here... Queer community and sexuality was coming out of hiding around here, and with it, the stigma and horror associated with the gay agenda, promiscuity, and the AIDS epidemic. Fuck those assholes.

Beelzebub - 1990's [Urban Sport]

The 90's were... experimental. As we entered the Internet age and the approach of the new millennium, a lot of shit happened. Hip-Hop and R&B culture that began in the late eighties influenced a lot outside its own minority sphere, from fashion to music to celebrity. Things once worn as sport gear, windbreakers and basketball shoes and baseball hats, were adapted to the increasing physical presence of stars in music videos and movies. (I don't really know how much of a position I'm in to talk about how much cultural appropriation inspired a lot of that, but it did. And then they talked smack on the sources they got their shit from.)

As for those stupid parachute pants with the zip-off bottoms... I don't know whose fault that was. The Y2k bug, I guess. Swatches were cool though.

But Beelzebub probably would have been going nuts with all the experimental snack foods we loved back then. Soda with little chewable balls of questionable origin? 3D nacho chips? Yogurt in a TUBE? HOT POCKETS!? A glutton's paradise. I drank Crystal pepsi when they rereleased it and it tasted like old bubblegum. shit's nasty.

Belphegor - 2000's [Emo/Goth]

This is it. This is what years of punk, grunge, goth, and The Cure led to at the turn of the millennium. We took Tripp pants that were popular in blue denim in the nineties and put so much shit on them that it was hard to walk, but we DID IT. Because it looked cool. Do you hate life? Do you hate everyone? Smear liner in your eyeballs and belt your legs together in two denim dresses, and wear bracelets and belts that get banned at high school because someone started an urban legend where you have to have sex with someone if they snap your black jelly bracelet off. That shit never happened but damn if they didn't try to convince us it did.

Emo and goth subculture was actually seen as pretty toxic. And I can say that because I was in it. People who did this stuff were seen as idolizing self-harm and suicide. Some people actually did. Most of us probably approached it the same way zoomers gleefully post memes about ending themselves all the time. In Belphegor's case... yeah, he probably does hate the world.

Thank you so much to my patrons who made this post possible!

patreon | ko-fi

[xthunderbolt]

Some romanian myths and legends I grew up with that might be relevant to Servamp somehow

Romania has A LOT of myths and legends, especially about vampires and spirits, and all of them depend on the area you go to. Most myths you might have heard come from Transylvania because of Dracula, but these are all from my grandparents' area and the area I grew up in, which is a little far from Transylvania. Also a little warning: we are weird.

1. VAMPIRES ARE DESCENDANTS OF DEMONS

This is a pretty popular one, and the reason for it is Vlad Tepes. It's said that he made a blood pact with the devil for him to become a vampire, and what do we have in Servamp?

If the text ain't clear enough, it's about how Sensei's reincarnation technique is similar to that of a Servamp's creation and how it includes the vessel drinking the blood of the core. And sure, maybe it's not the blood pact we've read in stories and seen in movies, but... the blood is offered (forcefully or not), so it's like a pact made between the vessel and the core, a pact for immortality.

It's also believed that after death, the demon they made the pact with, takes them with them in the underworld and turns them to demons. And in Servamp we have the Inners who practically turned some humans into vampires by becoming part of them, and I think we could consider the underworld their inner world, since it's also part of the Servamp.

2. STRIGOI (stree-go-ee)

I actually wanted to turn the myths about them into a Servamp theory because there are a lot of similarities between them, but we still have yet to learn a lot about Servamps and their Inners.

Nowadays, they're called evil spirits who come to torment their families and friends who did them wrong during their life (similar to poltergeists). Back in the day, they were called living dead or vampires. It was believed to be the actual dead who got up of their graves and went to torment their families and friends and even to kill them for, you guessed right, blood.

It's also believed that strigoi can change into animals, usually bats or black cats. And what do we have in Servamp?

Plus the other Servamps with their animal forms.

And Hugh is the fucking representation of a traditional vampire c'moooon.

And it's not over.

They only got out of their graves at night because they couldn't maintain their human forms in the sunlight. And what do we have in Servamp?

But here's another super interesting thing. There are many ways to kill one, but one of the methods used in my grandparents' area was to put a wooden or silver stake through them - usually the chest to pierce the heart - so that they wouldn't get out of their graves anymore.

And what do we have in Servamp?

They also used to open up their graves when the sun was the strongest so "they'd burn the strigoi in them", but this is not relevant to Servamp.

But wait, there's more! In some cases, strigoi are born with weird conditions, but in most cases, it was believed that the people most likely to turn into strigoi, were the ones who

Practiced witchcraft (though looking back at the stuff we do/did, we all practice(d) witchcraft dkdksk)

Lived in heavy sin

Died of su!c!de

Died a tragic death

Born the seventh child of the same sex

It's not known yet how Servamps died but I mentioned these because all of us headcanon that they died in tragic ways. Plus there are seven vampires, though I know that this is related to their sins, but the coincidence it's interesting.

3. MOROI (moh-roh-ee)

These are like... a lower class of Strigoi I think I could say. The only difference between them is that these ones aren't as strong and dangerous. And they only come to kill and eat animals.

But what do we have in Servamp?

Subclasses. (I can't add pics anymore so imagine here a pic of Belkia and Hugh and Kuro talking about them.)

4. TO KEEP EVIL SPIRITS OR STRIGOI AWAY FROM YOUR HOME, YOU HAVE TO PUT GARLIC BY ALL YOUR WINDOWS OR CLEAN THE OUTSIDE AREA AROUND YOUR HOUSE WITH A BROOM MADE OF OAK OR PINE BRANCHES AND THEN LEAVE IT BY THE ENTRANCE DOOR (we're weird, ok?)

But here's our traditional whoosh-spirits-away broom and what we have in Servamp.

5. BLACK CATS

Hilariously enough, even if it's believed that Strigoi can take their form, we don't consider them bad luck. Unless they cross your path. And if this happens, you gotta take three steps back and spit three times (WE'RE WEIRD, OK?), one it's to ward off the bad luck, one so the cat won't take a life away and one I forgot.

But the thing related to Servamp here is that we consider it good luck to keep a black cat around your house. Not only it keeps evil spirits away, but it also brings in health because of the myth of their nine lives. And Kuro considers himself a soothing/healing cat.

6. TO LIFT GENERATION CURSES PUT ON YOUR FAMILY YOU GOTTA PUT A VIRGIN ON A HORSE AND HAVE THEM SURROUND YOUR HOUSE FOR EACH CURSED GENERATION. WHEN THE HORSE DIES, THE CURSE IS LIFTED (I'm sorry we're so cruel)

And we have this sexy motherfucker on a skeleton horse AND I'M NOT SAYING HE'S A VIRGIN, BUT WHO KNOWS? 👀

7. IF SOMEONE DIES AT A YOUNG AGE OR BEFORE GETTING MARRIED YOU GOTTA GIVE THEM A SILVER JEWERLY - USUALLY A RING - SO THEY WON'T COME BACK TO LOOK FOR A SPOUSE OR TAKE SOMEONE FROM THE FAMILY THEY WERE CLOSE WITH WITH THEM (example: my aunt lost a 12yo daughter and they forgot to give her the silver necklace. Four months later, her sister died, who she was very close with)

But whatever, here's Lawless with what I think is silver besides the gold.

PLEASE NOTICE HIS PURPLE UNDERWEAR

[animebw]

Reading One Piece: Chapters 697-698

-So Kaido the Beast King is the power ceiling in this world? Interesting...

-”If we don’t keep talkin’ mess about them, then we’ll have to admit... that we love those lawless vagabonds!” Aaaaaaaw, that’s sweet.

-”When we grow up, we’ll be pirates just like you!” See? They’re already changing the world for the better. Showing the kids a better way. It’s a small step, but it’s a step.

-OH CHRIST I FORGOT THIS ASSHOLE WAS ON HIS WAY.

-Well, shit, Law certainly knows how to set up a gristly message. I mean, I know they’re still alive, but still. Yeesh.

-Hahahaha holy shit, Law’s even got Doflamingo sweating a little. Imagine telling one of the seven warlords to abandon his position or face the consequences. That takes serious cojones.

-Unfortunately, there’s one problem with that line of attack.

It’s got one of the most dangerous men on the seas pissed the fuck off.

-YEP. THAT’S DEFINITELY HAKI. HOOOOOOOOOO BOY.

