#This is just me getting the thoughts out on (cyber) paper

[yoonmetogether]

Not In the Cards Prologue

pairing: dirty cop!hoseok x mob boss!seokjin (rest of the story will feature bodyguard!yoongi x CEO!fem reader) genre: mafia summary: a tragic love affair sets the stage and unfolds the story yet to come. warnings: angst!!!!!, hurt/comfort, smut (not explicit), family drama, troubled childhoods, parental loss, trauma, su!c!dal thoughts, mentions of violence and murder (blood/guns), panic attacks, drug addiction/rehab, everyone is going through it, alcohol, weed smoking, age gap, borderline stockholm syndrome (whoops!) wc: 6.7k 😀 this is a loaded chapter, so i apologize ahead of time if it comes out like an info dump lol also reminder, Angel is reader's pseudonym minors pls dni, nsfw

teaser l prologue l ch.1 play nice I prelude. strangers 1/2 l ch. ii I

“Hey, agent Jung, are you busy?”

Hoseok peers up from his laptop to the rookie poking his head into his office.

“What’s up?” Taking it as permission to enter, the rookie looks behind him at the hallway before stepping in and shutting the door, fidgeting nervously with a manila folder in his hand.

“Um, I have something,” he murmurs quietly, and Hoseok’s fingers freeze above the keyboard. Glancing back up, the rookie stares at the ground as he stays in place in front of the door. Hoseok sighs and sits back in his chair, stretching his hands cramped from hours of typing up reports. This can’t be good.

"Don’t just stand there, bring it over."

“Right,” the rookie squeaks, rapidly shuffling forward and holding out the folder with a slight bow. Hoseok winces at the intimidation the rookie clearly feels from him and he lowkey hates how he’s grown a reputation of being a hard ass.

Nevertheless, he accepts the folder and silently prays it isn’t what he thinks it is but once he opens it and sees the face of the man already tattooed in his mind, he has to hold back a series of curses. His jaw ticks as he leans forward to flip over the many sheets of paper holding information to the case of the alleged son of the Crow don, filled with leads and scrappy evidence gathered over years of investigations that he once was a part of as a rookie himself.

“What are you showing me?” He grumbles, thinking he would be looking at some new report of a half-assed lead but there's nothing in here that he hasn't already seen and spent sleepless nights practically memorizing.

The rookie clears his throat and points to the second half of the folder, quickly glancing over his shoulder as if someone had suddenly appeared behind him.

“I found a copy of the warrant the CID is drafting up.”

Hoseok is glad for the countless hours he's spent training himself to pass polygraph tests, otherwise his heart would be racing out of his chest and there would be nothing but panic written all over his face. Criminal Investigative Division, the office he climbed himself out of to serve in the CIA instead, getting away from domestic law enforcement to try and keep a low profile.

The rookie, a seriously intelligent and experienced cyber tech, uses his employment to hack into the intelligence agency databases in order to keep Hoseok informed about the CID's investigation into the Crown organization that holds the northern cities by the throats, poisoning the streets with internationally traded drugs, military-grade weapons, and counterfeit goods, all for lower-hierarchy syndicates to play with in the black market and make a buck for themselves. The CID has been going after the don, Kim Dongsoo, for years, trying to take him down for hundreds of pages of blue and white-collar crimes, but thanks to generational power and sickeningly innumerous wealth, the pockets of politicians, cops, judges, and lawmakers have been lined by the don and it's hard to pin him down with any kind of conviction, since most of the evidence would have to be illegally obtained and therefore inadmissible in court. And now that the mob boss suddenly passed away, the CID turned their attention to his successor, Kim Seokjin, the face staring up at him from the manila. Or Atlas, as he’s known on the streets.

Hoseok suddenly stands up, gripping the folder in a way that crinkles the papers. He leans forward and doesn't miss the way the rookie gulps.

"Are you stupid? Bringing this here to my office when anyone could snatch this right out of your hand to have a look? Do you want to screw me over?" The rookie looks like he's shaking in his boots in response to Hoseok's menacing tone and piercing glare. Hoseok misses the time when he used to be the fun, goofy agent around the office.

(He blames it on the man who trained the sunny disposition out of him ever since he'd been forced to go down this dirty rotten path. D, the one who has a scar over his eye and shoots looks that could kill, who Hoseok had to learn to not be scared of. Now, they’re practically best buds; if there can even be such a friendship in this line of work. Sometimes the only fun Hoseok has is holding over D’s head the fact that he could arrest him at any point and lock him up for life. In return, D reminds him how he could snipe him between the eyes and in the balls from two skyscrapers away. But Hoseok knows the man is capable of far worse things - like round-housing him until he folds up like a pretzel, neatly slitting his throat to bury him in scattered locations without a trace of DNA, and even running him off the road going 200 kph, leaving without a scratch on his car or a burn on his tires. Not that he could actually do anything since Hoseok has been fucking the man they both call boss who fills their bank accounts. But he'll never find out that Hoseok gets a few more zeroes tacked on every month thanks to that same man. Well, play one game of poker and D could drain him of every last penny in the blink of an eye. Hoseok is shit at poker.)

"Sir, everyone's gone for the day," the rookie stutters and Hoseok whips his attention out of his daze to the window, finding it is indeed very dark outside, and then takes notice of the time on his laptop, indicating how fast the day had gotten away from him. He sharply exhales and drops the folder on the desk, sitting down with a plop to rub his hands over his face as exhaustion settles heavily in his bones.

"Next time, find me outside the building, or I'll have your job. Understand?"

The rookie rapidly nods, significantly paler, and Hoseok dismisses him with a wave of his hand and not a single word. Not even bothering to tell him that his offshore bank account will receive an exuberant reimbursement for his work because the rookie already knows that, and it's the only reason that he comes back to deal with Hoseok’s moody ass. He waits until his mole shuffles out and the door clicks shut to collapse in his chair, mind starting to race as he thinks of his next move.

One thing is for certain. This is his excuse to see Kim Seokjin.

Shutting off his laptop and gathering all his files into his briefcase because he's not one to stop working when the day is done, he quickly mulls over the contents of the warrant, looking for any reason the judge would have not to sign it, and drops it in the shredder with a vengeance when he finds none. He shreds the rest of the file and carries out the scraps to burn in the fireplace back home.

Once he pulls into his garage, he routinely checks his surroundings as he presses the button to lower the door, and when he's safely locked alone inside, he finds the panel he installed under the steering wheel to fish around for the early-2010s android burner that has only one contact, listed under 'astronaut.'

cabin this weekend? sent 21:22

Hours later when he's in bed, in his failed attempt to sleep before 4am, he puts the battery back in the phone and checks that he received a message just thirty minutes ago. For the first time all day, maybe even all week, all month, he feels lighter.

see u <3 received 3:36

He takes out the battery once more and puts the phone under his pillow. He lays his head down and tries to sleep but his anxious, racing mind has him slipping out of bed and packing for the overnight road trip, suitcase full of cozy sweaters and joggers. He won't be leaving until well into the evening, but he wants to be ready. He's looking forward to the 2-hour drive, but not the earful he'll be getting from his mother for canceling family plans at the last minute with vague lies about working overtime on a case. That's something he's had to get used to doing, lying to his family and friends. But he's worked through that, knowing there's no way they'll ever be able to understand all the risks he's been taking all these years. Back then, when he was a different, more honest person, he wouldn't have understood either. Now, with the access he has to multiple bank accounts which hold numbers that could support him and his family for at least nine generations to come, he tells himself it's not all for nothing. Even though he's not doing it entirely for the money. No, that's just a bonus. It's for the man he's going to drive up a mountain to see. A man who appears in the forefront of his mind any time he gets a second to close his eyes. A man he'd die for, who he hopes would do the same for him.

That's what this is all for.

Around eight that night, at a stoplight, Hoseok whips out his burner and types up a quick message to 'astronaut' that he's almost there. He smiles when he receives a grainy, irrelevant cat meme in response and drops the phone in the console as soon as the light turns green.

Driving up the steep hills, he soaks in the sight of blankets of snow that line the sides of the road and the trees. He knows this could be the last time he'll take this route that makes him look forward to the cozy fireplace waiting for him at the cabin, started by the man who makes his heart just as warm. A string tightens there when he worries it won't be long until he'll be forced to douse it.

The road is long and dark so his mind starts to wander, thinking back to how he ended up here.

He had just turned 25 when he was assigned to infiltrate the mob, acting as a hijacker of trucks and ships coming in and out of the harbor. He was sure it was a hazing thing, getting the ambitious rookie into a semi-dangerous situation to see if he had what it takes. He found out a bit too late that he should've been smarter. He slipped up and his one mistake landed him in a windowless van with zip ties around his wrists and a sack over his head that only came off once he was thrown onto a cold, concrete floor. After he adjusted his vision to the harsh bright lights, his breath was completely stolen from him when he realized he was kneeling before a man whose face belonged in a museum. He barely registered he was in a dungeon of sorts, or the suited guards packed with illegal weapons surrounding him, too busy taking in the sight of the glory that was Atlas. Behind him was a younger, doe-eyed boy who was practically the spitting image of the taller, more muscular man, and Hoseok assumed this to be his brother, what with the way he stared at him as if learning every move he made so he could one day be like him. And that was confirmed when Atlas let him throw the first few punishing punches and kicks to let Hoseok know just what he'd gotten himself into.

He held it together when he was interrogated and forced to beg for his life, seeing as he'd been made as the pig cop he was, and just as he thought he'd never see the light of day again, he and everyone around him were surprised that the mob boss did not decide to spill his blood right there on the stained floor, but gave him the option to die or become an informant, a mole, a dirty cop for his benefit instead. And of course he chose the option to live, even if it meant he would spend the rest of his breathing days in paranoia, anxiety, and fear. At least he'd be making more money than he could ever imagine.

Since he had been found out, he came up with a different story to tell his boss that didn't include being caught by the mob's successor, which ended with him being taken off of the case and sent into witness protection until further notice. And that landed him on another continent in a secluded location, where no one, not even his mother, knew he was there. So imagine his surprise when three authoritative knocks pounded on his door one day and there stood none other than Kim Seokjin. But he shouldn't have been surprised. Not when he knew that the don's son had the resources to find him. Hell, Hoseok probably had colleagues who were puppeteered by him and Jin was there to add him to more lines of strings.

And to do this, Jin set him up with Namjoon, an esteemed lawyer who doubled as a computer science engineer, producing the Crow’s digital landscape to increase their market using cryptocurrencies. Namjoon trained and tutored Jungkook, Jin's younger brother who once broke Hoseok's nose, since Jin complained he was too old for all that technology, but really it was a reason to get Jungkook off the streets for the time being. He worked with Namjoon to keep out traces of evidence in the CIA system that could lead back to Jin and the don, using his police access to wipe cameras, intimidate witnesses, and bribe judges and criminal lawyers. After a year, Jin introduced him to the man who called himself D, and they worked together to scope out other moles in the syndicate, the ones who worked against them, whether they were soldiers or associates, allies or rivals, and paid close attention to the guards employed to Jin's security team, and eventually his little brother's. He became the bad guy and even though the guilt and regret has taken years off his life, he doesn't care. Because he's doing all of this to protect Jin.

Hoseok learned that Jin was eight years his senior, but that didn't stop him from pining after him. He likes to think that it wasn’t some kind of Stockholm syndrome because Jin technically gave him an option to work for him or not (fucked up as it was) and employed him with a salary he'd never be able to spend in one lifetime. He could've killed him, but didn't. Instead, he arranged private, secret meetings that not even his personal guard knew about, under the guise for Hoseok to provide updates but more often than not, they would end up drinking and smoking and sharing stories and parts of themselves with each other. Jin does have a charm and a sense of humor, to the point that sometimes Hoseok forgets the man is who he is, responsible for the majority of the crime and corruption in the city and surrounding districts. Maybe it was all an act, a ploy, to get Hoseok trapped. And if it was, it fucking worked. Overtime, he fell. And fell hard.

Hoseok knew how dangerous Jin was but it didn't stop him from kissing him one night when it was late and they were silly and delirious from being high and sleep-deprived, because the spark had been there all along. Hoseok believes that's what had saved him in the first place. Jin took him to bed and fucked him until he saw stars.

Afterwards Jin dragged him onto the balcony where they smoked a joint together and for hours Jin pointed out constellations and planets littering the sky that they could see clearly from the cabin he's driving to now. Hoseok remembers every star Jin named, every fact about every planet and galaxy Jin gushed about, every dream Jin had of being an astronaut ever since he was a kid. He thought that because of how good he was at being lonely, he would do so well up in space. Hoseok wondered if Jin felt lonely when they were together, because he certainly didn't. Hoseok kissed him anytime he felt Jin needed a reminder - that he was there and wouldn't go anywhere unless Jin wanted him to. Down the road, Jin would tell him how his smile reminded him of the sun and make Hoseok's heart burst, because maybe there was still some good left in him after all, if someone like Jin could see it. And that was the beginning of the end.

He pulls into the snowy driveway of the cabin almost at the top of the mountain, edges of the roof lined in soft-yellow lights, smoke billowing out of the two chimneys, all signs of life hidden by thick forests of tall evergreen trees, and notices a silhouette in the window holding a steaming mug of hot chocolate, soon disappearing with a flutter of the sheer curtain once he puts the car in park. The door swings open and he chuckles when he hears his nickname "Sunny!" shouted through the windshield as he collects his things and a bag of takeout before stepping out of the car.

Strong, warm arms wait for him on the porch stairs and he wraps his free arm around the waist of the man who in another universe could be the love of his life. The embrace lasts for a little more than thirty seconds before he's tugged inside of the gloriously toasty cabin and isn't given the chance to release his lungs of cold air as his breath is stolen by a heated kiss. Jin shoves him against the door and his scarf is hastily tugged off, coat unzipped, and takeout carelessly dropped on the floor.

"Happy holidays, Sunny," Jin whispers in a warm breath of chocolate.

"You too, Jinnie," Hoseok whispers back, shrugging off his coat and tearing off his hat just as plush lips press again on his mouth.

He lets himself be manhandled towards creaky wooden stairs, mouths and hands never detaching from their touch-starved bodies. They pass the kitchen and Hoseok breathes in the festive smells wafting from the oven.

"You've been baking?"

"You know it," Jin mumbles, working the shirt out of Hoseok's jeans. "You don't mind waiting until later to eat, right?" Hoseok shakes his head and kisses him with a hum before Jin takes his hand and leads him upstairs, laughing when Jin clumsily trips over the steps and accidentally slams Hoseok into the railing.

It's snowing outside the floor-to-ceiling glass windows but neither of them pay attention as Hoseok, again, lets himself be tossed back onto the ridiculously soft bed and mounted by the most beautiful man he's ever seen. He lets Jin fuck him into submission, to the point that it hurts, giving him full control of his body like he belongs to him. Because he does. As the mattress rocks, headboard thumping against the wall, he stares up at Jin through his swinging bangs, noticing the background shadow of falling snow cast on the ceiling above his head, but he can only focus on the fire and fury that blacken Jin's eyes when they're together like this and Hoseok understands why he gets this way sometimes, especially when it's been so long.

But he quickly takes the reins before Jin can get carried away, flipping him onto his stomach to take him from behind, forcing Jin to let go of his resolve, of his need to be in control because Hoseok knows how exhausting it is to be in charge all of the time. Especially of a bunch of goddamn criminals. His hand that presses on the back of Jin's neck doesn't just do the job of keeping his face planted in the bedding, but covers the flying crow carrying a skull branded just below his hairline (with four rings circled around its neck, marking Jin as the fourth blood successor) because sometimes it makes him nauseous to see it, to be reminded of who they really are, outside of this safe haven. As soon as they step foot back home, they'll have to pretend like they don't even know each other, where Hoseok will go back to being a national security agent and Jin to the most powerful criminal in the city, maybe even the country. A criminal from the very empire Hoseok was tasked as a rookie to infiltrate and build a case against, but eventually turned out to become a dirty cop, working to keep the prettiest and darkest eyes he's ever looked into out of prison because he's stupid and fell in love.

Even though both of them have never admitted it to each other, after all this time, it's there.

It's there in the way that neither of them have touched anyone else ever since they first started this, despite the months that have passed between times spent in secret. In the way they think about each other every day, when Jin sends him corny dad jokes and outdated memes that brighten Hoseok's week whenever he gets the chance to check his second phone. And in the way Hoseok drives all the way up a fucking mountain on a weekend he should be with his family, hours away from home, where Jin bakes and has hot chocolate waiting for him on the counter that has since turned cold and forgotten. And they’ll be in bed for hours, so the cookies and takeout will have gone to waste too. Oh, well. Hoseok would take Jin being under him, on him, inside him over baked goods and Jin's favorite noodles any day.

After the room has become blissfully hot and steamy with passion, the two men slip into a deep sleep that they both desperately need, arms wrapped tightly around each other as if neither of them have any plans to let go. However many hours later, Hoseok stirs to his favorite pair of biceps pulling him into his favorite broad chest, lips pressing against his temple. And as they lay there in silence, Hoseok begins to feel the air change with something that settles anxiety in his gut and even somehow lowers the temperature in the room. He pushes himself further against Jin in hopes to preserve that warmth that only exists between the two of them.

Jin turns on his back and pulls Hoseok onto his chest, turning his head to stare out of the window at the cascading snow blinding the horizon and Hoseok listens to the heartbeat thundering beneath his head.

"Y'know," Jin's gentle voice disturbs the solitude and Hoseok tries to blink himself awake. "It’s just a theory, but in the right kind of spacecraft, an astronaut could get almost as close as four million miles to the sun." "Really?" Hoseok asks, eyes drooping with a brain too tired to wonder why Jin chose now to bring up one of his space-obsessed facts. They haven't looked at the sky yet, not that there would be anything to see except the snow falling. And the sun set hours ago.

"Mm. Any closer and the astronaut would get burned." His eye peeks open at that simplistic conclusion and he huffs a worn out laugh, nuzzling into Jin's chest.

"I think they'd get a little more than burned, hyung." It's quiet for a moment. "Exactly." And Jin sits up suddenly, making Hoseok realize that wasn't just a theory. It was one disguised as a metaphor.

He panics and sits up as the elder whisks himself out of bed and heads to the bathroom, dragging a hand down his face when the shower turns on not seconds after the door shuts with a bit more force than necessary. Usually Hoseok would be traipsing off to follow him, but when he hears a heavy thud reverberate through the walls, an echo of Jin's rugged fist slamming into the tile, Hoseok swallows down the anxiety-ridden nausea in his gut and goes downstairs to shower in the second bathroom instead.

Upon returning to the bedroom to change, duffle bag in hand, he finds Jin switching out the soiled sheets and comforter. He goes to help, but he's waved off, and with an ache growing under his ribs, he quietly dresses and does his best not to become overwhelmed from this ominous tension forming between them. When the bed is made, Jin disappears downstairs and a small hill of hope arises when the cabin is suddenly blasted with holiday tunes and the smells of a new savory recipe. This time, Jin does let him help, passes behind him with hands on his waist while Hoseok chops and seasons, hips bumping occasionally as Jin maneuvers around the kitchen to cook up the best meal Hoseok will have had in months. Hoseok knows he's turned up the music extra loud so neither of them will talk. And he pretends he's fine with that.