-”I’m getting the sense that you know too much!” why is he so terrifying Jesus Christ

-”Oh yeah, we better explain the plan!” skdjfhsdkf Luffy I swear to god you need to stop letting these things slip your mind

-”A word of warning, Luffy’s definition of ‘alliance’ is probably different than yours.” Lol, yep.

-And with that, our new mission is set. Sail to Dressrosa, smash up the other Fake Fruit factory, and bring Doflamingo’s empire crumbling down. And maybe save some samurai dude along the way, idk.

-”Pardon me, buddy. Would you mind getting off him? He’s an old friend.” HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY FUCKING SHIT

[uldren-sov]

On the dotted line

just an idea that wouldn't leave me alone. getting THE TATTOO. naturally this got WAY AWAY FROM ME but their dynamic is just so fun to me at this stage so I had to really go for it you know. some pre-relationship Camy and Seven. ~2k words. Little @infamous-if fic Camy Rose is mine! The band and Seven are canon

Nerves that feel equal parts firecracker and fear light up her skin as Camy Rose is dragged along the dirty sidewalk. Maybe she should protest more, dig her heels in more, grab her best friend by the shoulders and shake him until he saw reason, but there was something about Seven Lawless that always keeps her along for the ride. So, instead of trying to sober up, trying to come to her senses, and trying to tell him this was his worst idea to date, she lets herself be dragged by the cuff of the leather jacket she stole from him toward a hole-in-the-wall tattoo parlor they saw a street away from their latest gig.

It was finally going to happen, and it was going to happen tonight.

Her fault, really, for years she's been saying that she always wanted a tattoo and with the success of their latest show Seven concluded that this was the best time to get one. When she shot that down, he doubled down to sweeten the deal: if she got one, then so would he. "Design pending," he clarified. And after a few drinks, mixing and matching alcohol? Sure, why not make a decision she could regret for the rest of her life.

"Yeah, let's do it," she said. With a cheer and a tug on her wrist she was immediately dragged away. But that was back at the after-party and not on the way to the actual store. Whatever buzz of bravery she had because of the alcohol started to fade, replaced by those building nerves.

"I'm not letting you chicken out this time!" He says, his wild, glittering, gaze matched only by his grin. It's infectious and despite everything, she had to admit, it was a great night to do something stupid like this, so long as she shared it with him. It was a great show and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't down to celebrate. With this paycheck she could check off rent being paid, bills being paid, and still have some money left over to play with.

They're even invited back next week. She had no excuses left, no reasons left to worry.

"I'm not chickening out!" She says, deciding in that moment to just say fuck it and jump off that cliff along with him. Matching his step, his gait, his eyes, his energy, she slips her hand in his, clutching on tight. "So long as you're not."

Fingers lace with hers and she can't help but still feel tipsy as she spills with laughter, tugging him to a stop after hearing Jazzy calling out to them. Seven swings back to face her as she swings their hands between them, warmth racing up her arm at the gesture. A furrow of his brows and she knows what he'll say as he leans in. More and more he's pulled weird reactions from her even when they haven't acted any different. Like now, they close the distance between each other and that warmth burns into something hotter, something heavy that settles on her cheeks. It's so dumb! She blames the alcohol as she chuckles a little, trying to disperse the heat in her veins.

His bandana presses into the crown of her head as she tries to hold his bright gaze in the blurry space between them. "No way. We're doing this and when we look at this tattoo, we're going to remember that this was the night that everything changed," he vowed, giving her hand a squeeze.

Her heart betrays her as it stutters in her chest. It's not the first time she's caught between not wanting anything to change between herself and her friends, and desperately wanting a change just between the two of them. And the realization that maybe, just maybe, she's wanted that change for a long time now is terrifying. If she thinks too long about how it feels as they gently sway there, how the tip of his nose brushed over hers, how his breath hits her lips, she'll do something stupid, she knows, so instead she screws her face up and presses him back with her head. She burns pathetically now that there's some space between them and even in her tipsy state she starts to wrestle down those thoughts again.

"So dramatic," she rolls her eyes with a grin. "Or this is just going to be a normal tattoo, or like, our gateway tattoo to a bunch more and that's it." She nudges her shoulder into his side and he squirms.

"All I'm hearing is that I'm going to have the biggest 'I told you so' of my life when we're older and it turns out I was right," he says, hip checking her in retaliation. Stumbling away a step she bursts out laughing and lets go of his hand, shaking off the sparkling warmth in her fingertips before she waves over the rest of their friends who finally caught up.

---

A half-dozen bad ideas later and all six of them finally managed to pull away from all the designs hung on the walls of the cramped store. Since it was decided there was no way to perfectly represent this moment -- and we'd need way more time to design it out, or so Seven had said -- they both settled on something that felt simpler but somehow even more important: their friendship. They'd sign their initials on each others wrists, like they were sealing some kind of evil contract to always be together, through these moments and others.

Camy clocks the wary glance from the artist as they hand them both sharpies. She has the clarification, that, no, this isn't a couple thing, chambered on the tip of her tongue, but Rowan is quicker on the draw.

"Name a more iconic duo than you two and being mistaken for a couple," he says as Seven shakes his head with a scoff, already rolling up his sleeve.

"Iris and Devyn," she quips back as Jazzy aww's teasingly. She grins in the face of the bird Iris flips her way and Devyn's blush, before walking toward the actual station instead of the pseudo-waiting area at the front of the store. As she and Seven take their seats beside each other she idles a moment, staring after the artist setting up further back in the store, allowing the nerves settle in her gut again as she looks after the needle gun, the black ink.

"Hey," Seven's voice is in her ear as she draws her attention back. "Which arm are you sacrificing?" He smiles and it's magic how her nerves just seem to immediately burn off. She hunches closer to him.

"Right one." She nods.

"Really? Main hand?"

"Mic hand, too."

"Wow," he drawls, "this really is special to you, huh?" She snickers and nudges him.

"Big talk from the guy who jumped at the chance to have my name on his skin," she says, looking from under her eyelashes for effect. For a moment his back straightens, his eyes widen, and her heart stalls, waiting for ... something. As quickly as he reacted, it's gone, and in the next heartbeat she remembers how to breathe.

"Someone had to. It's not like other people are exactly lining up to make it happen, Camy," he shoots back with a smirk as her mouth drops open in faux outrage. "You're lucky I'm so generous and taking one for the team."

"First of all! Rude!" She scoffs into a laugh as he grins in her face. "I've had - so many dates, with so many people." He snorts, unimpressed as he rips the top off his sharpie.

"Your last girlfriend was when you started college and that lasted for roughly a month," he says without missing a beat. Weird.

"So what?"

"That was like 11 months ago."

"Well I have a full schedule: focusing on my studies and our band and my job."

"You're really going for the 'I'm focusing on my career' excuse?"

"And I've been on dates since then, by the way! It's not my fault they don't get me."

She meant it as a joke but as Seven presses her hand back at her wrist to start writing he suddenly cuts his gaze to her over his shoulder. There it is again, that stutter, that weight, that heat that blooms under her skin. Because she sees it, but she doesn't know if she really sees it or if she just wants it to be there, that look of his that seems to say 'but I do.'

She can't think about that now. No, she won't think about that now. Especially not when they're sitting so close, not when Seven can feel her pulse race under his fingertips, and not when he's looking at her like that. Like he sometimes does when waking up after a long night of songwriting and hanging out at her apartment, wrapped and tangled up in each other. That heat settles heavy on her skin again as she searches his suddenly dark green eyes.

She should ask him to be her roommate. No, she must still be tipsy. Would that be a bad idea? It seems like a bad idea.

Or the best, she thinks, glancing down to his mouth.

The sharpie cap clatters to the floor and she blinks out of it, pulling back -- when did she lean so far in? -- as she mirrors a sheepish grin from Seven.

"Yeah, well," he suddenly clears his throat, glancing to her and away quickly as he scoops up the sharpie top. "Guess you have to keep trying."

"Not that this is going to help," her smile is shaky in return as the vanishing heat leaves her winded and off balance, despite the alcohol. "How about you, what hand?"

"Left, my mic hand." A small but long-standing debate between them hanging in the background of his declaration.

"Our tattoos will even fit together if we hold hands." She gasps sarcastically as she smiles teasingly his way. An unimpressed narrow of his eyes and Seven suddenly crowds over her arm as she feels a pinpoint of pressure on her wrist.

"I changed my mind. I'm drawing a dick so that everyone knows what you are," he states. She yelps and fights her hand free from his hold amidst their chorus of laughs. A short back and forth and he reveals that the pressure on her skin was just the back of his pen. Seven crows over just how much she fell for it as she grudgingly scrapes together what dignity she has left.

They joke until they finish the draft of their tattoos. She lines their wrists up, black ink on olive and russet skin, the start of something permanent. If she were more sentimental like Seven the moment might mean something more. He might say something about the two of them literally making a mark on each other, or something like it's not only their names but their handwriting, something as unique as a fingerprint, and it's on each others skin.

CR SD

But she's not. She saves all that for him and for those moments where they write and sing in a way she doesn't dare to with anyone else. Instead, as the artist returns, she just says the truth in the simplest way she knows how:

"Forever?"

"Forever."

They hold their hands tight as the needle whirs to life.

[chantersboard]

In honor of Cyberpunk 2077′s anniversary, here’s a tiny bit that’s been sitting in my docs for almost a year. 

A previous V/River story can be found on tumblr HERE or the series is on AO3 HERE <3

Old Friends

“I killed a man yesterday.”

River lowered the beer he was drinking and looked across the plastic picnic table at V. She was staring down the road, watching the dry dirt dance in the wind. The setting sun painted her orange and made the metal embedded in her face glitter. He waited for her to say something else, instead, she raised a bottle of tequila to her lips and took a long sip.

She didn’t turn to look at him, only kept her eyes towards the water tower at the end of the block. “On the radio Stanley said there were twenty-seven murders yesterday. A big chunk of them came from Heywood. Only one of them was mine. I’m sure the NCPD simply wrote it off as another gang related death. I guess they’d be right in a way.

“Padre asked me to zero him. Some old head that killed his friends back in his Valentino days. The guy fled to the east and was hiding since, but the gonk came back, he must’ve thought it was safe. The job was simple. Get in, flatline ‘im, get out. It all happened quietly, no one even knew I was there. Padre sent the scratch for the gig and that was it. Easy. I didn’t think much about killing him, it was just another job.”

She turned and looked at him then, her eyes alert and sober despite the half empty bottle of tequila. “I need you to know this is who I am.”

An AV flew by above them, filling the silence with the hum of its turbofans. River tried to understand where this was going. He knew she was a mercenary, it was how they met. And when he needed help the most, when he needed to save his nephew Randy, her skills immediately came to mind. River was able to save him because of her and what she was capable of.

That was a few weeks ago. Since then they’d spent time together, sharing laughs and playfully flirting. “I know who you are, V. I know what you do.”

She shook her head. “But do you understand? I watched you all day today. I saw how you are with Joss and the kids. How you carried those groceries for your neighbor. And then there’s the way you handled Peter Pan. You’re kind and honest and incorruptible and a fucking cop.”

“Ex-cop,” he corrected.

She scoffed. “Everything else still stands. All of that isn’t me. I steal for eddies. I cheat and intimidate. I am the reason there got to be twenty-seven murders yesterday.” Feeling the start of a headache she briefly closed her eyes. Recently, there were more headaches than not. She absently ran a finger over the port behind her ear that held the relic. Johnny was awfully quiet today.

“I rescued a ripperdoc once,” feeling too confined in her seat she stood up and paced. “I needed to end a few scavs to get to her. She had asked me if I felt anything when I killed. I never got to answer her but I would’ve said I didn’t. Is that the kind of person you want to be with? Before this gets serious, before one of us gets hurt, are you okay with that?”

If someone asked him that a few years ago he would have said no. Ever since he was young he built protection around himself from criminals and the morally corrupt. He needed to be strong and just, not only for his own sanity but also for the victims of the hell that is Night City. There was no way he would’ve allowed a criminal into his heart. He couldn’t let that darkness in.

But he couldn’t stay hardened forever. Life wore him down—one dead partner, another behind a political cover up, his falling out with Joss, the twisted kidnapping of family. He was forced to see things differently. He would still never compromise his beliefs but he was beginning to understand not everything was black or white, good or evil.

Yes, V was a criminal. She lived in a world of lawlessness. Still, she had loyalty and conviction. She’d kill if it meant saving others. She’d steal from the wealthy and the corrupt. She was a good person, he could tell, but she was also a byproduct of the streets.

V was still pacing. She was growing more anxious with each passing moment. What the fuck was she doing? Could she even handle him saying no? For the first time since Konpeki Plaza she was happy. River brought a brightness into her life she thought she’d never feel again, not with whatever time she had left.

She was still unsure how to handle him being an officer. It was odd. She spent her life dodging badges, now she wanted to be with one? She would probably never get used to that idea, Johnny definitely wouldn’t, but it is a part of who he is and she cared for him in spite of it.

A street lamp flickered on above them, the orange glow of the day all faded into the blue of night. “Like I said,” River rose from his chair and stepped to her. “I know who you are. I’m okay with that.”

He could see her anxiety lifting as she shakily exhaled. Her signature frown softened as she closed her eyes and pressed her forehead into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in, his broad shoulders enveloping her. She felt safe in his arms.

And so it starts. For the first time since coming to the trailer park Johnny spoke. Jesus Christ, V.

River grabbed V’s chin and lifted her face. He circled her lips with his thumb, the feeling of his cybernetic prosthetic unfamiliar and arousing to her. She wanted to kiss him. For days now she wanted to kiss him but was too afraid of hurting him. She still hadn’t told him about Johnny. She hadn’t explained she was dying. There were already too many people she was going to hurt if she didn’t find a miracle. Could she bear to add River and his family to that list?

Consumed with desire she pushed her fear away and brought her lips to his. He passionately kissed back, bringing his hand to the back of her neck to pull her even closer. V melted into him, gripping his tank top for purchase as their kiss continued.

She hadn’t realized just how desperately she wanted him. The longer they embraced, the more she needed. She would have stayed there surrounded by the desert and dry heat and River’s arms for as long as time would have allowed but there came a shriek from behind her.

“Ewww!” A tiny voice yelped. “Uncle River and V are kissing!”

Lust still woven into their breaths the couple pulled apart, interrupted by a small child. V glanced back just in time to see Dorian disappear from behind the curtains. She looked back to River who began to laugh. “What a little punk.”

River’s happiness was infectious. V felt a lightness in her chest and before she knew it she was laughing too. “River, I like being around you.” She took her hand into his needing to feel his touch. “Let’s give this a try?”

He gave her hand an affectionate squeeze. “Let’s give this a try.”

[sevlawless]

Hiiii can we please talk about the newest Seven POV that just dropped because I’m shitting crying throwing up. Me and my mc are both fucking FOOLS for Seven but getting a real look at just how much Seven hates MC made me like. SOB BRO? SEVEN HOW DO YOU NOT GET THAT UR ALSO IN THE WRONG U SELFISH ASS! I’m curious if Arabella was able to hear Seven’s internal thoughts about her, what would she really think??

(Hope it’s okay to talk about infamous in ur ask box!! You’ve been one of fave blogs since wayhaven and I don’t have any mutuals to discuss w hahaha)

NO HONESTLY 😭😭 I WAS BANGING MY HEAD AGAINST THE WALL PLAYING LIKE MFER YOU ARE SO SICK !!!!! but i also eat it up LMFAOKSJSNSBSNSJ that is just the duality of being a seven lawless stannie 💔

seven being so delusional and overdramatic never fails to make me bust out laughing like KSKSJDBDBDNDKD you are sending yourself into a crisis DAILY over mc and then you have the nerve to be like "i hate them im better off without them" GET UP !

also hm i feel like arabella already tells herself in her head that seven hates her (when that is obviously not true LMFAO) so if she heard their inner thoughts she wouldn't be surprised in the slightest. i feel like they both expect a level of hatred toward each other when in reality ... so ig they rlly are perfect for one another in that sense

and please u can ALWAYS send infamous asks i will always entertain the brainrot <3 also omg not u being a natesewell/sevlawless veteran thank u for ur service 🫡 LMFAOSKSKNSNS

[taehyungs-perm]

midnight love - ch.2

midnight love collab w @jimins-filter

jimin x reader; superhero au; childhood best friends to lovers au; ceo, billionaire philanthropist, playboy!jimin

genre: angst; lowkey funny; eventual smut 

summary: playboy park jimin comes back to seoul city after disappearing for six years; too much has changed, especially you. living out your nights as nyx, seoul city’s dark knight, is a secret you’ve kept for as long as jimin’s disappeared. but what happens when a new hero named eros comes into town just as park jimin shows up at your front door...

teaser 

chapter 1

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter 2 Sixty-six, sixty-seven, sixty-eight, Jimin counted in his mind, pulling himself up to the bar. His muscles tightened with every pull and he let out a groan as he finally finished his last rep. He wiped the sweat off his brow, panting as he dropped from the pull up bar. Grabbing the towel hanging from the hook, he wiped the dripping sweat off of his body as he made his way to the bench to retrieve his water bottle. Distantly he heard the doors of the gym open with an unmistakable creak, but he paid no mind as he chugged the water, appreciating the cool liquid against his throat.