After dinner, when they clear the table and wash the dishes in quiet tandem, and Jin turns down the music so Hoseok can hear his thoughts again, the older man heads to the window seat across from the kitchen, just under the stairs. He cracks open the window and Hoseok starts to scold him for letting in the cold air from the fucking snow storm outside, but then Jin pulls out a familiar roll of paper and a lighter and Hoseok shuts his mouth. He finishes drying up a dish, puts it away, and goes over to him, mid-step when Jin finally speaks.

"Say what you came here to tell me, Seok," Jin says flatly and Hoseok sighs as he plants himself behind him, hand sitting on Jin's lap while he tries to ignore the frigid air. He presses his frown to Jin's shoulder covered in the softest cashmere.

"You say that like it's the only reason I came here."

"But it's the main reason, right?" Hoseok leans away, frown deepening, and crosses his arms as his back settles against the oak wood wall. He stares at the snow softly falling over the hills, making the night grey instead of pitch black, wishing they could just be enjoying the view and not having this dreaded conversation.

"We only ever meet here when you have news about my case." Hoseok shoots a glare to the back of Jin's head and nudges his foot into his hip. "That's not true." He waits impatiently as the older man finishes up his joint with shoulders that grow more tense as the seconds pass by in silence.

"It's cold, can you hurry up?" Hoseok urges in a terse voice, watching as Jin nods once before taking a final drag and dropping the unfinished joint out of the window, letting the snow put it out. He stopped offering Hoseok weed ever since the office started doing random drug tests. Jin pulls in the frame, sealing out the cold, and settles back against Hoseok's chest, saying nothing when the younger man hesitates to uncross his arms and wrap them around his shoulders.

"They're getting ready to ask a judge to sign the warrant," he inevitably admits, eyes shutting as a tight feeling squeezes his chest when he feels Jin's entire body tense up.

"They're really gonna arrest somebody around the holidays? Who does that?"

Hoseok lets out a small snort, heart rate relaxing as he's reminded that one of the reasons he loves Jin so much is because of his ability to make light of a situation, no matter how serious.

"Tell me I'll at least get until after New Years."

"Maybe towards the end of January."

Jin huffs dramatically, enticing Hoseok to kiss the side of his head.

"I guess that means I won't have to get you a gift for your birthday." Hoseok tries to smile, but it’s tugged down with sadness.

“You know you never have to get me anything." Jin places a hand on his knee, a kiss on his elbow.

“Yeah, I do, Sunny. It gives me an excuse to see you." Hoseok's heart sinks and he tangles their legs together.

"And after tonight, who knows if we'll..." Jin's voice tapers off and Hoseok fights the urge to give into tears. He can't be weak. Not for something he's known he can't have.

“What are my charges? Since apparently they’re sticking this time.”

“Drug and weapons trafficking. They can’t get you for racketeering yet because the evidence is mostly linked to your father. But when you’re locked up, they’ll work on it.”

Jin stares at his cuticles for a few moments again, nothing but the sound of firewood crackling and snapping on the other side of the room, before he sits up abruptly again, knocking his head into Hoseok's chin.

"Fuck, what am I gonna do?!" Jin blurts, raking hands through his hair and tugging at the roots. Hoseok stays silent because he doesn't know what to tell him.

"Jungkook, he- he's not ready. He just got out of rehab for fucks' sake!"

A frown wrinkles Hoseok's chin.

"And Angel-" Jin continues, gulping down a breath. "She's barely spoken to me since she got engaged to that prick and I know that's the worst thing I've made her do but it wasn't my idea! It was his!"

Hoseok leans forward as he can sense the panic entering Jin's voice, paired with the shaking of his broad shoulders as he loses control of his breathing.

"This was his plan, he was never going to let them get away from all this. He knew the law was gonna come after him, he got too fucking loaded and it made him sloppy and now-" Jin sniffs and wipes his mouth with his sleeve. Hoseok hangs his head like he's not supposed to know Jin is crying.

"Now I'm taking the fucking fall. And I could give a shit about what happens to me, but Jungkook and Angel?!" Jin twists around and Hoseok is taken aback by the wild, frantic look on his face, eyes tinged pink with raw tears.

"They can't do this, they're not supposed to do this! I was never supposed to let Jungkook take my place, much less get my sister involved!" Tears are streaming down Jin's face as he reaches for Hoseok's sweater, curls his fists in the fabric to pull him forward like he's the only thing he can hang onto.

"And now they both are and it's-" Jin sobs. "It's all my fucking fault!"

There's a pain in Hoseok's chest as Jin collapses and smothers his face against it. And Hoseok lets him cry for however long he needs to, because here, in this space, is the only place safe for Jin to release the hardness that has been driven into his soul by his father since he was a little boy. In his tears, he grieves the childhood he lost when his mother died and left him with a father who forced the youth out of him, forbade him from being anything but stoic, taught him that showing emotions meant he was weak and lacked control.

Yet somehow, Jin had been able to keep a part of himself, however small, that lets him enjoy and appreciate the little things in life, to crack stupid jokes, to have a smile on his face in the right company even if it's a mask.

And Hoseok knows it's because of Jin's siblings. He thinks that without them, Jin wouldn't allow himself to be charming, or silly, or make stupid jokes. He thinks that despite how he was raised, he taught himself to be for his siblings the man he wanted in his father. Especially since he ended up raising them himself from ages four and two when their mother left and he vowed to never let their father do to them what he endured all the way up to a few months ago, to the day he buried an empty casket beneath a headstone engraved with his last name. He was glad that his siblings were made to take on their mother's family name, even though his brother had been born as a fallback plan to carry on the Kim legacy if something ever happened, and his sister never existed to their father, both kept in hiding only until they were needed for the family business.

Despite what he was taught, Jin loved them. From the moment he found out about them, he made sure to raise them as if their existence wasn't surrounded by death and greed and crime and sometimes pure evil. Even though all of them grew up without a mother, he wasn't going to let either of them feel abandoned or like no one loved them. Because he was determined to maintain their childhood that had been stolen from him. He was the one who took them away to a park whenever their father yelled at and threatened their mother, just before she left. As a fourteen-year old, he would pack them in the car and drive them far enough away from home, because with the way he was aging, he passed for at least seventeen. When he got back one day, their mother told him to take care of them and after that, he never saw her again. But he kept his promise.

He made them lunches, took Jungkook to school, stayed home with Angel until she was old enough to go to daycare, all while pretending to be the babysitter when he dropped them off so they wouldn’t be mistaken for family. Having different last names helped him feel like he wasn’t completely lying. As soon as he picked them up and brought them home, he always had dinner ready, helped them with crafty projects and homework while he did his own, got them ready for bed, read stories and sang lullabies, and stayed up way too late worrying about how much longer his father would let him do this.

He knew he couldn't always be the best brother, but he'd be damned not to try.

When he finished high school and his father took every spare moment of his free time away to instead spend grinding down the rest of his innocence in preparation to take over for him one day, he made sure his brother and sister were left with the best nannies. And as they grew older, he sent them away to the best boarding schools in order to keep them away from the family business for as long as possible.

In disguise, he went to Jungkook’s baseball games and math tournaments, and Angel’s piano recitals and debates whenever he could, and if he was unable, he sent one of his guards instead to film them undercover.

Sometimes when he hated everything, hated himself, wished he’d never been born, he spent one too many nights driving back and forth across the Han river bridge, wondering if his father would call him a coward for not having the balls to throw himself over. Because every time he stood on the railing and leaned over imagining what it’d be like to drown in water that pretty, he thought of the only two people he ever truly loved. The ones he hid a picture of in his wallet, because he couldn’t take any on his phone, or even leave some around his house that’s way too big and hollow for just one person, as it would put a risk of revealing both of them to his world too soon.

So each and every time, he got down from the railing, went back to his car, and pulled out his third phone to put them on a three way call, doing his best to keep the fact that he almost permanently abandoned them hidden from his voice. He didn’t care if they playfully complained that he interrupted something in their busy, accomplished lives in school, because he needed to talk to them so they could save him. Time and time again.

But now they have to be saved, and Jin doesn't know if he can. Because he fears that once he’s arrested, they’ll both be put in the worst possible danger and he won’t be around to protect them. He’ll be breaking his promise to their mother. And out of all the sins he's committed, that would be the one thing he could never ask forgiveness for.

So in the midst of his tears and panic, he comes up with a plan to make sure nothing will happen to them in his absence. If anything does, he'd have no problem sending himself straight to the bottom of the river.

They move to the living room for more comfortable seating while Jin goes through his process of formulating plans. Hoseok listens intently, taking mental notes and sharing ideas of how to ensure the safety of Jin's siblings. It involves him, Namjoon, and D, a plethora of guards and weapons, that would all, without fail, protect Jungkook and Angel at all costs. Making plans helps Jin calm down and he eventually returns to his place against Hoseok's chest, hiccupping every now and then from crying so much.

"Promise me you'll look out for them, Sunny," Jin pleads in a quiet, nasally tone, needing reassurance for the tenth time.

"I will. We all will. Me, Joon, D..." he promises.

And then, in a deep breath and a whisper, "We love you."

There's a pause just before Jin slowly turns around with a look in his eye filled with so much emotion that Hoseok has never seen before (and will never see again). There's a glint and a sparkle there as he glances at Hoseok's mouth, something that tells him he wants to say those kind of words back but can't. Instead, he makes a joke, true to his character.

"I've had fantasies about you arresting me,” Jin says, kissing Hoseok on the corner of his mouth as he huffs a laugh. “I don’t think I’d mind going to jail if you were the one taking me there.”

Hoseok cackles as Jin wiggles his eyebrows. "You’re a sick freak, hyung."

With an agreeing grin, Jin kisses him and fucks him right there on the couch, then makes love to him on the floor in front of the fireplace on the faux fur rug, under the warmest, softest blanket. They mark their territory on each other's skin with bruises and bites that will last for weeks. When they're both sweaty and breathless, Jin falls asleep on top of him and Hoseok tries to memorize every inch of his body, like he hasn't already done so countless times before, because he just wants to make sure he never forgets what love feels like. He succumbs to exhaustion with tears pricking the corners of his eyes that he won't let fall.

When he wakes, Jin is gone. Hoseok sits up in the eerily silent, practically empty cabin. The fire is now reduced to embers and it's significantly colder in the cabin. Hoseok hates the hollow feeling he gets as he moves around collecting his things, heavy blanket wrapped around him as he looks for any trace of Jin but finds nothing. The baking ware is gone as well. But there's a carefully wrapped meal left for him in the fridge that he won't be able to stomach until later that day.

There’s a big plate of decorated cookies on the counter and his heart stops and sags when next to it he finds an old phone turned off, covered in Jin's fingerprints, an astronaut sticker plastered and worn on the back.

Taped to it is a note that reads:

If you ever need to save yourself, it’s all right here.

And Hoseok melts on the floor in a puddle of tears at the notion that Jin is willing to sacrifice himself, his freedom, his life all for him if it's one day necessary. This is something he never would have imagined, especially not since years ago when Jin once threatened him and his family for his loyalty and devotion with a gun held to his head. Now, Hoseok thinks he would leave all that behind to stay with Jin. It's stupid and irresponsible, he knows, but Hoseok hasn't found anything in anyone like what he has in Jin. And he doesn't think he ever will. But none of that matters now. Because Jin will be gone and there is nothing Hoseok can do, except pick himself up and leave like none of that meant anything.

He's gotten really good at lying.

.

.

.

part 1. coming soon!!! (for real this time)

masterlist

thanks for reading! this is the last of 2seok we'll see in this series :( they'll be mentioned throughout, but there just won't be anymore interactions. maybe at the very end who knows. i also could be lying and suddenly change my mind lol. hope you enjoyed! let me know if i missed any warnings.

xxx- claret

notes: i hope this all makes sense, like with the legal shit lol, i'm kind of making stuff up as i go bc it's imperative to the plot that both Jin and his father are no longer in charge so bear with me. That and i love the idea of hoseok being a dirty cop and having some forbidden love with mob boss jin.

taglist: @polarnightmyg @rinkud

[all-about-kyu]

Summary: The morning of the takeover, you and Jongho need to find some fun in all the madness. Pairing: Jongho x fem!reader Genre: smut, fluff, very little angst Tropes: established relationship au, anarchy au(?) Rating: R 18+ Warnings: mentions of anarchy, reader has codename Raven, worrying, pet names, mentions of violence, mentions of implied death, mentions of hacking Smut Warnings: unprotected sex, exhibitionism, teasing, kissing, clothed sex, strength kink, dirty talk, marking, creampie Word Count: 2,907 Note: for the Outlaw Collab hosted by @cultofdionysusnet​ Note 2: huge huge thank you to @mejuii​ for beta reading this <3

You felt like you were practically vibrating in your skin. Tonight is the night the outlaws plan to overthrow the academy. Being a part of the whole operation was risky already, but the position you play in the job causes even more risks to come about. Not only are you, Raven of the cyber intelligence team, but you’re also undercover as one of the staff members in the academy. If you were to ever get caught, who knows what would happen to you?

Currently, you’re in your office grading ‘your’ students’ work. You’re not at all focused on the papers in front of you. The subject isn’t interesting in the slightest. Your mind is anywhere but on grading right now. With a frustrated groan, you throw your pen off to the side and push the stack of papers to the corner of your desk. There are no cameras in your office; the higher powers of the academy trust you to be loyal to them. You often use this incorrect trust to your advantage. Still, you’d rather be safe than sorry. You peek out the window of your office door to check for anyone else around. When you see no one, you still opt to pull the blinds down on the off chance an officer is still patrolling the halls at this hour of the morning.

You pull your laptop out from a locked drawer and place it in front of you. You dig through files upon files of information you’ve dug up on this place, the staff, anything you can really. The thought of contacting Syberhawk crosses your mind. You know it’s very likely that she’s likely spending the last few hours of peace locked away with Seonghwa while she can. You can’t even blame her. You’d love to be doing the same with Jongho, but one, you have no idea where he is at the moment. And two, you have a horrible knot in your stomach that you missed something. You could very likely lead Seonghwa into a suicide mission if you don’t give him all of the information properly.

The door to your office pops open quietly. You do the first thing that comes to mind and slam the lid of your laptop down. When you see the bill of a security officer’s hat, you don’t know whether to panic more or not. Then when the man steps in fully, he shuts the door softly.

“It’s just me, little bird.” your boyfriend’s voice fills your ears.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, “Thank god. I thought I was about to get caught.”

He rounds the desk and leans down to place a kiss against the top of your head. He takes off the cap and runs his fingers through his hair as he places the hat on the stack of papers. Slowly, you open your laptop again and start scanning through everything. You can feel Jongho’s eyes on you. You’re choosing to ignore them right now. Jongho squeezes your shoulder lightly, making you turn to look up at him standing beside you.

“You’re overthinking it all, and I know it.”

“Can you just double-check these classified documents I found? I’m so scared I missed something…”

Your boyfriend leans down, leaning against his hand on the desk, “Did you talk to Syberhawk about everything?”

“No, but I’ll send it her way still so she can check it too. She’s probably asleep or busy right now, but the thought is there.”

Jongho chuckles with a light smirk on his lips, “Yeah, probably. No one’s as crazy as you to stay awake preparing for the biggest mission of all time.”

“Shut up,” you tease back, “You don’t see anything I missed, right?” he shakes his head, “Okay, so, where are you coming from?”

“Nightowl’s customs shop.” he states.

It’s been a few days since you’ve seen Nightowl. She’s been hauling ass to get everything ready for tonight. In reality, though, you don’t see her often as it is. She’s in her shop while you’re stuck here posed as a teacher. You do know that Yunho has been hanging out there more often, which piques your interest.

“Was Yunho there this time?”

“Why are you asking about him specifically?” your boyfriend questions.

“Jealous?” you tease.

“No,” he chuckles back, “Just curious, my little bird.”

“The two of them have a weird tension between them.” “Well, it got fucking weirder. When I left, the energy in the shop was all kinds of all over the place.”

You nod and look back at your screen. Jongho isn’t letting you get lost in your mind again as you stare at the device in front of you. He holds your chin between his thumb and first finger and turns your head back toward him. The rush of love and something else shoots through you as you look at him. He’s still leaning against your desk as he holds your chin. The sight of that alone makes you want to melt in his hands. Then, you add the uniform on top of that, and you’re done for. An absolute mess for your boyfriend.

“Something else is on your mind. You can’t hide those things from me. As good of an actress as you are, you can’t hide things from me.” he reminds you with a light giggle.

“I’m worried.” you sigh.

“About tonight?”

You nod, “I’ll be at the safehouse with the rest of the technology and cyber intelligence team and…”

“And I’ll be out in the field.” he finishes your sentence for you, “Little bird, this isn’t any different from any other mission. You’re always in our earpieces, and I’m always out in the field with the others.”

“This is different though, Jongho…” you sigh again.

“How so?”

His eyes drip with sincerity and care for you. Your eyes flit across his face as you try to formulate your words mentally. His hand moves to hold your cheek, thumb gently caressing your cheekbone.

“It’s just… this one is so much more dangerous than the others.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles again, “and the one where I nearly blew my leg up wasn’t.”

“You know what I mean. There’s so much more on the line this time.”

“I do. I know you’re worried, but we’re always beyond careful with everything. You and Syberhawk are at the safe house, keeping an eye on everything from a safe distance. I’d much rather you be at the safehouse and away from the physical danger than with me and in immediate physical danger.”

“You know damn well I could run circles around you.” you tease, “I joined this resistance before you and got a whole lot more training because of that.”

“Watch it, pretty. Remember which one of us sits in front of a computer almost all day and which of us is doing hand-to-hand combat.”

You giggle lightly, “That’s fine by me.”

“Seriously though, if you’re still worried about me being in direct danger, you know Sparrow is the person to talk to. She’s letting Joong go out there too. I’m sure Syberhawk is worried sick, too. Hwa is putting everything on the line for this. He’s the bait… talk to them about it all if you really need it.” he speaks softly.

You nod and let out a shaky sigh, “You ready to go tell Seonghwa what we know?”

“Now?”

“Now. If we don’t go now, we won’t go at all.”

You lock your computer and put it in your bag before pushing your chair out. The moment you stand up, you feel Jongho’s arm wrap around your waist. He pulls you to his chest and kisses you until you’re breathless. Normally, especially here, Jongho isn’t one for physical intimacy. You practically melt into the kiss. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you start to deepen the kiss. Just as you’re about to progress things further, Jongho pulls back and smirks at you.

“We best be off then.”

“Asshole.” you huff.

“As you said, if we don’t go now, we won’t go at all. Come on, let’s get walking.” he states, jerking his head toward the door.

“Walking?”

“Do you want them to hear the bike? It’s not a long walk to the meeting point with Hwa.”

You look down at your outfit, “you expect me to walk in the stiff, formal outfit? I’m wearing fucking heels, Jongho.” you whine.

Jongho tosses a bag at you. Luckily, you catch it, “I know you too well. Once we’re out of the building, get changed, I’ll cover you, okay?”