“Long time no see,” he heard a familiar deep voice echo through the room.

Jimin quickly whirred around to see who entered the gym. It was Kim Taehyung, his childhood best friend and most trusted advisor (and on most occasions, his drinking buddy). Jimin immediately broke into a smile, his eyes squinting, at the familiar sight of Tae’s curls and his expensive fashion taste. He ran to his friend, ready to engulf him in a koala hug.

“Taehyung!” Jimin embraced his friend, feeling the most happy he’s been in the while.

“Jimin, this is Gucci! Take a shower first,” Tae said, attempting to push Jimin away, laughing all at the same time. He ruffled Jimin’s soft black hair affectionately. “I see you’ve grown a little.” 

“Shut up. I could still beat up your ass.” Jimin jokes, batting Tae’s hand away.

“No doubt,” Tae said, inspecting Jimin’s abs with a raised eyebrow. “Wherever you’ve disappeared to in the last six years has prepared you for an apocalypse.”

“On a serious note, thank you Taehyung. For taking care of Park Enterprises while I was away.”

“Of course man. Park Enterprises is everything to me, to you, to your family. I would do everything in my power to keep it going.”

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that.”

“But I suspect you didn’t call me here just to say thanks.” Taehyung said, sliding his hands into the pockets of his brown trousers.

“Well I was hoping to see you at my party a few days before, but…” Jimin trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Not all of us can be playboys, Park. Some of us got jobs. Some of us have to do your job.” Taehyung smirked.

“I’m turning over a new leaf, Taehyung.”

“Good one,” Taehyung laughed.

“I’m being serious. I need your help.” Jimin said solemnly.

“What sort of help?”

“You still design suits?”

“Of course. The other day I designed a 3 piece velvet suit complete with a waistcoat—”

Jimin chuckled nervously, “I’m not talking about that kind of suit.”

Taehyung wrinkled his eyebrows in confusion, “Jimin, what exactly are you planning?”

“Seoul needs my help.”

“Your help? As Park Jimin, CEO of Park Enterprises?”

“No, Seoul needs my help as someone else.”

Taehyung sat down on the workout bench slowly, trying to piece together the full meaning of what Jimin wanted, “You’re not a vigilante.”

“I could be. And I don’t want to think of myself as some lawless criminal.”

“But that’s exactly what you would be Jimin! You’re not seriously thinking about putting on some jumpsuit and beating up random people!”

“I’m not going to be beating up random people. I’m taking care of the people of Seoul. That’s what Nyx is doing and the city loves her!”

“One vigilante is enough. Seoul doesn’t need someone else running against the law.”

Jimn paused, “I just...think this city needs some help.”

“What? You don’t think Nyx is doing enough?”

“I think Nyx is one person against an entire corrupt city. She needs help.”

“What if she doesn’t want it?”

“It doesn't matter what she wants. It’s about what the city needs.” 

“From whom does she need help from exactly?”

“Eros.”

“Eros? As in the god of love?” Taehyung questioned, cracking a smile.

“Shut up man. The dude’s a beast with his arrows and shit.”

“I assume this is what you’re training for? What you have been training for?”

Jimin crossed his arms and nodded, “It wasn’t my intention at first I guess. But once I left Seoul I realized what a mess it was, how it was infested to the brim with criminals and dangers. I want to save Seoul. I want to be a hero but I don’t want anyone I love to get hurt so I have to keep my identity a secret.”

Taehyung went silent for a few minutes before breaking the silence, “Told ______ about your little plan?”

“Fuck no. She would lose her mind. I just got on her good side, I’m not about to mess it all up.”

“How did you manage to get on her good side already? Last time I talked to her she was pissed as hell at you.”

Jimin smirked, “Guess it was that classic Park charm.”

“You do know she has a boyfriend?” Taehyung looked at Jimin with apprehension.

“I know.” was all Jimin said. He didn’t want to add the tiny, embarrassing detail that she told him when he was about to kiss her. 

“That’s rough buddy.” 

“Have you met the guy?” Jimin asked with a jealous tone.

Taehyung nodded, “He’s really cool. And he’s really good for ______.”

“Is that your not-so-subtle way of telling me to fuck off?”

“I’m just saying man, you’ve been gone a long time. People change. ______’s changed. You had your chance back in college, but you were too busy caring about your fuckboy reputation. Just be her friend, it’s what she really needs and it's what you really need.”

“I hate when you're right.”

Taehyung stood up and patted Jimin’s arm comfortingly, “So, tell me a little about what kind of suit you’re looking for.”

Jimin smiled then led Taehyung over to his workshop desk with various blueprints, “I need something functional yet fast. I need to be protected but be able to move quickly. Something made out of carbon fiber?”

Taehyung scanned the blueprints, different designs of suits that were in shades of black and red. Taehyung rubbed his chin in thought, “When do you need this by?”

“This weekend?” Jimin asked hopefully.

“I can make that work, but you gotta do something for me in return.”

“What is it? I'll do anything.”

“You gotta show up at your fucking job.” Taehyung said smiling as he rolled up the blueprint, tucking them at his side.

“Taehyung, thank you. I mean it.” Jimin said, earnestly.

Taehyung winked at him as he opened the gym doors and left. 

True to his word, Jimin showed up to work bright and early. As he walked into Park Enterprises, he swore he saw a few of the employees fall out of their chair at the sight of him alive and well. That, and the fact that he showed up to work for once. He opened the door to his office and saw that it remained relatively untouched. One wall was taken up with floor-to-ceiling windows while another was decorated with an array of sleek black cabinets.Jimin made his way to the big, glass desk in the middle of the room and logged onto his computer (he couldn't believe his account hadn’t been deleted after all these years). It had been far too long. He didn’t even know where to start but he decided maybe going through his overflowing inbox was a beginning. After staring at his computer screen for what felt like hours, Jimin’s attention was caught by the sound of his office door opening. He was completely shocked at the figure in his doorway. 

“Yoongi-ssi?” Jimin quickly bowed, remembering his formalities and the respect he had for his mentor. He was after all the one who had taken Jimin under his wing and trained him, taught him what real fear was.  Jimin was taken aback at Yoongi’s appearance; he had only seen Yoongi wearing the traditional hanbok yet here he was in a full beige three piece suit, handkerchief and all. 

Yoongi walked over cooly with his hands in his pocket, a clear demeanor of confidence, “Nice office you got here Jimin. I see why you left.”

A spark of nervousness flew through Jimin’s body, “I wasn’t aware you were stopping by or that you were even in the city,” he replied levelly.

Yoongi slowly sat in Jimin’s chair, crossing his legs, “I just came to see the city you’ve talked so much about. I wanted to see how you are doing. Adjusting well, I presume?” His voice had a tone of sarcasm layered underneath it, but that was typical of Yoongi.

Jimin decided to play along with his game, his steely gaze locked on to Yoongi,  “Yes, I’ve missed my city and my home. It’s good to be back.”

“I hope you haven’t returned to old habits.” Yoongi looked at Jimin with a glint in his eyes, a sly smile playing on his lips. 

Under normal circumstances, Jimin would’ve buckled under Yoongi’s intense stare. But he’d spent the better part of the last six years under Yoongi’s guidance, and he was well trained from not shying away from his old mentor.“Of course not Yoongi-ssi.” Jimin replied coolly.

“Lying is not tolerable in our mantra, if you recall.” Yoongi said sternly.

Jimin’s face flared in embarrassment, “I’m sorry, Yoongi-ssi. I wouldn’t count it as old habits to be honest. One night of fun is hardly an indicator of me going back to the old days.”

“I guess. So, with the knowledge and training you’ve been given, what exactly is your plan?”

Jimin’s entire body went stiff. As much as he respected his mentor, there was something off about his behavior: the way that he just suddenly appeared in Seoul, in Jimin’s office. Yoongi had always been a bit standoffish but never cold towards his mentees; something strange was going on. Jimin needed to figure out why Yoongi was really in Seoul

.Ignoring Yoongi’s question, Jimin cleared his throat, “Yoongi-ssi, what are you really doing here in Seoul?”

Yoongi smirked at his pupil’s clear avoidance of his own question, “Nothing really, some sightseeing, some investing. There is some great property here in Seoul.”