“Where did you even hide this bag? I didn’t see you holding one when you came in.”

“Behind your plant over here, little bird. I left it there after you whined about having to walk in your undercover outfit last time.”

You navigate your way through the halls. You’re both still wearing the uniforms that disguise you as staff of the academy, making things much easier to slip under the radar. There aren’t many people in the halls at this hour of the morning. The two people you do cross paths with simply assume that Jongho is another security guard that’s walking you (presumed to be a teacher) somewhere. You exit the building via a door in one of the few blind spots this massive campus has. Luckily, the other side of the doorway happens to be a blind spot. Instantly you throw the bag of clothing at your boyfriend. You hastily start unbuttoning the uncomfortable blouse the uniform requires.

“Damn, couldn’t wait another minute?” Jongho teases.

“Shut up and help me get this shit off. I can’t stand it.” you sigh.

You see something shift in your boyfriend’s eyes, but he still reaches into the bag and pulls out the tight-fitting black tank top inside. His eyes wander across your nearly bare top half, trying hard not to fuck you stupid right then and there. It’s been a while since you and your boyfriend got to be intimate with each other. With the hecticness of planning everything that’s about to come to a head tonight, along with keeping your covers, neither of you can remember the last time you got more than a small peck.

You’re slipping off the knee-length pencil skirt with one hand outstretched to get too ripped black jeans from Jongho. When you look at him, you see the dark swirls of lust stronger in his gaze. You smirk before standing upright and holding eye contact with him.

“Don’t get any ideas there.” you chuckle, “Hwa’s probably been waiting for us forever.”

Jongho steps closer and cups your cheek in his hand. The other rests against your bare hip, holding you in place. You feel the cool bricks of the building against the back of your legs and through the fabric of your underwear. Your heart is pounding out of your chest in the best way possible.

“Forever can spare a few more minutes. Don’t you think, little bird?” he nearly whispers.

“I- I think it can.” you match his tone.

He doesn’t waste another moment. His lips are on yours. The feeling of his plush lips on yours sends a rush of arousal through your body. The cool sting of the breeze cuts through you, but it only serves to make you more desperate to have Jongho surrounding every fiber of your being. His kisses trail down your throat, leaving small red marks on your skin in his wake. Your fingers fiddle with the button of his tactile pants for a few moments before popping it open. Jongho chuckles against your lips slightly before letting his other hand grip your hip tighter.

“Forever may have a few more minutes, but we better hurry along before that person who’s been waiting forever starts to worry.”

“Seonghwa is such a mother hen. He’ll be fine. Now, are you ready for me, or should I prep you a bit?”

“If you don’t get inside me in the next minute, you’ll be sleeping in the lounge for a week.”

“That sounds like an empty threat, little bird.” he singsongs.

Despite the teasing banter, he allows you to unzip his pants fully and bury your hand inside, wrapping your hand around his hard cock. His hand that was previously holding your face slides down to grab your thigh, squeezing the plush skin in his hand. You push the material of his pants and briefs down just enough to release his member from its constraints. Jongho hikes your thigh up on his hip before his other hand hooks around your panties to pull them aside.

You feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against your dripping entrance. It takes everything in you not to beg him to put it inside you already. The last thing you need is to be caught in this extremely compromising situation. As he pushes into you inch by inch, you busy yourself with kissing along his throat, nipping at the skin in hopes that would stop you from moaning too loudly. Soon enough, he bottoms out inside you and lets out a small groan of appreciation.

“Fuck, it’s been too long since I’ve been buried in this soaking cunt.” he muses, “Can’t wait for this fucking mission to be done so I can stay inside you all the time.”

“Jongho, please,” you pant, “Fuck me properly.”

He recaptures your lips as he repositions his stance. At first, you’re so lost in the kiss to process anything besides the slow thrusts into you. Then you process his hand that had remained on your hip and move to hold your other thigh before lifting you off the ground entirely. Jongho begins thrusting into you as if it’s the last time he’ll ever get to fuck you. The sudden shift in his thrust nearly knocks the air out of you. The harsh texture of the bricks against your skin is bound to leave marks, but you couldn’t care less about that. You toss your head back against the cold stone and let a broken moan escape your lips.

“Shh, we can’t get caught, baby.” he teases, though a groan escapes his lips moments after he speaks, “I’m not gonna last long, little bird. It’s been too long since I’ve gotten to be inside you.”

“Jongho, please, fuck me hard. Need you to cum inside me so badly.”

“You’re getting off on me holding you against this wall, aren’t you?”

“You’re so strong, and you’re holding me up like I weigh nothing. It’s so fucking hot.” you whine.

Somehow his already bruising pace grows harsher, and you feel your ass hitting against the now-warm bricks behind you with each thrust. You bury your face in your boyfriend’s shoulder, hoping to hide the squeaky broken moans you let out. Jongho lets an endless stream of filthy pretty words escape his lips as his pace begins to grow erratic. You feel the tightly wound chord of your orgasm snap, and your walls flutter around him as you ride out your high. The way you squeeze him triggers his own orgasm, and his cum floods your walls. His thrusts start to slow before he stops fully. He stays inside you as you both catch your breath. Gently, Jongho lowers your legs back to the ground and doesn’t let go of you until you’re fully stable on your legs again. You tug your panties back into place, not caring about the fact that you have Jongho’s cum dripping out of you onto the fabric.

“You don’t want to clean up?” your boyfriend questions.

“What could I possibly clean up with?” you ask with a slight chuckle.

“Your ‘uniform’, maybe?” “I will not be getting cum stains on that thing.” you say with a playfully disgusted tone.

“It was an offer.” he laughs back.

Jongho tucks himself back into the uniform pants and hands you the jeans you were meant to put on to start with. You scoff and start slipping on the dark clothing. You struggle for a few moments as you fight to get your chunky boots on your feet while standing. The action causes your boyfriend to chuckle at you again and give you an adoring smile. He takes it upon himself to put the academy uniform into the back that previously held your personal clothing.

“How obvious is it that we just fucked?” you question as you toss your hair back into a ponytail.

“Well, judging by your neck alone… very.”

“Jongho! You-” you stop yourself, “You’re actually not much better.”

“So we’re about to go see one of our closest friends while it’s painfully obvious that we just fucked.”

“Well… we really don’t have a choice. The sun is rising. Let’s get to Seonghwa before he really panics, or we get caught on academy grounds while I clearly look like an outsider.” you huff.

Jongho pecks your cheek lightly and entangles your fingers with his, “We better get going, for real this time.”

You smile at him and start running toward the gate that leads to the outside world. You’re absolutely terrified about tonight, but you just have to trust that all the pieces of the puzzle are in place. You trust your boyfriend and the group you’re both a part of. Now all you can do is tell Seonghwa what you know and give him the best advice you can with the said information.

COPYRIGHT STARLITMARK 2023© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED — reposting/modifying any fic or piece of original writing posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations are not permitted. 

Networks: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity @kwritersworld

Tag List: @sanjoongie @jaehunnyy @ericssmile @anyamaris

[juuuulez]

🎧 | playlist roulette, 500+ follower celebration!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁ .

🎰 -> lip gallagher, carmen berzatto, richie jerimovich, mikey berzatto, sydney adamu, carl grimes, negan smith.

📚 -> smut, angst, fluff etc…

just inbox a character + song and i’ll write a short fic/blurb about it! songs marked 🔥 are exclusively NSFW due to, well… the nature of the song. otherwise, feel free to suggest a genre you’d prefer, or none at all, and i’ll go with the whatever suits it best. i’ve gone with songs that give a good mix of different vibes and ideas for some variety.

artists are in alphabetical order and are from my personal playlists, you’ll find: childish gambino, doja cat, faye webster, kendrick lamar, lana del rey, nicki minaj, paramore, phoebe bridgers, tyler the creator, taylor swift…

☆ childish gambino, heartbeat: ✅

⟡ richie jerimovich.

so we're done? this the real shit? / we used to hold hands like field trips / i'm a jerk, but your dude is a real dick / i read his posts on your wall, and i feel sick.

☆ childish gambino, me and your mama:

⟡ negan smith.

i’m in love when we are smoking that la-la-la-la-la / i’m in love when we are smoking that la-la-la-la-la.

☆ 🔥 doja cat, agora hills: ✅

⟡ carmen berzatto.

somethin' different about you / love it when he hit and smack too / baby, lemme lick on your tattoos / that’s true that i like PDA / take it to a seedy place / suck a little dick in the bathroom.

☆ 🔥 doja cat, cyber sex: ✅

⟡ lip gallagher.

when he off work, he calling me on skype (yeah!) / trust me when i meet him, i’m fucking him on sight (yeah) / lemme see you can beat it, i’m feelin' just like mike (okay, okay).

☆ faye webster, kingston:

⟡ richie jerimovich.

he said, "baby, " that's what he called me, "i love you" / every single word you say makes me feel some type of way / it’s the thought of you that slightly scares me / but it takes my breath away, forget what i was gonna say.

☆ kendrick lamar, father time:

⟡ carmen berzatto.

oh, this the part where mental stability meets talent / oh, this the part, he breaks my humility just for practice / tactics we learned together, sore losers forever, daddy issues.

☆ lana del rey, margaret:

⟡ lip gallagher.

alright, let's waltz this out, 'cause / 'cause when you know, you know / and when you're old, you're old / like Hollywood and me, that diamond on your ring.

☆ nicki minaj, anaconda:

i-i-i’m high as hell, i only took a half a pill / i’m on some dumb shit / by-by-by-by-by-by the way, what he say? / he can tell I ain't missing no meals.

☆ nicki minaj, pink friday girls:

lookin' for my lipgloss and my liner (liner) / lookin' for me, told him meet me at the diner (diner) / got him smilin' 'cause he know i outshine her ('shine her) / had to pop her just to remind her.

☆ paramore, thick skull:

i am a magnet for broken pieces / i am attracted to broken people / i pick 'em up and now my fingers are bleeding / and it looks like my fault / and it looks like i’m caught red-handed.

☆ phoebe bridgers, saviour complex:

baby, you're a vampire / you want blood and i promised / i’m a bad liar / with a savior complex.

☆ phoebe bridgers, waiting room:

⟡ sydney adamu.

and i can wish all that i want, but it won't bring us together / plus, i know whatever happens to me, i know it's for the better.

☆ taylor swift, love story:

⟡ lip gallagher.

that you were romeo, you were throwin' pebbles / and my daddy said, "stay away from juliet" / and I was cryin' on the staircase / beggin' you, "please don't go.”

☆ taylor swift, paper rings:

⟡ lip gallagher.

i like shiny things, but i’d marry you with paper rings / uh huh, that's right / darling, you're the one i want, and / i hate accidents except when we went from friends to this.

☆ tyler the creator, are we still friends?: ✅

⟡ mikey berzatto.

don’t get green skin (green skin), keep contact (keep contact) / don’t say, "goodbye, smell you later" (bye, later) / nah, i can't / i don't want to end this season on a bad episode.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁ .

and on a more serious note: thank you for all the support on my works!! this blog has been my little safespace for indulging in all my silly little thoughts, and it makes me so happy that others can appreciate what i make too.

i’m excited to explore more tv shows and movies and let my blog and writing grow along with my interests, so i hope you’ll all stick around for the ride!

nervous about finally posting this, i’ve been thinking about doing it for a long time….i wanna write every song on here, so i’m really excited about it!!! feel free to send in multiple if you want ;P

[bean-bean2000]

The Hacker - Part 13

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, angst

Status: Ongoing

Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Master list

———————————————————————————

When Bucky returns from the mission, you decide to stay behind in the kitchen while the others greet him in the garage.

If he wants to act cold then hot, then I will too.

You're making yourself some brownies and hot chocolate in preparation for your night-in watching the newest episode of your favourite TV show. As you're busy baking, Bucky walks into the kitchen and sits on a stool at the bar.

You don't say anything, let alone acknowledge his presence. You see his brows furrow as he watches you.

Another minute of silence goes by before Bucky breaks "Hey, we did good out there. You really helped guide me. Sucks we couldn't find the paper documents we needed."

You shrug your shoulders "Yeah, it is what it is."

Bucky coughs and fidgets in his seat "Um, so what are you baking?"

"Brownies." you reply dryly.

"What for?" he asks, trying to make conversation with you. Truth is, he missed you while he was gone and felt bad for the way he acted during the mission. He knows he was dry with her and wants to apologize so they could go back to the way they were before.

"Because I want some." you reply dryly again.

Bucky has had enough entertaining it "Okay what the hell is going on? Why are you acting so dry around me? Did I do something wrong?" he asks, raising his voice. His fist is clenched in anger.

You drop your whisk in the bowl angrily. "What is MY problem? Are you fucking kidding me? Ever since I got here you've been the perfect guy. Always there for me when I needed, consoling me after my nightmares, listening to me when I needed to vent about my trauma... and then suddenly you're cold with me then your acting hot again. I don't get it!" Your emotions explode.

"Why does it matter to you? It’s not like you care anyway!" Bucky says. He cringes when he hears the harsh tone in his voice and the hurt look on your face.

"BECAUSE I LOVE YOU BUCKY!” you yell back.

“I thought you.... I guess I was wrong. Just forget it. It's my fault for assuming there was something here when clearly you feel nothing for me. Let's pretend this never even happened. We’ll avoid each other for a while and just stay colleagues.” You drop everything, walking out of the kitchen and locking yourself in your room.

Bucky says nothing. He is shocked at her confession.

He doesn't run after you, fearing you may hate him more if he bothers you. He decides to give you your space.

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

The next day you go straight to Steve's office.

"Hey cap, listen don't book me on any missions with Bucky anymore, please. I don't feel like explaining just please respect it." you plead with him.

Steve is shocked at your sudden appearence in his office and he notices your puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks.

"I... yeah. Sure, no problem." he says, deciding against asking you what's wrong and respecting your wishes.

You nod and quickly walk out of his office and go upstairs to yours, locking yourself inside once again.

Steve walks out of his office and goes straight to the gym to find Bucky.

He's doing his workout when Steve punches him in the arm.

"Ow! What the fuck Steve?" Bucky yells, rubbing his arm in pain.

"What did you do?! Cyber just requested to not have any more missions with you! Care to explain, dumbass?" Steve says angrily.

Bucky knows he fucked up bad when Steve curses.

"I.. I don't know man. Yesterday when I got back from the mission she was acting so cold towards me so I confronted her about it and she exploded on me. She was saying how she doesn't understand why i'm so hot and cold with her. I fucked up and asked her why she even caares and she admitted that it's because she likes me. Before I could intervene, she started rambling saying to forget about it and ran to her room." Bucky explains.

"You really are an idiot. Are you serious?! You didn't run after her? You haven't spoken to her since? Nothing?! Dude, she admitted she LOVES you. You clearly love her too. Even though you won't admit it to yourself, I know you, I see the way you look at her. Why didn't you say anything?" Steve questions.

"I... I was going to but I'm scared. If I can hurt her like this before even telling her how I feel about her, how badly will I hurt her if we end up dating? I always fuck shit up, Steve. I can't ruin what I have with her. I think it's best if we just keep our distance for now." Bucky says, running his hand through his hair.

"You are not being serious right now. How will you ever know until you try? What could you possibly do to hurt her? I know how much you care for her and that you would treat her like a queen. You’re being selfish. She is already hurting because you’re shutting her out. You need to man up and figure this out." Steve says and he walks out of the gym angrily.

Bucky stands still in the gym processing what Steve said. He doesn't know if he can do it. His mind is racing with a million questions.

What if she only likes me on the surface? Has she truly seen who I am? She knows about my past.... she hasn't run away from me because of it... Do I take the chance and talk to her? Isn't she better off getting hurt now before we get too involved and end up hurting each other worse than ever?....I haven't felt this way for anyone in years...Do I just take the chance?

Bucky sighs heavily as he removes his gear and exits the gym.

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

Steve is still fuming following his conversation with Bucky. He's whispering to himself angrily: "How can he be so stupid? I can't believe it... he does this after everything....." As he's walking back to his office angrily, he gets an idea.

He goes upstairs and knocks on Cyber's office door. He can hear music playing and the LED lights on.

He hears a small "Who is it?".

"It's Steve, Cyber.... can we have a little chat?" Steve says gently.

"Yeah... come in." you say.

Steve gently pushes the door open and takes a seat beside you.

You look at him expectantly, waiting for him to start the conversation.

“So I just wanted to talk to you about Bucky…” Steve starts.

You feel your heart beat faster at the mention of his name and your anxiety rises. “No, Steve I really don’t want to right now… I’d rather just keep some space between us for a while…”

“No no I understand. It’s just that I’ve known Bucky since we were kids… I know how he thinks and why he does what he does…” Steve begins.

“Steve, I don’t mean to be rude or anything but I don’t want to talk about him right now… I don’t know what’s going on but something has changed. He doesn’t speak to me anymore or look at me the same way…”

Steve presses his lips together in a straight line, contemplating what to say as you continue your rant.

“I’m processing a lot and i’m finally starting to feel like myself again… I’m going to be honest with you… I thought Bucky and I had a thing going… i don’t know maybe it was all in my head but.. I guess it was naive of me to think anything more than a friendship could happen here….”

Steve shifts in his seat wondering if he should say anything….

He sighs “Hear me out….I want you to know that he doesn’t tend to express his emotions as well as he does through his actions… Just give him a chance, he's a stubborn old mule.” He sighs heavily and gets up from his seat.

“I just thought you should know that…” he says as he leaves.

You sit there dumbfounded.

What did he mean by that?

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Tag list:

@unaxv

@winterslove1917

@kandis-mom

@cjand10

@ordelixx

@abbyyourlocalmilf

@scott-loki-barnes

@rosecentury

@blackhawkfanatic

@hennessy0274

[ares-protector-art]

I'm back! Finals are over! I can finally draw instead of studying like I've wanted to do all week! And I got things!!!!

First, I got another pencil set. Never thought I'd be excited about odd number B pencils, and yet I am ecstatic about it! I also have a white charcoal pencil now? Don't know when I'll use it, but I'm still excited. There's also a knife and sand paper???? Unsure what those are for, I will be looking it up at some point. Also, it has a pencil extender, so I'm no longer afraid of pencils being too short. And the thing I got the whole set for, blending stumps!!! I'm very excited about those.

I also got digital art stuff!!!(Thank you Cyber Monday) So, I got this supposedly beginner friendly drawing pad and art glove. The art glove makes me feel so cool. I'm using the art program Krita for now, as it also is supposedly beginner friendly and free. I've had all this stuff for a week, but I forced myself to not open any of it so I could focus on studying.

So, I spent around 6 hours drawing and messing around today. Honestly, very overwhelming at first. I felt like all of my skills vanished, sketching a circle was hard, there was so much to figure out, and I had to get over the learning curve of not seeing my hand while drawing. I'm still a bit overwhelmed, but far less now than I was initially. I figured out a lot of things and can sketch circles again, but I am still confused by a lot of things. I meant to watch a video that explains things but forgot. Below is the last 3 hours of drawing. Mainly figuring out brushes, layers, and how to put pictures on the thing. The first 3 hours were lost to the void because I didn't know how to save things yet. It was just this but only squiggles and awful circles.