Jimin egged him on further, “Are you thinking about purchasing an apartment or..”

“Perhaps. Maybe some buildings as well. I’ll have to do some more research.”

Jimin narrowed his eyebrows, confused. Yoongi had never expressed any interest in buying property in Seoul before, not once in the six years Jimin knew him. 

“Why?” Jimin asked lightly, trying not to tip Yoongi off of his suspicions.

Yoongi picked up a pen laying on Jimin’s desk. He twirled it around in his fingers and spoke nonchalantly, “Just diversifying my income.”

Suddenly Yoongi’s phone started to ring. Yoongi pulled his phone out of his inside coat pocket and stood up, “I have to take this. But it was nice seeing you Jimin. I hope we can sit down and have a proper chat later.” 

Jimin bowed again at his mentor as Yoongi left his office. The moment the door closed, Jimin sat down and exhaled a deep breath. What was Yoongi-ssi doing here? Why is he investing property in Seoul?

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

When Jimin returned to his empty apartment that night, the last thing he wanted to do was be alone. For a moment, he thought about calling ______. But after his last encounter with you, he thought it best to give you space. Instead, he dialed Namjoon to tell him to come over (and to bring food as well).

When the elevator doors clicked open, Jimin saw Namjoon stride over to him, holding a bag full of Korean takeout. Namjoon was wearing his regular attire: an oversized jacket with a cap nestled on his soft brown hair. He smiled as he saw Jimin, a deep dimple forming on both cheeks.

“How was the first day of work?” Namjoon said, plopping down on the couch across from Jimin.

“Sucked ass. I have literally no idea what I’m doing. How the fuck have you and Taehyung been doing this for six years?” Jimin said, laying his head back on the couch. 

“I ask myself that question everyday,” Namjoon laughed as he began taking out plastic containers of food.

Namjoon handed a pair of chopsticks to Jimin and pushed a container towards him, “Eat. You’ve had a long day.”

Jimin smiled at his friend and began to eat the bowl of japchae in front of him, “Have you talked to Taehyung?”

Namjoon nodded, “I think he’s honestly trying to wrap his head around it still but he’s working on your suit and it’s coming along pretty well.”

“You’ve seen it?”

“Just the rough model of it but it looks great so far.”

“I can’t believe that he agreed to it.” Jimin said, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“I can’t believe you convinced me.” Namjoon added, taking a bite of rice.

“Honestly I thought you were going to be way harder to get on my side.”

“I mean as much as I hate the idea of you going out and doing vigilante shit, you’re right. This city needs all the help it can get and Nyx can’t do it alone.”

“Speaking of Nyx, who is she?”

“No one knows.”

“You’re telling me no one knows anything about her? She’s been active almost six years and no one has found out anything about her?”

“She keeps a low profile. The only thing I could tell you, which really isn’t a secret, is that she works with SCPD.”

Jimin leaned forward, interested, “Who does she work with specifically? She can’t be coordinating with the entire police force.” 

“I believe she works with Detective Jin. But I’m not 100% sure. I can do some research on it and let you know.”

“Thanks man. Another weird thing happened today, Yoongi-ssi came by my office.”

“Your mentor from that weird ninja group?” Namjoon’s voice had a tone of clear sarcasm.

Jimin corrected him, “The League of Shadows, but yes.”

“Why?”

“That’s my question too. He said some bullshit about buying property or something, but I don’t believe him. Hey, could you do me a favor and look into which properties he’s bought or is going to purchase?”

Namjoon nodded, “You think he’s up to something?”

“I’m not sure yet but something weird is definitely going on.”

“I'll look into it and the Nyx stuff. You got the computers set up in the basement, right?”

Jimin nodded, “I’ll text you the passcode but it's on B4 in Park Enterprises.”

“I don’t trust him,” Namjoon said, rubbing his chin in thought.

“Yoongi-ssi?” Jimin asked, confused. 

Namjoon nodded, “That entire League of Shadows business is just so….suspicious.”

“I mean, it is called the League of Shadows for a reason. We work in the shadows.” Jimin chuckled.

“I don’t ask you too many questions about your time away Jimin, but you’ve changed. A lot”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“I haven’t decided yet. But I just know the old Jimin wouldn’t have turned his back on his friends for six years.”

“I told you Namjoon, I couldn’t call anyone.”

“But why? You’ve never told me why. ‘Couldn’t’ implies it was out of your control. So doesn’t it make you question why you couldn’t call anyone?”

“It’s for protection.”

“Who’s? Yours? Mine? The League’s?” Namjoon said, a bit annoyed.

Jimin went silent. He hadn’t really questioned who’s protection his silence was for. Yoongi-ssi made it clear from the moment Jimin stepped into the dojo that there were two rules: obey the mantra and swear to secrecy. But why? Did the League have something to hide? Did Yoongi have something to hide?

Namjoon flipped on the news as Jimin simmered in his thoughts. The headlines blared ‘JUST IN: BANK ROBBERY AT SEOUL UNITED’. Jimin and Namjoon exchanged weary glances, worry sinking into their stomachs.

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

You pushed through the revolving doors of her parents’ building. You hated going here, you could almost taste the despair in the air. Too many memories of missing out on hangouts with friends, missing recitals and performances all because your parents were too busy to take you. Good thing you weren’t here to see them. You saw them exclusively on Sundays; you couldn’t handle anymore than that. You tried to get past the front desk but of course you heard the familiar shriek, “Ms. ______, welcome!”

You gripped your leather messenger bag tightly, trying to control your anger, “Hello”

“Are you here to see your parents? I’m afraid they are both in meetings curr-”

You cut off the secretary, “I’m not here to see them. Just here to meet a friend.”

“Oh, alright. Have a nice day then.”

“Thank you. Also, please don’t tell my parents that I was here. I wouldn’t want to bother them with this.”

The secretary nodded and you quickly walked to the elevators, hitting the down arrow a couple of times impatiently. The elevator doors opened with a ding and you hopped in, pressing the B8 button. After a few seconds and a feeling of weightlessness, the doors re-opened and you stepped out, heading down the same path you had been going down for the past six years.

You walked up to the familiar cubicle and saw a figure with unmistakable tousled black hair focused on the computer screen in front of him, his tattooed hands flying across the keyboard . When you peered a little closer to see what he was working on, it became evident he was fully immersed in a PVP video game. You sneaked up behind him, getting as close as you could without alerting him.

“Hey Jungkook,” you whispered, giving him a little push.

Jungkook immediately jolted in his seat, clutching his shirt where his heart would be. “Never do that again, you scared me!”

He swiveled around to face you, while you were silently laughing at his reaction. He clearly didn’t expect your presence.

“You’re here! I didn’t know you were coming,” Jungkook pushed up his glasses that had been knocked awry by his jump and adjusted his tie nervously. You couldn't help but smile at his shy behavior.

“What’d you expect?” you chuckled, you would be lying if you said you didn’t have a soft spot for Jungkook. “I texted you this morning that I would swing by lunch to see if the tr-”

Jungkook nodded excitedly, “Yes, yes of course. I have it ready.” He pulled open his desk drawer and handed you a handheld remote. 

He pointed to the disc, “This is the tracker. First thing,  just pick up one stack of bills, scan it using this remote and a digital marker will be recorded. Once you are trying to actually track the bills, just click the button on the remote. It will connect to the maps on your phone via bluetooth and allow you to track where the money is physically going.”

You turned over the small remote in your hand, analyzing the careful craftsmanship, “This is amazing Jungkook. You’re a genius.”

A light blush bloomed over Jungkook’s cheeks, “Oh, really it’s nothing. I just was messing around with some stuff and it ended up coming together well.”

“Thank you so much,” you smiled, ruffling his already messy hair.

Jungkook nodded, “Just be careful out there.”

You winked at him, “Nyx always is.”

With that, you raced to your car, driving to your apartment as fast as possible. You needed to get the tracker on the bills before anything else happened. After a quick change into your Nyx outfit and grabbing your motorbike, you were on your way to Seoul United.You found Detective Jin’s team surrounding the bank. After speaking with the officer in charge, you were able to get access to the vault and place the necessary tracker. You zoomed back to your apartment, trying to get out of there as quick as possible. Nyx worked in the nighttime; daytime excursions were a risk to your identity. In the evening, you tried to focus on the case files pulled up on your laptop, but an unmistakable feeling of anxiety was creeping up your neck, like something horrible was just about to happen. Then, as if right on cue, your phone pinged with a text from Detective Kim. 