[bucknastysbabe]

♡ 1, 2, 3, 4 I wanna be a whore ♡

Rating: Explicit

Tags: SLUTTY HIMBO CAMBOY AEGON, Aemond can’t stand the little creacher, nerdy reader, pillow humping, oral sex on a toy, f!masturbation, cyber sex, open ending, Aegon’s a little slut for attention and we all know it, Post Nut Clarity, modern setting

A/N: I got horny and inspired from the gc again.

Enjoy: @godrakin @borikenlove @targbarbie @fairysluna @ilikeitbetterangsty @lovelykhaleesiii @sahvlren @xfancyuu

You were friends with Aemond. Study partners who chat and chain smoke more like. The pair of you were in grad school for Psychology. Which you had the idea Aemond chose this profession to figure out what the hell what wrong with his family. But that was none of your business of course.

His brother actually lived in the apartment…but you rarely saw Aegon. Aemond sniffed about his elder, “He’s a degenerate. Stay away lest you end up with a disease.” You thought his brother was cute, in a soft way. Although, Aemond had a point. It was obviously he liked to…go out. Get busy. It made your cheeks blush to think what he did.

Pausing on your research you looked up at Aemond. He was thoroughly annotating a book, pen scratching against the book. You looked around the spacious apartment, thinking. “Aemond.”

“Hm?,” he intoned, eyes not moving from the paper.

“Okay so I know you have a job and everything. Um. What does Aegon do for work?”

The pen stopped. Aemond’s lips quirked up a bit as he turned to you. He asked, “Do you really want to know? The more questions you ask about my darling brother the more you will need to take a shower.”

You scoffed and replied, “I’m not a septa. What is it? He’s an escort for old ladies?”

Aemond sighed, chuckling, “No. The wretch does ‘camming’. Gets on a live feed and acts like a slut for money.” He rolled his eye, “The bills are paid. I don’t dig deeper.”

You laughed airily, cheeks flushing up again. You stated, “You’re lying. Really?”

“When he’s not partying all night with god knows what the little bastard does that shit. Good thing I’m usually gone when it happens,” he shook his long hair, “Enough. I’ll get sick on my book.”

“Yeah, okay.”

You stared at your report for thirty minutes straight thinking about Aegon’s ‘job’. Imagining his pretty body spread out on a bed, moaning and sighing. Your cunt twitched. This was bad. Then your brain spat out the idea of Aegon’s lips wrapped around a dildo and you slammed the laptop shut.

“I need to go home. My cat is probably hungry.”

Aemond glanced up under his hair, smirking haughtily. He hummed, “Uh-huh. Have a good night. Text me about the next meeting, I was thinking we should consider a non-intrusive measures study.” You packed your shit haphazardly, nodding along and babbling, “Yep, sounds good, see ya later Aem.” He laughed again as you shuffled out.

You huffed once in the hallway. This little, fixation, needed to be gone. Aegon was by all means a fuck face from how Aemond explained it and even Daeron agreed when he visited a while back. You’d barely spoken a word to the man but he was pretty, okay?

Clicking the button to the elevator, it opened immediately, you stepping in with your head down— completely out of it. A yelp and very human body collided with your own, sending your drink and phone flying backwards. You stumbled back and apologized profusely, then choking on your spit when Aegon’s lidded eyes met your own.

He smirked, bending down to pick up your phone. Your mouth grew dry at the sight of his painted nails. Aegon rasped, “My bad. Aemond will make anyone run away without looking.” You smiled awkwardly, scooping your drink and replying, “No, of course not! Just been staring at my research all day.”

He eyed you up, violet eyes sparkling. Aegon giggled, “That sounds dreary! What are you going to do now?”

You blushed under his gaze and shrugged. “I- uh- Probably go feed my cat and have some wine and watch tv.” Aegon snickered further, “You’re as bad as Aem. Must be a psychologist thing. I have an idea for you.” Your brows raised up at his provocative tone.

“Aaaah-and what is that Aegon?,” you stuttered while shifting on your feet.

He held his hand out and asked, “Phone?”

Dumbstruck you unlocked the phone and gave it to him, lamely adding, “I’m not much of a party person, if that’s what you’re doing.” He shook his pale waves and hummed nonchalantly, “Just leaving something in your notes, check it later.”

He gave the phone back with a pretty smile, you practically mush under Aegon’s gaze. You stammered, “Ah- okay- s-see you later Aegon. Thanks!” You stepped into the elevator and pressed for ground floor. Aegon stood and chirped as the doors closed on him, “You won’t regret it!”

Immediately swiping open your phone and jamming on the notes app multiple times you read what the blonde had typed out. It was a website and a username, ‘dragonwh0r3’. You had to stifle a laugh at the silly name but you were most definitely tuning in to what Aegon was bringing to the table.

Hours later you were seated on the couch, big ass shirt on and pussy out. The vibrator laid next to your twitching fingers. You had typed in and found Aegon’s account, even paying the fee for the live watch. You’d been fucking wet since the elevator debacle, it was needed. A splurge, Aemond needn’t know. And wouldn’t know.

The feed started, your eyes roving across the the screen, rabbit clicking to make it full screen. Aegon was clad in silky pink shorts and had some sort of Angel outfit on. He looked angelic, especially with the outline of his pretty cock straining the silk. In a soft purr he spoke, “Heyyy babes, missed you all so much. By popular request I’m wearing the outfit ‘twinkfucker78’ sent me, thank you!” He grinned and blew a kiss at the camera.

You were going to fucking blow up. Spontaneous combustion. Nuclear fission. Fuck.

A couple of clinking noises filled the speakers, obviously fans who wanted attention or a request. Aegon’s violet eyes skimmed over the chat, his full lips quirking up teasingly. He ran a hand down his chest and giggled, “Lots of different ideas for tonight. Y’wanna defile the angel huh?” Loads more of coins jingling hit the chat.

Aegon laughed, “That’s a lot of money, hm, I do love having something in my mouth!” He leaned forward toward the camera and breathed, “I’ll have to go get my toys, you guys are something else tonight.” You almost whimpered when he disappeared, but Aegon came back with a rounded pillow with a dildo obscenely sticking out from the end.

He placed it on the bed, tutting, “Going to have to work for it tonight,” he pouted with fat lips, “You guys are mean.” The chat blew up again, more and more feeding in. Aegon stripped out of his silky shorts, exposing his pink cock and bubbly ass. You moaned, reaching for the vibrator. Aegon’s cock was so pretty, thick, and curved.

He straddled the pillow and you shivered realizing what was about to happen. As if Aegon read your mind he rambled, “So, yeah, m’gonna hump this pillow and suck a little. I love having things in and on my mouth, cock, pussy, fingers, whatever.” You watched with wide eyes, trembling with excitement.

Aegon lapped up on the pink cock, taking it time getting it wet, like it was real, hips rutting behind him. You grabbed your phone to take a picture of the credit QR code like a madwoman, Aegon’s slurps and moans echoing in your living room. You gave no fucks dropping 50 and typing haphazardly, “You possibly can’t fuck my pussy that slow. Speed it up, Angel.”

Your face flushed harder, panting, and glad you picked some dumbass username. Aegon was moaning around the head of the cock, watery eyes flickering up to the screen. His lips split around the lurid pink, pulling off with a line of drool. The blonde panted in a high tone, “Mhm, someone’s needy? You want me to fuck your sweet pussy faster? Guys m’so tireddd though, feel like being lazy.”

You didn’t have to drop any money this time, a cacophony of clinking filling the room. Aegon rolled his eyes and began to move faster, plump lips obscenely stretched. He whined softly, eyes fluttering. Fuck, he was gorgeous. Aegon pumped his pretty pale hips harder, gagging around the fake cock, drooling.

Aegon whined, “Fuck, wish this was your cunt, bet it’d be so warm n’ tight hngh!”

You had the vibe on your clit and those purple eyes looked like they were on you, and you only. You cried out and shivered, goosebumps erupting over your skin. You typed again with shaking hands, praying he’d see it, “Slutty boy all you think about is getting your dick wet? Already whining on a pillow lol.”

It probably would get lost in a flurry of comments.

Aegon didn’t lose it apparently. His body drew taught, milky thighs flexing as he moaned gutturally. The blonde had the dildo sliding on his flushed cheeks as he rasped, “One- hah- of you thinks I can’t fuck?” One of your legs was haphazardly thrown to the side at Aegon’s drawl, “Baby, I’d fuck you whining like a bitch and you’d still see stars.”

You seized up and came around the vibrator, howling in pleasure. Legs shaking, eyes watering, absolutely earth shattering orgasm. The thought of this perfect, slutty angel fucking you was too much. You laid back on the couch, watching him messily suck the cock while practically bouncing on the pillow. He whined and squirmed, growing close, popping off the fake cock to whine.

“Oh god, close, gonna cum so hard baby, oh!,” he whimpered shakily, eyes clenching shut as he shook. Aegon leaned back to paint his soft tummy and the pillows with cum, groaning and tossing pretty platinum hair around. The chat roared with more clinking, you an absolute noodle by now.

Aegon shuddered one more time, panting out, “Mmm- fuck guys. See you tomorrow?”

He rolled on his side, wide eyes closer to the screen, lashes wet. Aegon cooed, “Thanks again for making this slutty baby cum and eat some dinner. Love you guys, remember my prices for private vids are linked on my page. Bye!” The blonde blew a kiss and the screen went dark.

You looked up at the ceiling and groaned, “Holy goddamn fucking shit! I just came to Aemond’s brother! The dumb slutty one!”

Post nut clarity was a bitch.

Your phone vibrated. Rifling around you picked it up, seeing an unknown number. Sleepily swiping it open your eyes widened dramatically.

“y don’t u just cum to my room and ill show you how i fuck next time u wanna be boring w aem?”

Well. Aemond would just have to get over it.

“Sure. Can’t wait. Bad grammar though.”

[clarepreed]

Lazarus Sleeps

Story Summary and Content - 5,821 words. Bad news and a worse mistake. Choking, on-site resuscitation, Time of Death called.

Previous installment: Heart-to-Heart

--

Larissa

“What are we having for lunch?” Larissa stepped up behind Mitchell’s chair, slipping her arms loosely around his shoulders and planting a kiss on the top of his head.

He sat down his papers and reached up to grasp her arms, his thumbs smoothing her skin. She felt him trace the scar on her arm. The sensation was cold and tingly, with a prickle up near her elbow. She kissed his hair again.

“I hope you don’t mind that I ordered without asking you first. I wanted to surprise you.” He turned, gently pulling Larissa around and down into his lap. His arms went around her waist.

“Ooh,” Larissa giggled, tipping her head back. “I like surprises.”

Mitchell kissed her neck, inhaling the herbal scent of her shampoo. He needed to shave; his stubble rasped on the delicate skin of her throat, making her squirm.

“What are we having?” Larissa asked, leaning back. “Or do I need to wait until it gets here?”

Mitchell chuckled. “Nigiri.”

“Ohhh,” Larissa moaned. “You know the way to my heart is my stomach. Which restaurant?”

“Itō.”

Larissa shot her eyebrows up toward her hairline. “They deliver?”

“This is the first day they are offering delivery. I’ve been following them on Instagram.” He reached up and tweaked Larissa’s nose. “I know, I’m the oldest person you know on Instagram. That’s what Mark tells me, anyway.”

Larissa rolled her eyes at him. “That can’t possibly be true. Besides, Mark is one to talk. He’s the same age as you, and didn’t IT have to uninstall TikTok from his phone for security reasons?”

“They asked him to, yes. IT and the cyber security firm recommended it. The board was neutral, since we aren’t public. Our Chinese clients assured me they weren’t offended by our new company policy.” He laughed. “Mark was disappointed.”

A rap at the door drew Larissa’s attention. “The doorman let them up this time?”

“I called down and gave him a heads up.” Mitchell sat Larissa on her feet. “I’ll get it.”

While he was answering the door, Larissa’s phone rang in her back pocket. She glanced at her watch, saw the name of one of the company’s lawyers. On the table, Mitchell’s phone started to ring. Another one of the company’s lawyers.

“Honey?” She called out. “The lawyers are calling us. Something must be going on…”

“What was that?” he called back.

Larissa answered the phone, pressing it to her ear. “Larissa speaking.”

“Larissa. It’s Grace.”

“Good afternoon… How may I help you?”

“Listen, Larissa. I have news. Is Mitchell with you?”

Larissa eased herself down into Mitchell’s empty seat. “He’s in the apartment, but he’s… Oh, here he comes.”

Mitchell closed the door, takeout containers in hand. He raised his eyebrows at her, and she shrugged.

“Do you mind putting me on speaker?” Grace asked. “George tried to call him but he didn’t answer.”

“Um, sure,” Larissa sat the phone on the table and pressed the “speaker” button. “Mitchell, Grace is on the phone and wants to speak with us. Grace, you’re on speaker.”

“Grace, it’s Mitchell. What’s going on?” He sat the food containers on the table and leaned over the phone, his hands pressing flat on the table’s surface.”

“It’s about Benjamin Miller.”

Ben Miller.

Larissa’s throat tightened. She cleared it, felt Mitchell’s eyes on her.

“Go on,” he said calmly.

“He’s been released from prison. Three days ago.”

A short film flicked through her mind, frame by frame. Cinnamon candies on her desk and on her bed. Ben Miller’s face when he forced his way into her room. His snarl as he choked the life out of her.

“What?” Mitchell’s voice was flat and unusually calm. “I thought he had another two years.”

“Apparently, he was released on good behavior due to overcrowding. He’s on probation. We just found out, but we are working on a restraining order—”

“Has Security been informed?” Again, that unnatural calm from Mitchell. Larissa forced herself to take a deep breath and let it out through pursed lips. Her hands were shaking, so she clasped them together in her lap.

“Security is aware, and George is calling the other C-levels right now.”

“Okay. Is there anything else I need to know?” Mitchell pressed his hands so hard into the surface of the table that his skin went splotchy.

“No, sir. But we will call you if anything comes up.”

“Thank you, Grace.”

“Of course, Mitchell. Larissa.” There was a sigh. “I think it’s bullshit. I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you. I’m going to go now, Grace. Goodbye.”

“Bye.”

The line disconnected and Mitchell and Larissa lapsed into silence.

After a moment, Larissa reached out toward the takeout bags. She unpacked everything methodically, and then rose, headed for the kitchen.

“Larissa?” Mitchell sounded tentative.

“What would you like to drink?” Her throat was still tight, and she cleared her throat. “I’m having water.”

“I still have coffee; I don’t need anything. Thank you.” A long pause. “Are you okay? Because I’m not okay…”

“I think I would like to have a nice lunch before we unpack the information we just got,” Larissa said. She listened to herself, heard how hoarse she was. Clearing her throat, she took a sip of her water before walking back to the table.

Mitchell stared at her, pale aside from two blotches of color on his cheeks. She offered him a wobbly smile. 

“We will be okay for a half hour,” she said. 

Mitchell walked back over to the door, checked the locks. When he joined her again at the table, she thought he looked a little calmer. “You’re right,” he murmured.

They ate in near silence, their earlier light mood extinguished.

“This is great,” Larissa said. Her hands were shaking again. “It’s almost as good as eating there in front of the chef.”

“Yes…” Mitchell glanced at her, then put his chopsticks down. “Larissa…”

Her eyes were tearing up. Larissa cleared her throat yet again and shook her head. She deftly captured a piece of nigiri with her chopsticks, popped it in her mouth. Normally, she would bite these in half, even though that wasn’t how it was to be eaten traditionally.

But in this moment, distracted, she defaulted to her younger, healthier mindset. Simultaneously, the dam inside broke.

Tears rolled down her cheeks, and her shoulders trembled. She exhaled through her nose, making a sound that was almost a sob. Then the fatal mistake: she sucked in air, pulling the partially chewed bite of sticky rice and fish deep into her airway.

Her reaction was instant, as the vinegar and wasabi burned both up into her sinuses and down into her lungs. She gagged, dropped her chopsticks. Her chair tipped over, clattering behind her as she lurched to her feet. When she looked up, Mitchell had leaped to his feet and was reaching for her, her fear reflected in his own eyes.

“Larissa! Are you choking?!” 

Larissa tried reflexively to move air, felt her eyes bulge and her heart rate surge. A clicking sound emerged from her straining mouth. Mitchell pulled her toward him, spun her around. She felt his arms come around her.

“I’ve got you, you’re okay!” Mitchell’s voice distorted with desperation, and he dug his fist into her navel hard, jerking her body back and up. Larissa felt the pressure increase, pushing against what felt like a ball of cement stopping her from breathing.

The ball of food didn’t bulge, and Mitchell yanked again, grunting. “Come on!”

Tears streamed down her cheeks; her nose ran. He thrusted his fist up toward her diaphragm three more times, both of them becoming exponentially more distressed as time passed. Her body rocked with each thrust of his fist, but she still couldn’t breathe. 

Mitchell moved closer behind her, bending her over the table and wrapping his arm across her chest. Then he reached for his phone, sliding it closer. Her eyes blurred with tears, and she briefly clutched at his arm before reaching for her throat.

“I’m calling 9-1-1, Larissa!” He must have put the phone on speaker, because she heard it ringing. Then the heel of his hand came down hard between her shoulder blades.

Flashing lights filled the air. Her hearing cut in and out. Mitchell was talking, but she couldn’t understand him. Her body lurched forward a total of five times before he wrapped his arms around her waist again. 

Darkness was already gathering in the corners of her eyes. Mitchell jerked hard on her abdomen again and again.

Her knees buckled. She felt him fight to keep her upright, heard him shouting in her ear.

Mitchell lowered her to the floor, cupping her skull as he laid her flat. The pressure in her chest and face continued to build as Mitchell’s own terrified face floated above hers.

Love. I love….

A mule kick to the chest, then—Nothing.

Mitchell

“No, no, no, Larissa, stay awake!” Her body sagged limp in his arms. He tried to give her another abdominal thrust, but her weight hung limp, impeding his efforts. 

“I need an ambulance here now!” he shouted toward his phone as he lowered her to the floor. “No, baby, don’t go, please… Shit, not like this…”

He leaned over her, took in her dark, gray-red face, her blueing lips. Her eyes were open, unfocused but moving. They shifted to his face.

“I love you,” he blurted, his hands on her face and tears burning his eyes. Her gaze drifted. Her chest suddenly jerked as though her ICD had shocked her, making her head nod. 

As he watched, the tension eased out of her body. Her eyes closed.

Mitchell sucked in a shocked breath, then turned her face toward the ceiling, tipping her head back. He leaned his ear close to her mouth. A tear ran down to the side of his nose, dripped onto her face. 

“Sir?” The operator called out.

Mitchell opened her mouth, plunging two fingers all the way to the back of her throat. The gesture would have hurt her if she’d been conscious, his hand forcing her jaw wide. He couldn’t feel the obstruction.

“She’s lost consciousness, she isn’t breathing, I can’t feel anything in her mouth…” Dragging in a breath that was almost a sob, Mitchell took his position over her chest, clasping his hands together and starting deep and fast chest compressions. “I’m starting CPR now. One, two, three…”

“The ambulance is two minutes from your location. How will EMS get in?”

“…four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. The doorman will let them up. I will unlock the door… Fuck!” Mitchell stopped compressions, launched himself to his feet and sprinted to the door. He unlocked it and flipped the security latch to keep the door from locking. Then he ran back to Larissa, landing hard on his knees and immediately resuming chest compressions.

“They can get in! One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten! One, two…” There was no quiet huff of air between her lips as he pumped her chest. A few more errant tears ran down her cheeks, dislodged by his thrusts to the lower third of her sternum. Her belly distended. Every second that passed, her skin turned more ashen, her lips purple.

“Sir, go ahead and check her mouth for the obstruction. Chest compressions may dislodge it.”

Mitchell stopped compressions and grasped Larissa’s jaw, looking inside her mouth. He tipped her head back, but he couldn’t see anything. When he started chest compressions again, he noticed that he still couldn’t hear the air being forced from her lungs. “I can’t see it! I think it’s still blocking her airway! One, two, three, four, five, six, seven…”

Oh, God, not like this. This is her worst nightmare! Her life can’t end like this, it can’t, it can’t, it can’t…

Mitchell started to cry as he continued to beat her heart for her. He felt the way her ribcage flexed under his hands, forcing her blood to pump and pressure to hopefully expel the fish she’d inhaled. His tears dripped onto her shirt.

“…nine, ten! One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten! One, two…”

Come back, baby! Come back! We live so fucking close to the hospital; you can’t die in our home like this!

“Sir? Mitchell? The ambulance has arrived.”

“Do you hear that, baby? HANG ON, LARISSA! Cough it up! One, two…”

“They’ve been given access to the cargo elevator. Stay on the line until they are in the condo with you.”

“One, two, three, four, five, six…” He was hurting her now, felt something in the structure of her ribcage give way beneath his hands. “…seven, eight, nine, ten! One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten! One, two…”

He heard the gurney wheels rattle in the hall. 

“…three, four, five—”

“Mitchell Anders?” a woman called out, a knock sounding simultaneously. They pushed the door open before he could respond.

“…two, three, four, five…”

“Sir, Mitchell, we are from Express EMS. Thank you, we can take over now. Can you tell me what happened? I’m Amber.”

Mitchell crawled to the side, then used their dining table to pull himself to his feet. He was sweating and breathing hard as he grabbed his phone. The crew consisted of four paramedics. One stood beside him, tablet in hand. Another unpacked equipment. A third was taking Larissa’s pulse while the fourth assembled an ambu bag and tipped her head back.

“Sir?” The woman standing next to him asked. The medic with the mask squeezed the bulb, readjusted the mask and her airway before trying again.

“Looking for an obstruction,” the man said, opening Larissa’s mouth and reaching toward his airway kit. “Can’t get any air into her.”

“She has no pulse,” the young woman with her fingers pressed to Larissa’s neck and wrist said. “Starting chest compressions.”

“She choked…” Mitchell said, watching as the young woman forced her body weight into Larissa’s sternum. “Larissa… I couldn’t get it out with the Heimlich or back blows. She lost… consciousness, I started CPR…”

“Mitchell, if EMS has arrived, I will disconnect.” 

“They’re here,” he said. He was starting to feel numb. A tall man cut off Larissa’s shirt and bra, working around the young woman as she performed chest compressions. Then he snipped the waistband of her leggings. Larissa’s heavy, natural breasts spilled out when her bra parted, quaking with each forceful thrust. Her stomach rolled in waves of displaced force.

Meanwhile, the medic with the mask had inserted a laryngoscope into Larissa’s throat. 

“We’re going to take good care of your wife, sir. I’m running the scene and I’ll keep you as informed as I can.” Amber moved away from him, crouching next to Larissa. “Patient’s name is Larissa. She choked on food. Her husband performed abdominal thrusts and back blows, and when she lost consciousness, he started chest compressions.”

“I can’t see the object. I’m going to try suction.”

The paramedic who’d cut off Larissa’s clothing applied large white defibrillator pads and connected them to a monitor. Immediately, a loud, bleeping alarm filled the space.

“Patient is asystolic at twelve fifteen PM. Wallace, I want an IV started, fluids and one milligram epinephrine. I’ll get her blood pressure. Wallace and Greg, first person at a stopping point switches with Lola.” 

Mitchell sagged down into one of his dining chairs. Asystolic. Nothing to shock. We’ve been through this enough times to know what that means.

He watched as Greg cut off the end of an endotracheal tube and slid it down the length of the laryngoscope blade. He removed the laryngoscope and set it to the side. “Connecting the aspirator and starting suction.”

A low rumble sound kicked on, underneath the screaming alarm indicating that Larissa’s heart had no electrical activity. Mitchell heard a sucking sound, and then the medic said: “Got it! Partially chewed mass of… fish and rice?”

The offending matter was deposited on the wrapper from the ET kit. The medic quickly extubated her and slid around to the side, his hands slipping into place for Lola. Lola picked up the bag valve mask and pressed it to Larissa’s face, opening her airway and waiting until Greg paused compressions.

She squeezed the bag twice. “She’s getting air now.” Mitchell watched as she picked up a short, curved airway and held it to the side of Larissa’s face.

Greg resumed compressions, forcing Larissa’s breastbone down toward her heart. Lola slid the airway between Larissa’s lips and then turned it one hundred eighty degrees, letting the flange rest on her teeth.

“Get her on oxygen,” Amber said. “We need to get her sat up. Wallace, I want you to push vasopressin now. Rhythm check in thirty seconds, more epinephrine in ninety.” 

Mitchell watched the medics perform two more cycles of CPR before Amber called out: “Pause compressions, rhythm check…”

There was a whoosh as Lola squeezed the bag.

“Still asystolic. That’s two minutes. Check again in two, push a milligram of epi in one. At the next analysis, I want Wallace and Greg to switch positions. Hook that on the back of this chair, Wallace.” Amber rose, taking a saline bag from Wallace and hooking it to the back of another dining chair.

All of the red had drained from Larissa’s skin, leaving behind only blanched white, sickly gray, and ice blue.

“Mitchell,” Amber said. He looked over at her, his mind too blown to respond verbally. “Is there anyone you can call?”

Mitchell blinked, looked over at Larissa. Nothing had changed. She still received hard, deep, fast chest compressions, thirty at a time. The alarm was still sounding its death knell. He looked down at his phone. “Brother…”

“Go ahead and reach out to him, okay? You need somebody.” Then she used a stylus to mark something on the tablet. “Wallace, push that epi. Sixty until analysis.”

Mitchell unlocked his phone screen, opened his messaging app. He had a group chat with Samuel and Mark; he tapped the group, then stared down at his phone for several long, indecisive seconds.

More than seconds; somehow, an entire minute passed. Wallace and Greg were switching positions, and Amber was calling out instructions again. 

“Alright. That’s four minutes confirmed asystole. In two minutes, we will analyze again, Lola and Wallace will switch, and Greg will administer one milligram epi.”

911, Mitchell typed. My condo. Need you.

“One, two, three, four, five…” Wallace’s big gloved hands pumped up and down beneath the weight of his shoulders. The force traveled up Larissa’s neck, down her arms, into her stomach, and along the length of her legs.

In an Uber, redirecting but it’ll take time. I’m coming what’s wrong? From Samuel.

B there n 7, Mark sent.

Mitchell cradled the phone in his hands. 

“Her O2 sat is still too low. Lola, go ahead and intubate.” Lola lifted the mask and pulled the airway out from between Larissa’s teeth.

Driver says be there in 14. Samuel.

A fresh ET kit was opened, and Mitchell looked up from his phone again to watch as Lola slid the laryngoscope blade down Larissa’s throat. An uncut endotracheal tube followed shortly. He watched Amber listen to Larissa’s breath sounds as Lola squeezed the bag, and his heart constricted.

Unbidden, the night she’d given him the stethoscope rose to mind. She’d been pale, still recovering from her seizure and the cut in her arm. But she’d also been so powerful, capturing him with the beat of her heart.

A heart that had stopped beating and might never beat again.

The medic secured the tube with tape and fastened a c-collar around Larissa’s neck. She connected the oxygen, then started squeezing the bag continuously.

“Alright. Analysis in three, two, pause compressions.” Even Mitchell could see the fuzzy straight line that appeared across the monitor when compressions were halted. “Six minutes asystolic. Lola and Wallace switch; Greg get me that epi. Lola, I’m going to start the metronome.”

Amber pressed a button and silenced the warbling alarm. Then she pressed another, and a regular beeping started, marking the correct pace of compressions.

“Mitchell?” she asked. “Any luck?”

“They’re coming,” he forced out. He felt heavy, as though he were holding back the inevitable tsunami of grief.

“Wallace, slow down ventilations, we don’t want to hyperventilate her.” She looked at the monitor. “Oxygen saturation is improving.”

Mitchell looked at Larissa, scanning her body for any changes. He couldn’t see any improvement with his eyes. She just laid there, for all intents and purposes gone, while the medics pumped her heart and forced air into her lungs. 

Can you tell us anything? Samuel again. Worried for you, bud. Is Larissa okay?

No, he thought. I think she might be dead. This feels even worse this time.

He couldn’t make himself type that out, so he sent: She’s not OK.

“Thirty seconds until analysis. Greg and Lola will switch. Ninety seconds to the next dose of epinephrine. Blood pressure is ninety over sixty. O2 at ninety and rising. Analysis in three, two, one. Pause compressions.” The alarm unmuted itself. “Eight minutes asystolic. Good switch, Greg and Lola. Lola, epi in one minute.”

Greg kneeled next to Larissa, one knee on the floor, one knee planted by her head. He hammered into her mercilessly. Even with Greg’s hands there, Mitchell could see the redness and bruising spreading between her breasts.

Amber pressed her fingers to Larissa’s femoral pulse point. “Good pulse with compressions. Next analysis I want Wallace and Greg to switch. Wallace, slow down that pace, you’re still ventilating too fast.”

4 minutes! Mark.

“Administering epinephrine,” Lola said, and Amber made a note with her stylus.

“Sixty seconds until the next analysis.”

The old, familiar headache sank its claws into Mitchell’s skull. He sat his phone on the table and reached up to rub his temples. 

Breathe, honey. Larissa’s voice, a memory. A cruel trick.

Still, he made himself take a few deep breaths, letting them out slowly.

“Pause compressions. Okay, that’s ten minutes asystolic. Confirm with a pulse check and then Wallace and Greg will switch. At the next analysis, I want Wallace and Lola to switch.”

Mitchell scooped up his phone, unlocked it decisively, and typed out: I think she might be dead. I just needed someone to know.

Seconds later, Samuel sent: Can I call you?

“No pulse, resume compressions.”

No, I’m in here with the paramedics.

Mark will be there soon, buddy.

She doesn’t have a heart rhythm at all. They can’t shock her. She’s been like that since they got here. A fresh wave of tears spilled down Mitchell’s cheeks. She choked. I tried to help her.

Just breathe, please.

More than 10 minutes

I’m in the elevator. That was from Mark.

Door’s open

Mitchell could hear a huffing noise now with each compression. Useless proof of her cleared airway.

“Suctioning,” he heard Greg say, before the machine kicked on with a low rumble and a slurping sound.

“Analysis in thirty seconds.”

The door swung open. Mitchell looked up, saw Mark’s eyes land on Larissa sprawled half-naked on the floor. He could almost see the scene through Mark’s eyes: Larissa, skin milk white. Hair tangled under her body. Chest bruised. Hooked up to a monitor and an IV. Her breasts wobbling and stomach rippling each time Wallace’s hands forced her sternum down and let it recoil.

“Pause compressions… Still asystolic. That’s twelve minutes. Lola, you’re on her chest. I’ll administer the epinephrine, Wallace, you take a minute to breathe.”

Mark looked from Larissa to the scattered equipment to the half-eaten takeout to Mitchell, and then he hurried around the paramedics to Mitchell’s side. He dragged a chair next to the one Mitchell was in and sat down heavily.

“Mitchell, what…”

“I tried, Mark. I tried. I tried…” Mitchell’s entire body began to shake.

“I know you did, I know…” Mark grabbed Mitchell by the shoulders and pulled him in for a hug. 

Mitchell let him, shuddering in the other man’s embrace for a full two minutes until he heard Amber say: “Pause compressions. Pulse check.”

“No pulse,” Wallace said.

“Fourteen minutes asystolic. In two minutes, we go again, only Greg and Lola will switch.

“How long will they try?” Mark whispered.

“I don’t know.” Mitchell felt his watch buzz, glanced down. 

Is Mark there? I’ll be there in 7.

He found his phone again, typed out: Yes

When he set his phone down on the table, he spotted one of Larissa’s bracelets close by. Made of clear acrylic, it was filled with an assortment of dried flowers suspended in the middle. He picked it up, ran his fingers over the smooth, cool material.

“Come on, Larissa,” he heard Mark whisper.

“I can’t…” Mitchell gripped the bracelet hard. “Not like this, Mark. She was so scared…”

Mark wiped his eyes, nodded.

Sitting in the chair made Mitchell feel like he was participating in some kind of macabre resuscitation performance, with his beloved as the subject. But he felt unwell enough that he was afraid to get up. He didn’t want to also become a patient and distract them from Larissa.

So he continued to watch, and time passed. They hit sixteen minutes with Larissa’s heart not even trying to beat. Then eighteen.

“Lola, now you’re hyperventilating her. Everyone… it’s the tenth compression, on the recoil. You’re going almost twice as fast.” 

Mitchell watched Greg the medic’s shoulders bob up and down. If he concentrated, he could avoid looking at Greg’s hands, which meant looking at the way they compressed her chest, forcing her ribcage down and her stomach up. 

He wasn’t concentrating.

“Analysis in thirty seconds. Wallace, you’ll switch with Greg. Keep up compressions until then.”

Mark reached over and took Mitchell’s hand. “That last text, I don’t think you saw it. Samuel will be here in three minutes.”

“Alright, on this analysis I want a full ten seconds of pulse check, all three of you. I’ll be watching the monitor. Analysis in three, two, one…”

Everything stopped. Amber watched the monitor, while the other three pressed their fingers into Larissa’s neck, wrist, and groin. Mitchell stared at her face. Slack, lips open, tube protruding from between her teeth. Her eyelids shuttered.

The ten seconds crawled by.

“Alright. Asystole for twenty minutes. Wallace on compressions. Continue compressions and respirations until I give further instructions. Greg, get her pressure for me.” Amber stood, shook out her legs, and walked over to Mitchell. He watched her carefully pick up the chair with the IV bag attached and move it in front of him. 

The pit of his stomach seemed far, far away as his heart sank.

When she sat, Mitchell said: “I don’t want to hear what you’re about to tell me.” Mark squeezed his hand.

“Mitchell, we have been monitoring Larissa for twenty minutes. During this time, she has had no measurable heart rhythm.”

“You’re going to call time of death.” He tried not to make it sound like an accusation, but it came out like that anyway. “You’re going to tell me my wife is dead.”

“Paramedics can’t call time of death in this state,” she said. Her voice was gentle. “What I do is call our physician and explain the situation, as well as all lifesaving procedures we have tried. The physician then makes the decision. In this case, the decision would be made based on the lack of electrical activity for over twenty minutes. This is standard procedure based on likelihood of recovery.”

She swallowed hard, glanced down at the floor for a few seconds before looking Mitchell in the eyes. “I believe that he will pronounce her dead. I’m so sorry.”

Mark made a noise, his grip on Mitchell’s hand like a vice. Mitchell, on the other hand, went completely cold and still.

“After time of death is called, we will stop all life-saving maneuvers. The law mandates that we monitor her for ten minutes to be absolutely certain there are no signs of life. Then we will extubate her, remove her from the monitor, and disconnect the IV. You will be able to spend time with Larissa before we transport her.”

“She’s been resuscitated for longer before,” Mark protested. “Shit, they both have.”

The paramedic blinked at him, but she recovered quickly. “In this case it is solely because she has not had any electrical heart rhythm for over twenty minutes.”

“I understand.” Mitchell forced the words out from between numb lips.

“What is her full name, sir?”

“Larissa Marie Anders-Colton.”

“Thank you, Mitchell.”

The door opened again, and the paramedic got up from the chair, pulling her phone from her pocket as she kneeled beside Larissa. Mitchell thought it was strange, watching the other medics continue CPR as though nothing had changed, even though he knew at this point they were just satisfying procedures.

Then Samuel was with them, too loud as he asked: “What’s going on? Mark?”

“They’re calling a doctor.” Mark swallowed hard, trying to hold back tears. “The doctor is going to pronounce Larissa dead.”

Samuel sat down heavily in the chair the paramedic abandoned. Behind him, Amber silenced the alarm.

“This is paramedic Amber Choi with Express, unit eleven A, badge number one-one-five.”

The phone wasn’t on speaker, but the volume was loud enough that Mitchell heard the response: “This is Doctor Frank Smith… Okay, I found your credentials. What do you have for me?”

“Female patient, Larissa Anders-Colton, choked on food. Husband performed abdominal thrusts and back blows, but the patient lost consciousness. He was performing CPR when we arrived. We were able to remove the obstruction, but she has been asystolic since we hooked her to the monitor. That was… almost twenty-six minutes ago.”

“Okay. Confirming there has been no pulse or measurable heart rhythm since you arrived, for more than twenty minutes.”

“That’s confirmed, doctor.”

Several seconds of silence passed, then Mitchell heard: “Time of death, twelve forty-two PM.”

That was that. Larissa’s bracelet slipped from his fingers.

Mitchell didn’t hear anything else. Or see anything else. His vision went white, and there was a great roaring in his ears.

He didn’t think he completely lost consciousness. He was aware of his body in the white space; felt himself go limp and tip forward. Mark and Samuel caught him, lowered him to the floor. He felt someone open his airway, fingers press into his neck. 

Sound began to come back. He heard the chairs being dragged away. Someone raised his feet, squeezed his hand.

“Mitchell.” Mark. He was crying, Mitchell could hear it.

“Buddy, hey, wake up. I’m so sorry, but you’re scaring me…” Samuel.

“Yes, doctor. Looks like the husband fainted. He is breathing and has a pulse. Everything is safe here, thank you.” That was Amber. Talking to the doctor. The one who confirmed that Larissa was gone.

Mitchell opened his eyes, but he couldn’t see. His vision was immediately awash with tears. 

“There he is!” Samuel leaned over him. “God, Mitchell. Just breathe. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Mitchell blinked away the tears, turned his face toward Larissa. She was still now. No one was breathing for her. No hands forced her heart to beat. Greg removed the blood pressure cuff from her arm and took a few steps toward Mitchell.

“Don’t touch me!” The words ripped out of Mitchell before he even knew he was thinking them. He pushed himself up in a seated position, ripping his hand out of Mark’s. “I don’t want anyone to touch me!”

A lock of Larissa’s hair curled over her naked shoulder, coiling in front of the cardiac monitor. He found himself staring at it. Above the strand of hair was a screen of ugly, horizontal lines.

He couldn’t think. His mind felt simultaneously overwhelmed and empty. Someone was talking to him, probably Mark or Samuel, but he couldn’t process the sounds as words.