DK: Seoul United has just been robbed. 

You: What? When?

DK: 5 mins ago

You: I’ll be right over

You threw on your Nyx outfit and raced on your bike over to Seoul United Bank. Already there were police cars and news vans surrounding the area. It was hard to see anything past the blue and red sirens and the constant flashes of the journalists’ cameras. You managed to make your way into the bank, finding Detective Kim standing in the entryway. He was talking with someone on his team, his hands on his hips, clearly exasperated. You cleared your throat and Detective Kim turned around.

“Nyx,” he said, seeing your arrival. You simply gave him a two-fingered salute, before following him into the empty bank vault. It was a big, metallic thing with a complicated lock pad on the front. Although the inside of the vault was void of the thousands stacks of cash, there were stray dollar bills littering the floor.

You looked up at Detective Kim, annoyed, “I thought you had your team here.”

He signed, rubbing his forehead, “I did. They were here all night.”

“Then, how did this happen?” you asked suspiciously.

“I don’t know.” He paused then spoke slowly, “I wasn’t here. It was just my team.”

You pursed your lips, thinking about the situation. You stood up, scanning the empty vault, before looking directly at Detective Kim’s eye “Whoever robbed this bank was tipped off. You have a mole in your team.”

“Excuse me?” Detective Kim’s jaw dropped.

“This wasn’t a coincidence Detective. Whoever robbed this bank knew about our plan. There is no way this should have happened if your team was actually prepared. Either your team is incompetent or there’s a mole.” 

“There has to be another explanation.”

“I suggest you thoroughly re-evaluate your team.” you looked at him levelly.

Jin hesitated for a moment, “Fine.”

“There’s only two major banks left in Seoul.” you said, walking around the vault to see if there were any clues left behind.

“Seoul Credit Union and Republic of Korea Trust Corporation.” Jin said, flipping through his notepad.

You said nothing in response, but kept walking back to the end of the vault where a glint of red caught your eye. You moved closer and found a card stuck between one of the tables and the wall. You pulled it and recognized it immediately; it was the card you found in the folder Detective Kim gave you a few nights ago. The blood-red smile stared back at you in mockery.

You turned to show Detective Kim the card, “Same card,”

Detective Kim nodded in agreement, taking the card from your gloved hand and studying it. “It appears so. I guess this means the robberies are done by the same team.”

“Any leads with the ink?” you asked, remembering the conversation you had with Detective Kim that one night regarding the ink of the smiley face on the card. 

“Nothing of interest came up,” Detective Kim said, shrugging, not exactly meeting your eye.“

What’s your plan?”

“Same thing I guess. But with a smaller team.”

You nodded, picking up one of the stray dollar bills scattered on the floor.

Jin looked at you, “What’s your plan?”

“Unlike you, I was prepared.” Pulling out the tracker Jungkook made for you out of your pocket, you scanned the dollar bill with the tracker. After a few seconds, your phone began to beep. Immediately, a maps app pulled up with the word “TRACKING” flashing. After a moment, the location popped up: 14-5, Donam 1-dong, Seongbuk-gu, Seoul.

“I put a tracker on the bills earlier today.” you showed your phone to Jin, “This is where the money is currently.”

“Nyx…”

“I’m not going to do anything. Just a reconnaissance mission. Observe and I’ll tell you what I find.”

Jin sighed a breath of relief, “I’ll keep you posted on my side as well.”

You nodded, and quickly left the bank, heading to the location on your phone. 

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

Jimin walked into the basement of Park Enterprises, his steps echoing through the concrete room. He felt a sense of nostalgia walking through these halls. Back when Namjoon, Y/N, and Jimin were younger they would run around here, playing hide-and-seek and tag, while his father would work diligently upstairs. Now, Jimin walked down these halls with a different purpose, while his father laid six feet under, never to breathe again.

Jimin slowed his pace when he came near a metallic door and entered the passcode in the keypad to the side. The door opened with a defined clang and he saw Namjoon clicking away on a keyboard in front of several computer screens. The screens were filled with an array of statistics, new articles, and property reports.

“What’s up?” Jimin asked, leaning on the headrest of Namjoon’s chair. 

“So I was doing some research into what we spoke about the other day,” Namjoon started, clicking away from an article.

“Did you find anything about Nyx?” Jimin asked excitedly.

Namjoon slowly turned his head, looking at Jimin above his shoulder, “Um, no. I was thinking the Yoongi stuff was more important.”

“Right,” Jimin said, trying to hide his disappointment.

“Anyways, I got ahold of some of the listings Yoongi is looking into, but he’s actually only bought one apartment building so far.”

“Where?”

“It’s actually not too far from here.”

“I can go check it out tonight. See if there’s anything weird about the building, or inside of it.”

“Did Taehyung finish your suit?” Jimin nodded, walking to the end of the room where a black panel lay embedded in the wall. Jimin pressed his hand against the scanner to unlock the panel. It moved to the side, revealing a sleek, black suit with red accents made of carbon fiber. Next to the suit, was a titanium black bow and arrow encased in a clear case.

Jimin stripped of his clothes and stepped into the suit. It fit seamlessly, providing him with protection as well as the ability to move around stealthily. He pushed the eye mask against his face and threw his hood over, casting a dark shadow over his face.

“Address?” Jimin called out as he put on the quiver and adjusted the strap so that it lay comfortably on his body.

“14-5, Donam 1-dong, Seongbuk-gu, Seoul,” Namjoon said reading off the computer screen.

Jimin nodded, punching the address into his phone. He bid Namjoon a goodbye before exiting the building and heading to the garage. He summoned his car to him by pressing a button on his keys. The car came to him in a flash, a sleek black car with the state-of-the-art weapons attached to it and a computer interface at his disposal. Not to mention, the seat heaters feel amazing. Jimin hopped in the car, determined to solve this mystery and figure out what Yoongi was up to.

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

After 15 minutes of driving, you finally arrived at your location. It was a tall, red brick building that was supposedly an apartment complex, according to Google. You stashed your bike a block away from the building, hiding it in an alleyway. There was a fire escape leading to the roof of the apartment building, perfect for preliminary surveillance. You made your way to the roof of the building and perched on a ledge, scanning the terrain. You could hear drunken shouts and laughter from below, but you didn’t see anyone entering or exiting the building.

On the roof itself, there were a few camp chairs with old glass bottles and plastic cups littering the floor. There was also a door which you presumed led inside of the building as well as a water tower a few feet from you. You were a bit frustrated by the lack of places to hide on the roof, but you’ve dealt with worse.

You studied the layout of the building. It would be useless to walk through each floor in hopes of accidentally stumbling upon a room full of bank vault cash. You racked your brain for a better solution before deciding you should call your team to help you locate the most probable floor that the cash could be on.

“Hey,” you said, pressing the button on your earpiece to talk.

Jungkook excitedly answered, “______! I mean, Nyx!”

“What’s up?” Sana asked, much more calmly.

“I’m at the address. Pretty sure it’s an apartment building, judging by the layout, but I have no idea where the money could be. Maybe there’s some sort of hidden room or basement where all this money could be stored. Can you guys pull up the specs of the building?”

“You got it,” Sana said, clicking away on her keyboard.

You waited patiently for a moment before you heard something, a light clank sound. You immediately ducked behind the water tower, highly alert. You could feel your heart beating very fast. Could it be the person behind the blood-red smiley face card?

“Someone’s here,” you whispered softly into your earpiece.

“Who?” Jungkook and Sana asked.

“Not sure.”

“Be careful,” Sana cautioned.

You turned off your earpiece so you could hear what the intruder was doing. You heard soft footsteps crunching on the gravel. You tried to peer around the water tower to see but it was pitch black, too difficult to make out clear movement. You saw a figure moving, you squinted trying to see better. You almost felt scared for a second. You shook yourself out of it. C'mon you’re Nyx. You’ve faced off the mob for crying out loud. Whoever it is, whatever it is, you can handle it

You gripped your pronged knife, unsheathing it, getting in battle stance. You peered once more to see any movement, trying to get the upper hand on whoever this mysterious person was. Part of you thought it might be a random civilian, just wandering off but your instincts told you otherwise. Based on the movements of this mystery person, the soft footsteps and indiscernible breathing, this was clearly someone who knew what they were doing.  You looked over, trying to see any motion in the darkness but when you squinted, you couldn't see anything. You sighed turning your head back around to find an arrow pointed right at your forehead. 