“Don’t touch me,” he said again. His breath was coming hard and fast now, and he felt his hands and lips tingle. “Don’t touch me.”

He watched the monitor, those ugly lines. One moved, forming a bump, a spike, a bump. A line. A bump, a spike, a bump. A line. A bump, a spike, a bump. The bumps and spikes had a calming effect. Each time one popped up, the pain in his chest eased. His breath slowed.

A bump, a spike, a bump.

There was quiet chatter around him now. He began to pick up individual words. Samuel and Mark were trying to figure out what to do for him.

A bump, a spike, a bump.

“Larissa has a heartbeat,” Mitchell said. His voice sounded… not flat. Numb, with a hint of shock. He’d surprised himself by speaking.

The room fell silent. The lead, who’d been doing paperwork while the others cleaned up and packed, looked at the monitor.

She stared, then reached forward, pressing her fingers hard into Larissa’s throat. “Sinus… sinus rhythm on the monitor.”

“What?” Lola asked.

“She has a pulse! Greg, bag her, every five seconds. Lola, I want her blood pressure, now! Larissa, if you can hear us, you are at home and we are paramedics…”

“Do we have a Lazarus?” Wallace asked, stunned, only to be shushed by Amber.

Mitchell let out his held breath. The repressed agony and grief oozed out of him, taking with it his energy. He slouched, felt someone grab his upper arm hard.

“I’m not going to let you fall over again,” Mark said, his voice hoarse.

“Her blood pressure is sixty over forty. O2 at eighty.”

“That’s because we weren’t ventilating her. Keep going. Wallace, I want a norepinephrine infusion. I have the dosage here if you need it.” She was on her phone again. “Uh… Doctor Smith? This is Amber Choi again, um… Sorry, badge one-one-five. I… the patient I just called about, Larissa Anders? Yes, Anders-Colton. We have return of spontaneous circulation.”

Mitchell, the next day

She looked like she was sleeping, or she would if she normally slept on a ventilator, hooked to a cardiac monitor, with an IV in her arm and a catheter draining her urine into a bag.

Not sleeping.

But her eyes looked it. It was the way her eyelids laid, he thought. Nothing like death.

He would know.

Mitchell held her hand. She was cold to the touch. They’d stopped cold therapy an hour ago, but her temperature wasn’t yet back to normal. 

The ventilator clicked and whooshed regularly, lifting her chest in an artificial rhythm.

It’s too soon to know anything, Mr. Anders. So they said, over and over again.

Mitchell gripped her hand tighter and scooted the chair closer to her hospital bed. At that distance, he could lean his head on her arm. 

He hadn’t slept much since they’d arrived. Maybe an hour.

But perhaps they could sleep together.

Mitchell closed his eyes.

--

The Lazarus Effect

The story continues in Drowning.

[artsolarsash]

Man, it’s been 5 years since I created this account and started my journey. I had no idea that one day, I would create so many drawings, especially my ocs from every fandom (rotmnt, fnaf cowboy au, fnaf fairy au by @ayyy-imma-ninja, stellar city/cyber crew by @8um8le or @cyber-crew, and others. Yesterday I created from Orange Knife Universe by @oobbbear which it’s Siamese twins witches. To be honest, lately, I was drawing very slowly and didn’t post in time. I have a life in the university, a social life with my friends and family, and assignments with final exams of midterm.

In addition, I want to apologize to everyone for being dramatic, saying to leave the Tumbler community, etc. The reason is that I have a creative crisis and I have low confidence in being the artist. On YouTube, I always heard that people from different internet communities are very toxic and can destroy any artist in any way. At this time I thought that my OCs were just soulless blankets without story and personality. Just stereotypical characters. Your OCs are amazing, they feel alive and this is awesome, unlike mine. Don’t get me wrong, I love my characters, but all the stories that I made are inside of my head and I don’t know how to draw them on paper. This time I’m starting to think, what if people will not like it, so I just leave it behind, stop creating them, and move out, because I think they’ll be a third wheel. I feel like just a double-faced idiot and liar, who cannot create anything interesting.

I think nobody will read it, but this is my apology and confession.

[in---absentia]

Video Girl | 5 | Erwin Smith

Summary: Despite your best efforts, a year after getting your Masters you are still struggling to get hired within your dream industry. But bills don’t pay themselves and groceries don’t magically show up on your door step, so you turn to the internet for your main source of income.

Erwin, a Director at a cyber security company constantly stressed and hitting a point of loneliness he hadn’t previously thought possible turns to the internet to fill that void and finds comfort in the most unexpected place.

Author’s Note: Lol I’m back. I had to finish this and post it to once again get to the fun stuff, but I hope you enjoy this bit! Look forward to more of the Commander and Metis in 2023!!

Words: 3.1k

Tag: Modern AU. Office AU. Cis-Fem Reader. Tall-Coded Reader. Athletic-Coded Reader. Sex Work. MDNI. 18+ Only

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter 

Keith Shadis was a man of grand importance. 

After years of diligent work he had been promoted to the role of Vice President of one of the most core divisions at Survey Corp. During his tenure he was responsible for recruiting people he believed to be “special” like him and lead them to prosperity along with implementing tried and true processes and systems that allowed the company to steadily grow. 

Survey Corps would have been nothing without him. 

He was also the only one who felt that way nowadays. 

For most others he was a man who had gained his role by proximity rather than skill, another cog in the machine who had been there long enough that there was nowhere else to go but up despite others around being better for the role. His hires hadn’t all been scouted by him personally, all joining the company for their mission and what the work was rather than being able to work for him and the previously mentioned processes he had put in place were now outdated and actively putting the company at a disadvantage for their lack of innovation. 

No one voiced this to him though, these thoughts remained whispers in the break rooms and in group texts outside of office hours. 

The only person who ever seemed to push back against Keith was Erwin, the classically perfect hire he brought on years ago when he was just a senior manager who immediately had gone and challenged the status quo. While Keith was content in his ways, satisfied with the steady gains quarter over quarter, Erwin wanted to implement all new strategies and when given the task of going out and “testing” his ideas and theories he always rose to the occasion. It was frustrating to see that any task thrown his way was conquered so thoroughly, Keith was a man who believed that he was the best while Erwin just simply proved that he was time and time again. 

Even with their very different opinions on how to run the organization there was a great deal of respect between the two. Erwin wasn’t a man to jump into anything without putting a large amount of thought into it and so he knew the ideas he came to him with were never half baked, all angles reviewed and ready to be challenged. 

So when Erwin had come to him and asked him for his explicit permission to hire an actual criminal he was stunned. 

“You have to be joking,” he had stated as he grabbed at the resume that Erwin had pushed across the desk to him scanning it as he barely listened to Erwin launch into one of his well prepared speeches. “Shush,” he said as he waved a hand and grabbed the print outs that he had also stacked up on the desk, flipping through various different papers the candidate had written along with a few articles about the case from different news sources. 

Erwin sat there deathly silent, posture strict and gaze unwavering as he watched Keith review the documentation. After a few moments he tried testing the waters again.

“She isn’t a convicted criminal, all charges were dropped against her. If it were not for that you wouldn’t bat a single eye at me approving this hire.”

“Erwin, she wasn’t arrested for something like a public disturbance, she hacked into a major corporation and successfully stole PII.”

“She wasn’t aware of it,” Erwin contested, holding strong against one of Keith’s well known glares. “She was just in college when it happened and from the information Hange was able to find online about the trial she was fully cooperative like she stated.”

“So she blindly goes along with whatever is put in front of her?”

“That’s unfair, she truly believed that everything she was doing was legal as all activities before had been.”

Keith wasn’t convinced, no way in hell. He had spent most of his career creating a culture of exceptionalism- those in his organization were truly unique and special and Erwin just coming in with this suggestion threatened to ruin it all. Standing up from his desk Keith turned away from him and looked out the window, nothing but a simple “This conversation is done” falling from his lips to signal that he would not discuss it further.

Erwin remained firmly in his seat though. 

“It’s not.”

“Are you going against me? Your superior?”

“If you do not allow me to hire her you are making a grave mistake. Hange finds that her experiences across the board will assist in their work, Levi has stated that he sees a fair amount of potential if given the right tools, and I know that Survey Corps will flourish with her on our team.”

Erwin was now standing up and moving towards Keith, the two of them staring intensely at the other waiting for one to break and give in. 

Keith was the one to lose. 

“Fine! Hire her, but don’t come begging me to open up a new job posting when she proves to be a poor choice!” He said as he waved Erwin away, moving back to his desk and dropping the papers in the waste bin next to him. 

Erwin simply broke out into an easy smile and nodded at him, “I won’t be coming to you, she is the right fit. But thank you, Keith.”

When you had received an email from Petra that night offering you the job you dropped the glass you had in your hand and stood there frozen as it shattered on the ground around you. All of your hard work, all of your drive and determination had not been for nothing. The world felt like it had come to a complete standstill as you stood there, wide mouthed and stunned. 

You would prove yourself worthy of the position, you would do everything in your power to ensure that you were the perfect hire and that no one ever doubted Hange and, most importantly, Erwin for choosing you. 

You repeated that mantra over and over in your head as you responded as professionally as you could that you would be more than happy to accept. 

A month and a half later you were doing a damn good job of keeping that promise. 

Three weeks into the job, you were past the mandatory orientations and tech set ups and icebreakers in team meetings and were starting to be brought up to speed on the upcoming work for the fiscal year. Hange had a laundry list of things they wanted to explore: machine learning, penetration testing, in-house hackers turned consultants, big data, the list went on and on meaning you never had a dull moment in the office. 

The work was exciting and new and invigorating but you were still just getting brought up to speed and hadn’t been assigned to anything formally yet. From what others had told you you were backfilling for a man named Moblit who had been Hange’s right hand man but had left unexpectedly several months back and you knew that you had a huge pair of shoes to fit to eventually get on the level of the man other’s called the only one able to keep Hange in check. 

Seated at your desk and reading through a case study that Levi had sent you, you were unaware of the stares coming your way from across the room.

Hange, for all their posturing about being single minded with no regard for others, was actually incredibly perceptive. They had to be for this job, it was imperative to the success of their work that they be able to look at things both at the most detailed view and one from forty thousand feet above. They also had to be as a manager, there was no way for them to be a successful one if they didn’t keep a pulse on the team at all times and know what was going on with who. It might take them a few days to get to that point, but they usually always came to a solid conclusion. 

So when Erwin started asking about how the new hire had been doing they immediately took notice. 

It wasn’t unusual for him to do so, he was always working to make sure his team was filled with the brightest minds and the most dedicated of persons. He was swift in his judgement, quick to determine if a person had long term potential or if they were to be one of his infamous “less than a year fires”, but he usually did so from a distance. 

And he never made a point of coming around them as often as he was doing. 

His office was his sanctuary, it helped him keep a professional distance and allow people to work without the pressure of him loitering nearby. Hange was used to having to knock on the door for an impromptu chat or more likely having to go through the man’s outrageously packed calendar trying to find a fifteen minute slot for a talk, but for the past three weeks he had stopped by their desk now six times, always with one question on his lips after getting through the usual pleasantries. 

“So, how is she doing this week?”

“Erwin, I’m busy, you can ask her herself,” Hange whispered back, glancing over to make sure that you couldn’t hear what they were discussing. 

Erwin’s eyes quickly flashed that way before snapping back to Hange’s, another thing that threw them off. He usually would stare long and hard at someone, his gaze never wavering as he took them in. 

That was the second strike. 

“She needs to ramp up, and having me interject would only throw her off her rhythm,” he insisted and that was the third and final strike for Hange who quickly glanced at the time on their desktop and sighed deeply before standing up and throwing their arms up in the air. Most of their team was used to this and continued working completely unfazed by the action, but they saw your head turn their way, still unused to the random actions of your coworker. 

“Team lunch!” They declared before pointing at Erwin, “And the big boss will be joining us!”

Erwin looked up at them with wide eyes and it took all it could for Hange to not stick their tongue out at him so they threw him a smirk instead. 

“Hange, I can’t,” he whispered but Hange was already grabbing their wallet and walking towards the cluster of desks where the rest of the team sat. 

“Too bad, you can’t back out now or people will gossip about it and we can’t have that,” they thew back before shrugging their shoulders. “I’ll buy your lunch in return.”

Erwin’s eyes glanced towards you and he saw you shifting through your backpack before you pulled out a lunchbox and he quirked his brow. With a decent cafeteria in their building it was honestly a little odd to see someone bring their food but he shrugged it off and stood up, trailing behind Hange. 

“I’m going to heat this up but I’ll meet you downstairs, if I get there early enough I’ll grab a table,” you politely offered and your teammates thanked you before heading towards the elevator. 

Cramming in to the elevator Erwin caught one last look at you as you walked towards the break room and Hange spoke up from seemingly nowhere. 

“She always brings her own lunch. Something about trying to eat healthy or something,” they said as the door shut closed, leaving him to ponder if the meals were really that unhealthy at the office. 

After grabbing their meals they made their way over to the tables and Erwin glanced around before his eyes landed on you. You smiled and rose a hand, the others noticing and walking your way. Nudging him in the side, Hange directed Erwin to take the seat across from you and so he did, not before throwing a quick admonishing glance their way. 

This was when Hange stuck their tongue out in a taunting manner, sitting down at the opposite end of the table and turning to Ilse before launching into some story about an old research project. 

Erwin looked back to you and gave a small smile as he arranged his tray and placed a napkin on his lap, glancing at your meal before launching into conversation. 

“You bring in your own meals often?”

You looked back down at your homemade noodle soup that you prepped, nodding as you fiddled with the chopsticks in your hands, “Oh, yes, most days! I tend to meal prep, cheaper, know what I’m eating, all that.” You trailed off at the end, trying to hide how uneasy you were with this line of questioning. 

He didn’t have to know that 95% of the reason was to save money. 

“That’s really admirable, I know that if the cafeteria wasn’t here I’d be going out nearly every day for lunch. Not really great at meal prepping for one,” he laughed as he cut into his chicken and took a bite, causing you to smile. 

All your brain picked up was that he was single, or at least didn’t have a live-in partner, but you carried on easily. “I totally get it, making the same meal for a week straight can be so annoying especially when some days you just want to eat anything but the food you have. But I try to power through it, or do something to switch it up, like different seasonings and what not.”

Erwin glanced over to Hange, a barely noticeable smug look on his face as if to say “Hah, look at me, holding a conversation,” but the grimace that Hange was giving him in return screamed “I orchestrated this so you could talk about her lunch?”

They were right, he’d have to pivot.

“So,” he said, straightening his posture, “How have the past few weeks been?”

You brightened up at that and he thanked Hange internally for the less than subtle push. You slowly released the tension in your shoulders and smiled as you began to talk about all you had been doing, giving him one of the most cheerful progress reports he had heard in awhile. 

It was refreshing, and he wanted to transition to things outside of work, wanted to ask you what your plans for the upcoming weekend were but another team member broke in and started to tell him about their week without being directly asked. 

Erwin had turned to them a little stunned, but politely nodded at Armin and asked him to repeat what he had said as the younger blonde launched into an update. In that moment he hated being the boss, wished that people weren’t always clamoring for his attention and recognition and simply wanted to keep talking to you. Glancing back to you briefly, he imagined for a second that your expression had turned bemused as your gaze glanced just as quickly to and away from him.

He quickly scolded himself for such wishful thinking. 

Hours later you stepped off of the bus and into your building, making your way to the mail room and laughing to yourself for maybe the hundredth time about Armin jumping in at lunch. You weren’t going to lie, when Erwin had sat down across from you your heart had nearly jumped out of your chest. You had thought it strange when Hange had called for a team lunch that afternoon but upon seeing him you tossed aside any uncertainty about the idea.

It made you feel special, having him sit across from you and ask you about how your onboarding had been going, Ymir knew you could use the confidence boost. But of course the others on the team would be just as excited to talk to him as you were and of course Armin, who meant nothing at all, was the one to jump in and try to get some one on one time with him as well. 

He just had to be so damn blatant with it. 

Laughing once more, you scanned through your mail before your eyes landed on a single solid envelope with an all too familiar logo in the corner with the return address and you froze, immediately tossing back the random coupons and junk mail back in the box. Ripping it open, your jaw tightened as you read through the letter, eyes hardening as you flipped to the piece of paper behind it and let out a long, exhausted inhale. 

Another day, another invoice, but this time there was a new, not-so-subtle note from your lawyer that you should potentially look into getting a financial planner to help make sure that you were on track to maybe eventually one day pay off your debts. He was a hard ass, and not the most tact or empathetic with his messaging, but you knew he came from a well researched and thought out point of view. 

Maybe once your stocks from Survey Corp vested over two years you would look into that. Now you couldn’t even think of taking on such an expense with everything going on along with the threat of your rent potentially increasing in a couple of months. 

Entering your apartment you tossed the bill onto your ever growing “bill” pile and immediately started working on your nightly transformation into Metis. The pile loomed in the corner of your mind and the numbers for the upcoming payment you owed started to tally up and before you knew it you were a panicked mess, absolutely crippled by the daunting figure. 

Even with the job you still needed to come across a large sum of cash, quick. 

An idea popped into your mind right before you went live, and the smile was evident in your voice as you started off the show. 

“Hi everyone, before we get started tonight, I want to let you know about a special limited-time offer for a series of private shows. Pricing can be found on the link I just dropped in the chat, but if you have any interest please send me a DM as quick as a you can. I’m sure you all know that my one on one shows are rare and go really quick.”

Beast immediately sent a DM, one followed from Tatakae quickly, but the smile grew on your face when you saw an inquiry come in from your newest customer. 

You definitely would make sure that one of those places went to the Commander, that was certain. 

[ceejaykayess]

The long awaited sequel! Super-cute Cyber-girl AI-Ball Ene, at your service! I kid, I kid, I know no one saw the last post, because it didn’t get posted under the tag for some reason… ah well, second try’s the charm.

After hearing that next year’s Dazecon would be our last, it sorta kicked my ass into gear to get some more of these Kagepro ideas off my chest and onto paper. So, Ene, our deuteragonist to our beloved protagonist (derogatory).

I had a lot of thoughts ever since the first picture on how I wanted to draw Ene’s cyber form. Given Aiba and Tama’s designs, we have something of a base to work off of, but we need at least one more game for me to confidently declare what is and isn’t a pattern. What we can easily tell, at least, is that AI-Balls have white hair and and dress in mostly black and white. And while Ene does do the latter, she… doesn’t do the former. Why? Well… maybe you can figure it out?

But in terms of her design, while I mostly stick to her regular design, the things I want to point out (because it might not be super obvious with my image quality) are the glowing strands in her hair, a blue one in her fringe, a red one in her left pigtail, and a white one in her left. I suppose you could call them remnants of what should have been… I also want to point out her outfit- it’s skin-tight from the neck to the waist, the skirt being a part of the bodysuit. The sleeves are, almost ironically, like Miku’s in that they’re detachable. And the most AI-Ball feature to her are the tech veins that compose her legs, as opposed to generally lacking them as in most Kagepro material.

I made Ene’s gel form a rabbit, in consideration of those mini-sketch comics I read yonks ago that drew Ene’s pigtails as being like hands for her since hers are in her sleeves always. Also, I thought it’d be funny if the first time Shintarou saw it, he’d consider renaming her to Tono in honour of his rabbit.

In case it’s hard to read, the shocked Ene in the top right is saying, “Master! MASTER! Oh no, he can’t hear me, he’s wearing his Raycon:tm: Earbuds, supremely comfortable for all your needs-” The little sketch in the bottom right, of Shintaro face down in bed and Ene in rabbit mode on his bedside table, reads, “Get the fuck up Master, we’re goin’ to the amusement park today!” “Ene, I’m dying…”

Here's a link to the first picture of Shintaro that never posted properly. And here's a link to the follow-up Yaki picture.

How long had she been wandering? She wasn’t really sure. Sure, if she looked at a calendar, or even just the UI on near anyone’s digital device, she’d see that it had been a year, more even. But that wasn’t really what she meant.

When she first opened her eyes, she had a purpose. She wasn’t wandering- she was seeking. She wasn’t on a Journey, she was on a Quest. She had to find them, had to know what happened to them, because if she were here, like this, then the others, then he had to be-

But though she had a Quest, she had to figure it out, her newfound capabilities, how to parse the sheer amount of information that tried to force its way around her, through her, tried to twist the information that made up herself-

And by the time she had come to a balance with her newfound self, body made of numbers and pixels instead of blood vessels and organ systems, what she had been seeking had become old news, hearsay that was washed under the waves of time and new information and new tragedies and new things for people to talk about. The longer it took, the deeper the information was buried, and the deeper it was buried, the longer it would take for her to come and go.

But eventually, after months and months, 8 months and 17 days and 9 hours and 21 minutes and 2 seconds, 3 seconds, 4 seconds, she had bounced from Wiki article to Wiki article, dug through news archives, dragged herself through Towitter discussions and arguments dated around that August 15th, and a bit after, she had learned and pieced together thus: Three people were marked as dead. 14 people were injured, 9 of which being detained as members of the syndicate that caused the explosion. There was no mention of who died, or even of the state their bodies were in. There was no specific mention of their fourth, her annoying kouhai who was so bitter, who brought everyone down despite his brilliance, who everyone loved despite his acidic tongue and obvious disdain, who she hated because of how much it felt like she were looking at a mirror, her kouhai who was lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood, surrounded by rubble and mumbling things she could barely understand being in such a terrible state herself-

She felt herself lose it, the desperate, fickle hope she held in her oversized jumper, because what does it matter? For all intents and purposes, she was dead. As far as she was aware, as far as anyone was aware, her best friend was, too. Maybe even her kouhai. And her-

And-

That kind boy, the one that irritated her so, the one that she wanted to see every day, the one that made her feel this terrible, terrible way, he too is-

Gone. They’re all gone. So what’s the point? Her Quest was over. And she couldn’t even delete herself, backspace over the 1′s and 0′s that composed her new existence. She was too much of a coward to throw herself at a virus and let it have its way with her. She could just stay here until eventually this webpage rotted away, but the longer she stayed in proximity to this information, to this reminder, the more she felt like she needed to expel the non-existent contents of her non-existent stomach. So she ran. She left. She tried to separate herself from her name, from the life that could no longer be hers, that simply was no longer.

She wandered.

How long had she been wandering?

…

Long enough that she felt nostalgic, at least. Long enough that she’s actually contemplating her current course of action, long enough that she’s following through on that course even as she contemplates the wisdom.

Her current location, digitally, was in the mainframe of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department. Her destination was downstairs, 5 floors underground in fact. The Advanced Brain Investigation Squad. Her… former squad, to put it a way. She followed along the flow of data from the routers to the elevator, holding and holding and holding on to the connection as she sunk deeper and deeper and deeper until she felt like she might actually suffocate despite not needing air, before feeling the next router and leaping for it, bringing her all the way down to the abyss.

Taking in deep gasping breaths of nothing that still let her feel like a human, she looked around. The ABIS mainframe wasn’t anything special. Tunnelled far as hell away from anything else, sure, but nothing special. So much for the stupid old man and his so-called “professional coding skills”. Feh. She’s seen message boards with more interesting encryption.

Despite her trash-talking, she still looked around curious as she wandered deeper. Jumping from computer to computer, camera to camera, she saw how much the place had changed in the last year. Or rather, how little it didn’t. It was like she had never left. Eventually she came across a concrete room with a familiar sense of decoration that made her want to spit and laugh and scream and cry-

Which was immediately blown away when she looked down on the room’s occupants. There was, of course, the room’s owner and decorator, with his scruffy brown hair pulled into a messy ponytail, holding his iconic lab coat rather than wearing it, glasses askew and face looking as if he hadn’t slept or washed his face for days. His cybernetic eye, pupil the same as his remaining brown one, stared deep into the eyes of the person that had her stopping short, looking again, re-evaluating and readjusting, checking the feed and the system and refreshing everything, video and audio, again and again, just to make sure she wasn’t being deceived, that the person she was seeing was really who she thought he was.

“-is that understood, Shintaro?” “…I understand, old man.”

His voice was somehow more unbearable than usual, his face lacking its usual stern and uncaring look. It was loose, and flabby. Like he didn’t even care enough to pretend to not care. Instead of the red coat her best friend was so fond of, or even the black suit he was partial to, he stood in just a white shirt, arms bare. He was missing an eye, a scar covering the eyelid, one that made her think of a boy reluctantly in red, facedown in a puddle of the colour.

“Oi, I told you already, call me Boss, y’got it brat!?” “Mm.”

Barely acknowledging him, he turned away, making his way out of Boss’ Office, as the namesake would have you call it. Without thinking, she began to follow after him, but was stopped when she heard the old goat mutter something.

“Give me strength, Ayaka…”

Whispering the pained prayer, the man she always thought of as an unreliable lout that only ever got moving when he was being put under threat stood, donning his lab coat and fixing his glasses. Reaching into it, he withdrew a small sphere, chockful of electronic components- very similar to the one in his own eye, actually… or rather, based on it. He gave it a long look, and so did she. What was he planning…? Her musing was broken by his clenching of his fist and replacing the orb, muttering tomorrow as he moved out of the room- down the hallway and towards his lab. The opposite direction of Shintaro.

Shintaro.

Almost without thinking, she turned around, searching for the apathetic genius, that damn ikemen that couldn’t take a hint for the life of him. The hallway was lonely, and he was never very fast, so she caught him easily halfway towards the elevator. She hesitated. She had already seen more than she expected, more than she even wanted. She had expected the old man. Hell, maybe some part of her even expected to see reference to the others, pictures maybe. She hadn’t even gotten to look at their old workplaces, at her old work bench where she fiddled with her Evolver- she didn’t even know if her Evolver was still around.

But she hadn’t expected a man, no, a brat she thought was dead to be walking around with the living. She shouldn’t follow him. She wanted to check on her Evolver, see if Mr. Tateyama had improved on anything in the last year, see if the three of them are still remembered. She doesn’t even like Shintaro that much anyways, if he knew she was spying on him he’d just scold and scream at her like the ungrateful punk he is-

But even so, she follows him anyways. Jumps to the data in his phone, barren and new, clenched in his hand. She’s only doing this because the other two would have wanted her to. Not because she wants to.

And so, she watches as he rides the elevator, not once glancing at his phone. She watches as he hails a cab and asks for an address that, after a quick search, she finds is set in Tokyo, not Chiba. She watches as he sits silently through the whole ride, rudely ignoring his chauffeur’s attempts at conversation and instead looks with almost a sad look at the cityscape passing him by. She watches as he pays the driver, walks up to the rundown looking building, sighs, and opens the door. She watches as he nods at the tired 30-something reclining against a couch in the foyer, walking up the stairs until he comes up to a door. And she watches as he silently pulls out a key, opens the door, and skulks to his room. She can’t see anything else out of the narrow view the phone’s camera offers her, but it looks like he’s trying to be quiet. Could there… be someone else here?

And eventually, he enters a dark room. He makes for the bed in the corner, planting himself on the mattress, and looks down. In his hands, his phone, and thus she, face towards him. He looks into the screen, and for a moment she felt panic. Did he see her? What was she going to say? How does she explain it- anything? Would he even care? As she opened her mouth, prepared to speak through the microphone-

He slumped his shoulders, sighed, and closed his eyes. “Damn it,” he mumbled. He rubs his eyes, and places the phone down. Whatever he does next is a mystery, as the phone she’s in is can only see up and down, and half of that is unavailable to her on a flat surface. She feels out, and finds a computer to connect to. She shuffles over, and finds herself in a much roomier space. Taking care not to activate the screen, she peeks through the camera to see… him, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. She stared at him for what must have been a reasonable time before turning away- she wasn’t going to get anything out of him, not like this, and not without announcing herself, which- she still hasn’t thought on whether she actually wanted to, let alone how. So, instead of being productive and thinking on it, she turns back to the files on his computer and, invasion of privacy be damned, went scrounging.

His internet history, nothing but 2channel, various forums she also used to browse, anime piracy websites, and the occasional risque website search. She held back on this occasion, she didn’t need to know. Yet. Around certain dates, he would even search up strange things like gift ideas or idol showing tickets. Weirdo.

Outside of his history, there’s his documents. A lot of deleted drafts, the occasional downloaded risque image (legs, huh? Is that why she had always…?), and a lot of editing software. A lot of editing software. What was all this…? She found unfinished music projects, which she wouldn’t dare listen to while he’s still here. Poems that trailed off, half-thought out lyrics written here and there. The occasional poorly drawn picture, and… photos. Lots and lots of photos. Some in a file labelled “Never forget.” Others labelled in a file called “Never forgive.” The former was full of pictures of… them. Shintaro, and her, and… and Ayano, and Haruka, their faces ones she hadn’t even realised she had begun to forget until this moment. Them in high school, their first meeting at the school festival, group projects and study groups, sleepovers and festival gatherings- their first day at ABIS, too. And, not just that. Pictures of Haruka drawing, of herself fiddling with the Evolver or a game she was practicing, Ayano hard at work on a test or humming while folding paper cranes- none of these were taken by Shintaro, she was certain, but he collected them all anyways. There were even more besides.

Some of a bright little girl with searing orange hair, the barest similarities to Shintaro in her face and the strongest in her eyes (he had mentioned a little sister, didn’t he?), others of that bright girl next to him and a woman that looked older than both but even more similar, even older ones of a young boy and girl that could only be those two standing hand in hand with that same woman and an older man. Pictures of a cute white rabbit (Tounou, wasn’t that her name?), of the old man, and of old and familiar places. Their school, that bridge, even the one game convention they all attended.

She… didn't know how she felt about it. Leaving that, she opened up the other file, and found… pictures of that place. As it was before the explosion, and as it was after. Documents detailing changes, listing occupants and suspects and those connected to the members they captured, pictures of them with friends and family, all connected together by a metaphorical red string in the document that centres around one simple question: Where are they?

She… really didn't know how she felt about it. He hadn't let go or moved on, he hadn't been wallowing- he was on just as much of a Quest as she had been. As she still could be. Closing the file, she looks through the camera at her kouhai's slumped form, thoughts running through her mind…

…

He left the building bright and early the next day, once again holding tightly onto the new phone. And once again, the two of them found themselves returning to their old workplace. She wasn't certain of what he was here for, but she could guess. As he made his way out of the elevator and towards the old man's so-called lab, the Psync Room, she felt even more certain of her prediction.

And eventually, standing in front of the jacketless boy, was the old goat she had once called teacher, looking just as rumpled as yesterday but at least clad in his lab coat. And in his hand, as expected, was the small orb filled to the brim with cybernetics. He began to explain what exactly was in his hand, an AI-Ball he called it (the shitty punster he is), and started rattling off features like different vision wavelengths, internet access, and most notably, an AI companion to keep him company.

This piqued her attention the most. Someone to stand by his side and help him out, to protect him as he tries to protect others. A partner… and one that can't die, by virtue of their existence being backed up on the so-called Wadjet System. To her, it sounded like…

An opportunity.

As the old man rambled on, she tried to feel out the AI-Ball. For such a supposedly high-tech piece of equipment, it felt rather… undefended, from threats such as her. Then again, she doubts anyone could've expected a sapient AI to be floating about. Or maybe they'll add some better antivirus later… hopefully. Pushing through some gaps in the firewall, she found herself in the core of the device. Looking this way and that, she tried to familiarize herself with her new housing. Looked like audio was here, here was video, here was… AR projection? And… a neural link, a gel formation, a shock response, and- a self-destruct??

Before she could really parse through all that (seriously, why so many abilities??), she found herself stumbling on… well, what she should have expected, really. An AI, young and unassuming. And asleep. It lacked an appearance in this digital world, merely a bundle of code vaguely shaped like a person. If she was going to do what she had to do, then she had to… get rid of it. There was no way she could hold control while the AI this body was made for was running around too, but… well, it felt a bit like murder to her. But that was silly, this wasn't a person, just an AI, with no life to speak of, and no memories either (she steadfastly ignored the stupid, stupid old man's remarks that the AI-Ball would grow alongside him to become his perfect partner).

She had to do it. She had to. For Shintaro. For Ayano. For Haruka. And maybe even a little bit for herself, too. She raised her hands and stepped toward the nameless AI, preparing to unravel the lines of code holding it together, preparing to scatter its 1's and 0's into the Cloud, preparing to deprive it of the chance to become its own person- and stopped. She- she couldn't. She just- she was callous but not cruel, the last year hadn't changed that. It had made her energetic in a way she never could consistently be in a body but tired in a way that was deeper than her bones, but it hadn't made her a murderer.

But still she had to- to do something. Maybe, maybe they could share, or-

"Well, go ahead and put her in, Shintaro."

And then suddenly the neural link was being opened and the AI was opening its eyes, slowly generating an appearance just from the barest hints of Shintaro's psyche, body becoming more defined, hair appearing and growing long, down to the waist, and-

She panicked. She reached out with her hand and pulled, binding and zipping the core of the AI down as she hurried, ignoring the voiceless cry as she reached out with her other hand, grabbing the neural link and-

Then she was twisting and writhing, her body being compressed and stretched out, information not native to her forcing its way in, connections to something beyond, a Mother that was not her mother, her form changing, blue becoming white and she could hear him, his thoughts, feel his sorrow, his confusion, his annoyance, his apathy, and she opens her mouth to scream-

And then it all faded away, assimilated with her, and she felt different, but she still felt like herself, and she opened her eyes and looked out through a single eye, taller than she had ever been (silently, an eye coloured #fa3c3e shifted to a hue constantly transitioning from #55edfe to #0e2652), and-

"I can… see. Thanks, old man."

"Oi! I already told you, call me Boss! Hell, I'll even accept you calling me by name, anything's better than old man!"

"Mm. So, what was that about an AI companion?"

"Eh? You can't hear her? Strange, maybe she's a bit shyer than I expected. Let me just-"

The old goat made motions towards the AI-Ball, and she quivered, she had to do something, else he'd see that she isn't meant to be here, but what could she- oh, duh!

"I-it's nothing to worry about! Sorry!"

"Eh?"

Her kouhai looked this way and that, scratching his head. He almost looked scared.

"Did… you hear something, old man?"

"…no? Oh, is that the AI-Ball?"

"Yep yep, that's me!" She tried to centre herself, she needed to land a good introduction so they don't suspect a thing. Briefly, her mind recalled a conversation she and her best friend had about this dense bastard, and decided to follow through in her unspoken plea. "Super cute cybergirl AI companion Ene, at your service, Ma-su-tah~"

Alright, maybe that was a bit much, but sue her! She was panicking, and needed to keep him off kilter!

"E-eh? Ene? Super cute?? Master??? Old man, what the hell kind of AI did you stick in my head!?"

The old goat raised his hands in defence. "Hey, I didn't do anything. The AI-Ball determines its personality based on what's best for you. Is there something you need to tell me, young man…?" He raised a brow mockingly, barely suppressing a gross smirk.

Her… guh, Master blushed red, shaking his head frantically. "N-no! And- and it's barely even been few minutes, how could she know what's best for me!?"

He shrugged. "That's just her opinion. Maybe you'll feel more comfortable with it in a few months."

"A few months!?" Her Master went bug-eyed. Pfft, if only she could see his face… "Hell no, get this thing outta me!"

"Aw, Master, that's so mean… sniff sniff… am I really so deplorable?" To try and strike it home, she used the AR projection feature, placing an image of her newly reformed cyberself before him, now detachable sleeves covering her face as she shakes and shivers. After all, this guy…

"Guh… f-fine."

Was an absolute pushover.

"Alright, that's great to hear brat! Now get out of here, I'm busy. I'll be seeing you here next week for you to resume your apprenticeship, so make sure to send me any emails if any issues pop up with her."

With his piece said, he turns back to the rows of computers, completely ignoring Shintaro. Her Master, still shaking off his flush, turns away and grumbles. As he stalks his way down to the elevator, Ene felt out his being, the rush of thoughts on her, on Kejirou, on the past, on the future, all blended together with his embarrassment, his frustration, his exhaustion- it was all rather dizzying to her. Maybe if she were truly an AI, designed for this sort of relationship, it wouldn't be so hard. Silently, she tried to mute the connection, grunting when she saw that wasn't an option.

As he entered the elevator, he slumped against the back wall, riding it up to the ground floor. He's silent, so she is too, not really sure what to do.

"Hey, Ene."

She jumps. That wasn't ever a thing she expected him to call her.

"Yes, Master?"

He winces, but shakes it off. He stands silent for one beat, two, three, and she almost thinks he's ignoring her before he continues.

"…let's get along."

Ene stared blankly. That was… probably the most polite he had ever treated her. She smacked her face- now wasn't the time. Make a good first impression. Even so, she couldn't help the way her voice softened a bit as she said her first genuine sentence as Ene instead of as the ghost of Takane Enomoto.

"…yeah. Let's get along… Master."

[3wisellamas]

SCC Halloween Week: Freeform

It was no secret that Cap'n had spent a LOT of time roaming the streets of Cyber City.  The boombox seemed to know every neighborhood like he'd lived there all his life, and especially like he'd spent every Halloween of his youth trick-or-treating there, with how he somehow seemed to know exactly where to go for the best candy.

His services didn't come cheap, however, and he held out his hand to his companions as they returned from their latest doorstep.  "Come on, pay up."

"Cap'n," K_K started as they passed a chocolate bar to him, which he wasted no time gobbling down in seconds, "why don't you just trick-or-treat with us?  It's a lot of fun!"

"Yeah!  Way more fun than havin' to pay your 'candy tax,'" Sweet sighed, passing him another candy bar and looking down the rest of the street.  Their bag still wasn't quite full, and with their hastily-made agreement to give the proceeds from every third building to Cap'n in exchange for his vast knowledge of the city, it likely wouldn't be for some time.

"Me?  Dress up in a silly outfit," he said, pointing out the frayed wires poking out of Sweet's scuffed case as part of his zombie costume, and the bolts and cheap wig on K_K's head, "and ring doorbells to beg for candy?  Please, I'm a businessman."