Your eyes immediately went to the beholder of the arrow. A man, you guessed, his face was covered by a large hood but you could make out that he was wearing an eye mask. Another vigilante? Another villain? Was he the one behind the bank robberies?

He was good, good enough to sneak up on you. You forced yourself to calm down, and you gripped your knives tighter trying to formulate a plan. Fighting him straight up wasn’t the smartest move, not yet. You needed some answers first. Keep him busy while he’s talking then attack. Distraction was always the best mode of offense.  

“Who are you?” you asked, not taking your eyes off of the man and the arrow pointed at you.

 “So curious,” he murmured, titling his head to the side. His grip on the bow never wavered.

If anything his answer made you more furious rather than the fact that he was holding a literal arrow to your face. Stay calm Nyx. 

“New in town?” you said, mind racing.

“Not really.” His voice was soft and melodic, almost like he was teasing you. “I’ve never seen you before.” you strengthened your stance, preparing to attack.

“Maybe you have. Maybe you’re just not observant enough.” He said with a chuckle. Then for a moment, his bow wavered. Bingo. You immediately launched a kick at his arm, momentarily surprising him, causing him to drop both his bow and arrow. You twisted his arm so that it was no longer directed towards you, switching places and forcing him against the water tower as you pushed one of your knives against his throat. The man’s adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped at the prospect of getting his throat slashed at any moment.

It was now your turn to torment him.

“Relax cupid I won’t hurt you. Yet.” Your eyes narrowed. “Now tell me, who are you?”

“Now where’s the fun in that?” He smirked. With his free hand, the man turned away your knife holding hand and swiftly kicked your feet out from under you. But you’ve had years of experience and saw this coming. At the last minute, you rolled over so that he was now trapped under you. You had your knees planted on either side of his narrow waist with one arm pinning down his hands. Your knife had clattered away during this, so you decided to press your forearm against his throat.

The man chuckled, sending shivers up your spine, “Usually the girl knows my name before she’s on top of me,”

You pressed your forearm down even harder, “You’re quite obnoxious, you know that?”

“I think you mean charming,” he choked out, struggling to breathe.

“Let me clear something up for you. I have Detective Kim Seokjin on speed dial. It would be so easy for me to simply tie you up and hand you to the Seoul City Police. But perhaps, if you cooperated and gave me some information, we could work something out.” You had no intentions of making a deal with this possible criminal but this was a tactic that always worked in the past. 

“Eros,” he gasped out. “My name’s Eros.”

Intrigued at this outburst, you lessened the pressure against his throat. Funny. A name of a greek god. Like yours. 

“Eros,” you repeated. “The Greek god of love. What an odd name for a villain.”

“Vigilante,” he corrected. You could see his eyes more clearly now, a dangerous obsidian color. 

“Vigilante, is that right?” you mused,  “Sounds like some bullshit a lowlife criminal would say.”

“I’m being serious. But of course that would mean you would have to trust me.” His voice became low and sultry. There was something familiar about him, about his voice, his mannerisms but you couldn't place it. 

“Fine. Be honest. Why are you here?” 

“I’m following a lead.”

“From who? About what?”

“C’mon darling. Do you really think I would give up all my information to someone I don’t even know?”

“I guess you’ll just have to trust me.” you said repeating his own words back to him.

“Maybe we can start by you getting off of me. Don’t get me wrong darling, I would love for this to continue, just under different circumstances maybe.” He whispered, sending shivers up your spine.

Immediately your face flushed. You quickly got up and offered a hand to Eros. He stood up and grabbed his bow and arrow that had clattered away during your fight, walking to the ledge.

“I’m here because I have suspicions about someone I don’t trust. He owns this building, recently purchased and I want to know why. But I’m guessing since you're here too, you have a lead you're following.” He turns to face you, “which makes me think , maybe we are on the same side.”

“Maybe, but I still have no idea who you are. I can’t blindly trust you.” 

“Nyx, if I wanted to take you down, I would have already. Now why don’t you tell me what you’re doing here.”

He had a point, you thought. He was strong, you had felt his rock hard abs and strong muscles when you were on top of him (you were only noting it just in case you had to take him head on, no other reason of course). Eros could definitely put up a good fight; he could possibly take you down. Right now, your instincts were to trust him, see what information he had, and possibly work together. 

You sighed, “I’m here because of a lead Detective Kim gave me.”

You saw his lips turn into a smirk, “Close with Detective Kim?” 

You continued on, rolling your eyes at his unprofessional banter,“Anyways, I’m following a lead from the robberies.”

“The bank robberies?”

You nodded, “There was a connection between all of the recent bank robberies. I found this card at two of the robberies” 

You handed him the card that had the smiley face drawn on it with the blood-like ink. The very one that had plagued your dreams and brought upon many sleepless nights. Whoever was behind the bank robberies were obviously very confident that they would get away with it, especially since they left behind a mark of theirs. Now you just had to find out who.

You studied Eros’s expression carefully when you handed him the card and you saw his eyes widen at the sight of the card, a flash of recognition. “I’ve seen this symbol before, I just can’t remember where,”

You eyed him uneasily. Was he just lying to you or was he being serious? Regardless, Eros knew something about the bank robberies, which was suspicious on some level. 

Eros caught your gaze and spoke in an easy tone, “I promise I’ll look into this and remember where I saw this.”You nodded, feeling a wave of security and gratefulness rush over you. The nagging voice in the back of your head was getting harder to ignore though: Why were you already so trusting of this man you have never met before? 

Eros chuckled softly, “Guess I’m gonna need your phone number.”

You paused for a moment, once again ignoring his overly flirty comments before remembering. You pulled out a burner phone lodged in one of your pant pockets. You had used it in a prior mission and forgot to give it back to Jungkook. You tossed the phone to Eros who caught it with ease. 

“You call me. No need to exchange numbers.”

“You’re killing me, darling.” Eros said, safely storing the phone away. 

You ignored him and continued with what you knew about the bank robberies, “I placed a tracker on the bills and I tracked it to this apartment.”

 “The money is here?”

“Who owns this building?”

“My mentor...” Eros said hesitantly.

“Your mentor?” 

“Yeah. But why would the money come here? Unless he knows about it?”

“Do you think he could be behind the robberies?”

Eros shook his head, “I highly doubt it. He was always preaching about not getting attached to the material world.”

“Here’s the plan, granted you don’t try to surprise attack me in the middle of it. I’ll pull up the specs of the building and we can see what’s here and what’s not.”

Eros nodded, “We should split up, cover more ground.”

“No way. I don’t trust you. What if you find the money and take it all?”

“I mean I wouldn’t, but if you really just wanted to spend some more time with me, then all you had to do was ask, darling.” Eros said, smirking at you. 

“Just keep your eyes peeled,” You said, shaking your head and scoffing. 

You pulled up your phone and found a message from Jungkook, an attachment for the blueprints of the building. You clicked on the attachment and glanced through the drawings. 

“Okay, so it looks like there are apartments on every floor except the basement and the 8th floor.” You announced. “Although I’m not sure why the 8th floor doesn’t have any apartments.”

“Let’s head there first then.” Eros said hurriedly. 

You swiftly picked the lock on the door on the roof and headed down the dimly lit metal staircase. The chipping paint on the wall stated “18th Floor.” It was going to be a bit of a walk; the elevators were too much of a risk for civilians to encounter you. Eros tried to make conversation asking about your past endeavors but you were in no mood to be friendly with someone you didn’t know. Once you reached the 8th floor and opened the door, you found yourself in a completely empty room. You unsheathed your knife while Eros steadied his bow as you both scanned the room, looking for potential threats. 

“Nothing,” Eros said with a tone of disappointment. 

“Why would this room be empty?” you said, utterly confused. 

“Well, my mentor just bought this building so maybe he has plans for this room. I dunno, this is all very weird. We should hurry up to the basement though. We don’t wanna get caught.”

You nodded in agreement and went back into the stairwell with Eros following behind. It didn’t take long to reach the basement but once you both were battle ready, you slowly opened the door to the basement. Your eyes widened in shock. The basement had been transformed into some underground factory, machinery everywhere, metal tables, and boxes piled high. 

“What the fuck?” Eros muttered under his breath as he gripped his bow tighter. 

You walked around analyzing what was laid out in front of you. You headed to the pile of boxes stacked on the furthest wall. You sliced open the box that was about your eye level using your pronged knife. Purple powder started to spill out of the box and you could see some clear plastic peeking through. Confused and curious, you cut through the tape of the box to properly examine its contents.

“Holy shit.” you whispered, your voice echoing through the room. 

Eros jogged over to where you were, “What? What happened?”

He peered over your shoulder and inhaled sharply. Laid right in front of you was a box with packets of packaged purple powder. You looked around the room again, seeing the machinery and tools in a new light. This building was holding an illegal drug factory. 

author’s note: the long awaited ch 2!! it took awhile bc of school, exams, and also thinking through the plot. anyways hope you all enjoy and lmk if u would like to be added to the tag list :)

[writerinruins]

Автобиографическая история о службе в беспредельной части с кавказцами, азиатами. (An autobiographical story about violence in the russian army)

"Я оказался в части, где почти половина роты - выходцы из "дружеских" республик. Даги, азеры, башкиры, тувинцы. Русских - примерно половина, притом все как черти - каждый сам за себя, еще умудряются друг друга гасить по сроку службы. Там процветал рэкет, избиения, унижения. Русскому парню младшего призыва там было хуже всего - его пиздили и им владели все. И не важно - боксер ты, борец или балерина. Ты один и едва даешь отпор - тебя начинают ебашить буквально все. Если тренированный - то ляжешь секунд на пять - семь позже, но однохуйственно против толпы бесов - не выстоять. А офицерам насрать - половина из них алкоголики. Контрабасы - тоже самое, кто - то контуженный после чеченских войн, еще сам любил гасить срочников. Я знатно погрустнел, когда приехал в эту часть, стоящую в глуши, и увидел всю обстановку: пропитые ебала офицеров и срочников старшего призыва, ходящих с хроническим выражением лица "удивленный олигофрен", куча черных - ходят целыми квартетами лают на своих языках, тувинцы - вообще производящие впечатление озлобленных пришельцев. В общем пиздец. Помню, первый раз зарубился там через пару недель терпения этого беспредела. К слову за это время меня знатно и нещадно пиздили и я уже был "как все". Но в тогда я сорвался. Ночью я пошел в гальюн, все спали, что для кубаря было странно - обычно ночью там больше жизни, чем днем. Захожу в толкан и вижу, как даг Джамбеков и жирный стос из старшего призыва, соответствующий внешним своим видом фамилии, - Кабанов, стоят над ревущим как раненое животное, Котловановым. Он стоял на карачках и ревел. - Языком, я сказаль, берцы мне почисти. - орал Джамбеков. - А потом и остальное нам им отпалируй. - гоготал Кабанов. Я на секунду застыл, поражаясь такой необъяснимой злобе. - Да вы тут совсем ебнулись. - сказал я и они только сейчас меня заметили. - Чо сказаль. - даг был вне себя от ярости. - Ну - ка давай сюда к нему спускайся! Они двинулись на меня. Я попятился назад и тут что-то во мне щелкнуло. В момент сближения я резко бросил удар в еблет Кабанову. Тот был кило на двадцать меня тяжелее, но настолько не ждал от меня отпора (к слову до этого меня безнаказанно пиздили все подряд), что от моей плюхи он моментально сел на жопу в нокдауне. Сбоку на меня налетел Джабеков с градом ударов. Он так же был крупнее, выше меня, к тому же кандидатом в мастера спорта по рукопашному бою. Я бил в ответ, но никак не мог достать его, разве что пару раз смазано зацепил ему харю, в ответ получая в разы больше. В какой - то момент я начал плыть от пропущенных и получил прямой удар ногой в грудь. Полетев назад, спотыкаюсь о Кабанова (или он подставил мне подножку) и начал падать. Понимая, что если упаду - встать мне не дадут, на свою беду пытаюсь перебирать ногами, но в итоге неправильно поставил правую ногу и подвернул ее. Несмотря на боевой залп, я почувствовал сильную боль в ноге, упал. Джамбеков принялся окунать в меня берцы и к нему присоединился Кабанов. В какой - то момент я перестал понимать реальность, все поплыло и очнулся на полу туалета совсем один в луже крови. Попытался встать, забыл про ногу и тут же заорал и снова упал. Правая стопа была как каменная, честно говоря, я был уверен, что это перелом. С трудом,облокачиваясь на стену пополз к выходу из туалета. Дневальный, стоящий с такими же подбитыми щщами открыв рот в ахуе смотрел, как мимо него, капая кровью, проползал я. За час дополз до шконки, влез на кровать и уснул ( или потерял сознание). На следующее утро меня нехотя увезли в военный госпиталь в травмотологию, где поставили диагноз "вывих", чему я был несказанно рад - несколько недель провести вне этого ада. Т.к. я знал: информация о борзом русском срочнике младшего призыва уже разошлась по роте и меня ждут, чтобы сломать.” Продолжение, если пожелаете, выпущу позже.   Поддержите лайками и распространением, общество должно знать о том, о чем принято умалчивать. Спасибо. __________________________________________  (ENG) "I ended up in a unit where almost half of the company came from "friendly" republics. Dagi, Azeris, Bashkirs, Tuvinians. Russians - about half, moreover, all like devils - each for himself, still manage to extinguish each other in terms of service life. Racketeering, beatings, and humiliation flourished there. The Russian guy of the junior draft was the worst there - he was fucked up and everyone owned him. And it doesn't matter if you are a boxer, a wrestler or a ballerina. You're alone and you barely fight back - literally everyone starts fucking you. If you are trained, then you will go to bed five or seven seconds later, but you can't stand against a crowd of demons. And the officers don't give a shit - half of them are alcoholics. Double basses are the same thing, someone shell-shocked after the Chechen wars, he also liked to extinguish conscripts. I was noticeably sad when I arrived at this part, standing in the wilderness, and saw the whole situation: drunk fuckers of officers and conscripts of the senior draft, walking with a chronic expression of "surprised oligophrenic", a bunch of blacks - walking in whole quartets barking in their languages, Tuvinians - generally giving the impression of embittered aliens. In general, fucked up. I remember the first time I hacked myself there after a couple of weeks of patience with this lawlessness. By the way, during this time I was nobly and mercilessly fucked and I was already "like everyone else". But then I snapped. At night I went to the latrine, everyone was asleep, which was strange for kubar - usually there is more life there at night than during the day. I go into the tolkan and see how dag Dzhambekov and a fat stos from the senior draft, corresponding in appearance to the surname, Kabanov, are standing over Kotlovanov, roaring like a wounded animal. He stood on all fours and roared. - With your tongue, I said, clean my berets. - yelled Dzhambekov. - And then give them the rest to us. Kabanov guffawed. I froze for a second, amazed at such inexplicable anger. - Yes, you are completely fucked up here. I said, and they only noticed me now. - Cho skazal. Doug was furious. - Well, come down here to him! They moved towards me. I backed away and then something clicked in me. At the moment of rapprochement, I abruptly threw a blow at Kabanov's fuck. He was twenty kilos heavier than me, but he didn't expect a rebuff from me so much (by the way, before that I was fucked up with impunity by everyone in a row) that he immediately sat on his ass in a knockdown from my flop. Jabekov came at me from the side with a hail of blows. He was also bigger, taller than me, besides, a candidate for the master of sports in hand-to-hand combat. I hit back, but I couldn't get him in any way, except that I smeared him a couple of times, getting many times more in response. At some point I started swimming away from the missed ones and got a direct kick in the chest. Flying back, I stumble over Kabanov (or he tripped me up) and began to fall. Realizing that if I fall, they won't let me get up, to my misfortune I try to move my legs, but in the end I put my right leg wrong and twisted it. Despite the combat volley, I felt a strong pain in my leg and fell. Jambekov began to dip his boots into me and Kabanov joined him. At some point, I stopped understanding reality, everything swam and woke up on the toilet floor all alone in a pool of blood. He tried to get up, forgot about his leg and immediately screamed and fell down again. My right foot was like stone, to be honest, I was sure it was a fracture. With difficulty, leaning on the wall, he crawled to the exit from the toilet. The day-care worker, standing with the same padded cheeks, opened his mouth in a gasp, watched as I crawled past him, dripping with blood. In an hour I crawled to the shkonka, climbed onto the bed and fell asleep (or lost consciousness).The next morning, I was reluctantly taken to a military hospital in traumatology, where I was diagnosed with a dislocation, which I was incredibly glad to spend a few weeks out of this hell.Because I knew: information about the greyhound Russian conscript of the junior draft has already spread through the company and they are waiting for me to break.”Continuation, if you wish, I will release later.Support with likes and distribution, society should be aware of what it is customary to keep silent about.Thanks. #russianarmy #pain #wearability #migrants #fear #насилие #страх #армия #служба #мигранты #кавказ #система #драка #боль #беспредел