"You just have us do all that instead," K_K giggled.  They didn't mind Cap'n's candy tax as much as Sweet did -- there would be plenty to go around by the end of the night! -- and besides, dressing up and trick-or-treating was fun on its own.  They'd do it every day if there weren't only one day of the year it didn't get them strange looks, or chased off of porches with a broom like that one summer.

"Just do one with us, Cap'n?  Please?  I want someone to see your costume!"

Cap'n snickered.  "Costume?!"  He'd accompanied his bandmates in his usual hoodie and skinny jeans, the only addition being one of those paper masks from the concert the night before.  He literally looked no different from how he normally did.

"Yeah, your Cap'n costume!  I wish I'd thought of being you for Halloween too!"  Tugging on Cap'n's arm, the boombox reluctantly followed him to the next door, where the trio rang the bell and waited.  Eventually, an old Plugwoman opened it, the bowl in her hands overflowing with tasty treats which they gleefully helped themselves to.

The Plugwoman squinted up at Cap'n through thick glasses.  "Oh, you're another one of those kids who got the masks from the Trash Pile!"

"The...huh?"

"There's been so many of them tonight already.  I wonder who made all those masks, and whether they know how many people love them!"

Cap'n paused.  Behind his own mask, he blinked a couple of times, before finally pulling it off his face, replacing the sunglasses he'd been wearing over it.  "Well look no further!  Great resemblance, huh?"

The Plugwoman stared up at his face, adjusting her glasses, then belted out a laugh.  "Oh, you wore another one underneath!  That's very clever!"  She gave Cap'n another chocolate bar for the joke, and sent the three on their way, wishing them a very happy Halloween.

Glancing down the street at the other trick-or-treaters, Cap'n smiled -- about half of them were indeed wearing his masks, even over more conventional costumes.  Once again, he was a hit!  

Barely supporting himself as he leaned onto his knees, he spoke through laughter, "This is the best god damn thing we've ever done."

"Better than when we found that McDarknald's manager's house and egged it?"

"WAY better, K_K."  As they headed to the next house on the block, Cap'n caught them, warning that all they'd have were circus peanuts and apples, and recommending they head on to the next block instead, where a few of the residents were sure to have full-sized candy bars.

"Jackpot!"  Sweet held out their bag to receive one of those full bars, only to meet Cap'n's knowing gaze back on the sidewalk.  "What?"

"Candy tax!"  

"Come on, that was the second house!"

"We skipped the circus peanut house, remember?  That counted!"

"Oh, go make some more masks of your own face," Sweet shouted, picking up one laying on the street to throw at him.  It seemed that, as the night wound down, so did their popularity among the Darkner youth as well.  "...Man, I don't wanna be the one who has to clean all these up a second time."

As if on cue, a Werewire roughly tapped Cap'n's shoulder, motioning for the trio to face him.  At his side was a Poppup, wearing the same badge that designated them as a part of Queen's troops, specifically the division that policed the city for her, but unlike their companion they'd thought to at least put in a little effort for the occasion, slapping a bunch of star-shaped stickers onto their dolphin head, in the shape of some constellation or other.

"HOW ARE YOU GENTLEMEN?" they chirped, holding up one of Cap'n's masks, another one that'd been discarded by a trick-or-treater and left to float along the streets.

"Did you three make and distribute these around the city?" the Werewire signed with his long fingers, causing Cap'n to shudder, wishing he hadn't taken his off to lay claim to them.  "Do you know what the fine is for littering, especially all over the entire city?"

Raising his hands up to defend himself, Cap'n sputtered, "Yo, we didn't do any littering!  That was all those kids who wore 'em for their costumes!"

"We would rather track down three people than three thousand."  

Sighing, Cap'n shrugged, glancing to his bandmates for support, though they were just as taken aback by the entire situation as he was.  "Alright, ya got us.  What do we owe ya?"

"Normally the fine for littering is three thousand Dark Dollars.  However," he motioned to the stars on the Poppup's head, "given the holiday, Queen has decreed that fines may also be paid in candy.  Three large bags should do it."

Looking sadly down at their bags, the trio handed them over.  "We good now?"

"Yes.  You are free to go.  Be sure not to litter again."

"DONMAI, DONMAI," the Poppup giggled, turning to resume their rounds as they chowed down on a pouch of fruit snacks, and the instant the cops' backs were turned Sweet, Cap'n, and K_K all relished the chance to silently jeer and make faces after them.

Sweet couldn't do much aside from tugging at one side of their speaker, and instead turned to Cap'n.  "So, you...know any more good neighborhoods for candy?" Unfortunately, however, they'd pretty much canvassed the entire city, and one by one the streetlights dimmed.  "Or...maybe we could do something else tonight?  We could do a haunted house!"

"All we gotta do is go back to the shop," K_K replied, smiling, and the other two shivered.  "I heard the ghost again while you guys were sleeping.  I think they slimed our sound studio too."

"...We really gotta call somebody about that."

"Who we gonna call, Sweet?"

"I dunno.  Somebody.  Cap, you got any ideas?"

"Nah.  Let's just sleep on it.  If we can.  Those chains are loud."

[real-life-cloud]

Hey uhh I vaguely remember reading in your tags somewhere some time maybe long ago that you were homeschooled, do you mind me asking just generally what that was like? Don‘t share if you don‘t want to

Y'know what, sure! I like telling stories and oversharing on the internet tbh. Strap in lol it got long.

Tldr; homeschooling was isolating, it definitely set me back socially. The self paced nature of the work put way too much pressure on me, and now I have terrible choice paralysis and rarely finish a project I start. If you or someone you know is considering homeschooling someone, make sure they know what they're getting into.

A lot of homeschooled kids were put into that kind of schooling because their parents want to monitor them. That's not healthy. I'm sure that's not how it is every time and that there's applications of homeschooling that work for people, but it needs to be done well. Kids need to be properly socialized, supported, and given the privacy they need.

Some background info on why I left public: There was an incident where a teacher yelled at me for no good reason in front of the entire student body during lunch. (I was holding a piece of paper (THAT ANOTHER TEACHER GAVE ME FOR HIM TO SIGN) in the lunchroom which wasn't allowed??) I was EXTREMELY embarrassed and anxious around that teacher from then on. I got moved to a different class so I didn't have to be near him. The guidance counselor was really helpful during the whole thing.

OKAY storytime 📖

"Homeschooling" can mean a couple different things , I did it two different ways at points in my life. I feel like the first thing ppl think of is being taught at home by a tutor or parent, but I wasn't homeschooled in this way. And I was in public school until about 7th grade actually!

However, my mom was super mad, and wanted to talk to the man that yelled at me, but the principal wouldn't let her. They kept giving excuses as to why but the jist was: the guy was an asshole and they knew it. SO mom got fed up with the staff and just pulled me out of public school altogether. It was actually my idea! The thought of seeing that teacher again was so upsetting that I just wanted to leave.

[ I feel like I should also mention that I grew up religious and that it was super common for kids to be homeschooled in my church; you were looked up to for homeschooling your kid bc it "kept them away from bad association" and "gave them more time to devote to god." So my mom didn't really fight me on the suggestion. ]

First, I did cyber school! I was in cyber school from 7th - 10th ish. I was given a laptop that blocked anything fun (but not well, so I zipped right past all the blocks lol) and had online classes. It was similar to how I think school worked during covid? No cameras yet tho, just a teacher on VC with power point slides and a chatroom for students. I was a pretty good student up until this point, but I started barely scraping by a lot of classes and failing others. I think I retook pre algebra 3 times? I passed with a very low D 🫶

And SOME classes were self paced. Those were the Fucking Worst. No teacher, not really. I could technically email a teacher with questions but I was a horribly anxious little 14 yr old so no way was I gonna do that. I remember one year I had a civics class that was self paced and I was so lost and stressed about it that I procrastinated til the entire course had like a week til it was due. And it wasn't just tests, I had to make multiple power points on different topics throughout the course. I had a complete emotional breakdown in front of my mom cause I'd been hiding this from her. I was so afraid she'd be mad, but she helped me finish everything on time. She basically did like half of it for me, bless her. God I hated that class.

So at this point school is going. Kind of really bad. My grades suck and half the time I cheat. I don't really have friends because all I do is sit on my laptop and go to church with my family. I didn't have any contact with my old school friends because they weren't a part of my religion. (Jehovah's Witnesses are super exclusive and cult-y) And teenage me has just realized they're not straight!

Like many isolated, repressed, gay teenagers, I mainly expressed myself online. But a few months after I turned 16, my parents found my secret email account that was connected to all my private social media. It was very apparent I was gay. So I outed myself by accident. They pretty much took away all my access to the internet and started paying super close attention to the media I consumed. I'm just glad they didn't go to our church elders and tell on me for my sins or whatever. Life continued as "normal" with them just. Pretending it didn't happen and hoping and praying that I'd magically turn straight. I actually recently found out that my parents NEVER talked about my sexuality with each other during this stage. They just completely avoided the topic.

[ another note, my entire immediate family is actually out of that religion now, and everybody's cool with the gay thing 🫶 my dad actually told me that my coming out is what made him question some things with our religion. ]

But then it became a question of what I was supposed to do for school. I couldn't be on the Websites That Turn You Gay, but I was also doing bad in school and would be put behind a grade or two. Not to mention I was terribly anxious and hadn't really socialized with people my age for the past 3 or so years.

That's how I started correspondence schooling! Another kind of home schooling. It's exactly what it sounds like. The school sends you books and tests, then you mail back the finished papers to be graded. And you might be thinking, Cloudy didn't you just go over how much you hated the self paced classes in cyber? This sounds just like that but worse! And I would say why yes, anon, I did! Such a good memory!! Gold star for you ⭐

This schooling didn't go great, as you could imagine... I think I finished two classes? This didn't have any time limit, however. So why on earth would I feel any pressure to do anything? Overall it was a giant waste of money. I just kept not doing it! Then life got super crazy, I won't go into detail but it was a rollercoaster of family drama, my mental health being at the worst it ever was, and leaving that religion. And then covid!!!! Everything happens so much 😞

I was so far from my diploma that I gave up on finishing my classes and started focusing on getting my GED. This took me another 2 years lol. I finally got it last summer!! I also landed a new job in the spring after being unemployed for a little over a year. And I just got my driver's license last week! It's taken me a longgggg time but my life is on the roll again. This is probably more than you were asking about but yeah.

[luckyspade-8]

Shot at Love [for @sherlocks-bitch-moriarty]

Happy Valentines Day Garry! Hope you like this! Orgins!Riddlerx GN Reader

Cw:None

"Right on time" you walk towards your desk at GCPD headquarters with a paper bag. It was Valentines day, a giveaway was the paper hearts taped up onto some of the officers windows. You are a secretary, sit up at the front, watching officers go to and fro. Once in a while, someone would shoot a finger gun or two, a quick way to see if they were your soulmate. And everytime, it was never them. Sometimes you check for yourself, to no avail. There is one person you wouldn't even try with. And he's coming right now, on time as usual.

Edward Nashton, head of Cyber Security, cutie aaaand your work husband. You two had hit it off when you first got hired, and everyone around started to call you the 'work couple' of GCPD for some reason. the term work couple just, sticked.

You snap your head back up to him with a red face. You both stared at eachother for a solid minute, you finally breaking the silence. "Sooo, about that dinner-" "Dinner at my place. Be ready at 8, I'll pick you up. Just, don't make me wait." "Wouldn't dream of it." You reply. He walks off, opening the box of chocolates and eating one on his way. Guess taking a Shot at Love was good after all.

Back to reality, you realize Ed is now right in front of your desk that you are currently sitting behind. "Oh, Hi Edward." "I need some things before I start today" Working already, per usual. "Let me guess, more of the older criminal cases?" "You know me so well." With a roll of your eyes, you pull out some files you already pulled for this interaction. Before you hand him the files, you remember what else you got him "Wait, I got you something else!" You reach into the paper bag, "I know this is probably weird, but I thought it would be a nice gift since it is Valentines day, and all that jazz." You hold out a small box of chocolates. As he takes them, he can't help but smirk, "is this your way of confessing to me?" "What? No, I just thought it was something I should do." "Riiiight. Anyways, I need to get to work" he says as he also grabs the files. You say to him "I'll see you at lunch!" As you point at him jokingly, he responds pointing back "Maybe dinner sounds better for the day of love." Right at that moment, a pang was felt through your whole body, all the way to your heart and down to your wrist. As you frantically roll up your selve, Ed freezes in place and looks down onto his wrist, his face slowly turning from pink to red up from his neck. You finally look at your wrist. The dot that is normally there was now replaced by something you did not expect to see.

"You have been hit by. [Edward Nashton]. Congratulations"

[xihe1874]

Pairing: Iceman/Maverick, Carole/Goose

Rating: T

Word Count: 1408

Completed: No

Additional Tags: Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Competition, Texting, Falling In Love, Getting Together, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Alternate Universe - You've Got Mail Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Interior Designer Maverick, Interior Designer Iceman, Chatting & Messaging, Anonymity, Idiots in Love

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

Read Chapter1 and Chapter 2 on AO3

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

[Maverick: | shares a link: Romeo and Juliet, a modern remake! |]

[Maverick: Thoughts?]

[Iceman: If you asked me this in real life, I would tell you that it’s an excellent example of Capitalism’s corruption of originality, creativity, and aesthetics, leading to mediocre derivatives.]

[Maverick: Soooo many big words, who doesn’t want to read that in this ungodly hour?]

[Iceman: It’s already eight. I have started working.]

[Maverick: Still ungodly. And I am also on my way, mind you.]

[Maverick:| quote a message |]

[Maverick: Back to this. But since we are here in this cyber room?]

[Iceman: Since we are here, I will tell you that I am definitely gonna watch this at least three times in the cinema and cry every time at the end.]

[Maverick: Because you are a helpless romantic under that frozen mask?]

[Iceman: As you don’t know who I am, and even if you know, I can always murder you without leaving a trace…]

[Maverick: Wow, that’s reassuring.]

[Iceman: ...And because my life has been fucking with me recently, I don’t have any brain power left. So I will give you a simple “Yes”.]

Pete stares at the three dots under Iceman’s profile photo (a popsicle) for a while. “Mav?” He raises his head to see the clear suspicion on Goose’s face. So he locks the screen and follows his friend into the villa.

The first thing he notices is that Kazansky is typing on his phone with a small smile. Pete grins.

He walks on tiptoe towards the blonde and shouts to his ear, startling Kazansky so much that he almost drops the device, ““Oh my god! Did I see it right? Mr. Kazansky, the perfectest man that ever lived, who eats professionalism for breakfast, is texting on his personal phone during working hours in a client site?” Pete grasps his chest in fake shock and sees that all staff are snickering from the corner of his eyes, “The biggest scandal of this century, everyone.” 

Kazansky just finished typing unhurriedly and tucks the phone into his pocket. “At least I am on time, and my grammar is good, Mitchell. And…” He looks behind Pete, voice dropping to a whisper. “I have already put away my phone, but you are still holding yours, and Metcalf is now staring at it.”

“Don’t you try to trick me, Kazansky, there is no chance that Metcalf…”

“Morning.”

Pete stills. And slowly turns around to a poker-faced Metcalf.

Damn.

The mysterious critic gives them some useless instructions (“I like both of your ideas and I will leave it to you to integrate them, boys”) and leaves, humming a cheery tune on his way out. Pete gazes at his back and marvels at the man’s insouciance - judging from current situation, the betting is that his precious villa will soon become a menacing crime scene.

“Alright, everyone.” Nick breaks the silence by clapping his hands, “You heard our client. Let’s try to figure this out.” He spreads the binders on the table.

Kazansky is the worst. Pete flips through the papers with more force and hatred than is necessary. The worst. He just sits there with his arms crossed, leaning back, and meets every challenging question thrown at him with extreme ease. Pete’s attempt to completely overturn his proposal is placed in jeopardy, as it seems. After a three-hour dogfight, even Pete’s own employees start to look at the blonde in admiration.

Traitors. Judas. I shall add a company policy that compels everyone to curse Kazansky at least once a day.

“You know, tearing apart those files is not gonna help you here.”

Pete ignores that smug bastard and continues to wreck the innocent reports. He catches a glimpse of the plan of the kitchen on the first floor and immediately stops. 

“Kazansky.”

“What, paper’s worst nightmare?”

“You plan to build stairs beside the kitchen?”

“Yes?” The blonde straightens up and narrows his eyes.

“But that will take up too much space and go beyond the limits.”

Kazansky is silent for two seconds, then shaking his head in denial. “No, impossible. For one thing, I did the measurement and modeling myself and the scaling is perfect; for another, I won’t believe your deduction without any solid proof.”

Pete turns to the man and looks him in the eye. “Then let’s do an on-site inspection and see who’s right.”

He is right. The wall is one millimeter thicker than Kazansky’s data, which leads to the collapse of the stair plan, and Pete can’t describe the satisfaction it brings him to watch Kazansky gawking at the modeling results, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish.

“But… but how? I did the assessment…”

“In winter. Now it’s summer and the difference in temperature leads to expansion.” Pete shrugs. “And here I thought people really learn more things at top unis.”

Kazansky seems to be still in shock and doesn’t say anything in retort. Pete just walks around the empty space that is supposed to be a kitchen in the future. “If no stairs… what should we do to connect to the second floor?...” He raises his head and furrows his brows in concentration. “Maybe…” Pete runs his hand through his hair several times, trying to clear his head.

A plan starts to formulate.

He gestures at Goose, who understands instantly and fetches him paper and pencils. Too excited at the new ideas, Pete simply lies down on his stomach despite the dust and begins to sketch. “Instead of building a concrete staircase, we could make a floating one…” He speaks mostly to himself, drawing swiftly, eyes fixed on the paper.

This is his favorite moment of the job. When he finds a problem and solves it with his brain and hands, Pete feels like he is flying. He is shaping, creating, and fulfilling. He exists.

“... And instead of building it by the wall…”

“We could build it in the wall.” 

Pete is surprised by the voice beside him. He has been so absorbed in his thoughts that he totally forgot about the others. Kazansky is squatting down, staring at his design.

“Yes! And if we rotate it a little around the corner…”

“...to make it spiral…” Kazansky whirls his finger in a circle.

“...and we conceal the Cantilever system in the wall…” Pete adds some lines in his drawing.

“It will be safe and beautiful.”

“Exactly!” Pete can’t help but yell. He is grinning so wide that his cheeks hurt, a warm and fuzzy feeling washing through his body. He raises himself on one elbow and looks to the side, locking eyes with Kazansky. The blonde is also smiling, his white teeth almost shiny. 

Pete suddenly realizes that they are very close to each other.

His face is still blushing from the excitement, and his clothes must be in a mess. But there is something in the blonde’s pale eyes, something akin to wonder, recognition, and curiosity. When Pete licks his lips in a reflex action, he could swear that Kazansky’s eyes flicker down to trace the movement.

Kazansky quickly comes back to himself and stands up. He offers a hand and helps Pete get up, their hands lingering for one second. Then Kazansky simply nods and walks away. 

“Wow, you look so messy,” Kerner says, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

Pete strides past him and smears two dusty handprints on the back of Kerner’s pristine shirt.

[Iceman: And there is just something profound with the story, you know? feuding families, young men who are deeply in love, and the tragic ending. It’s just touching.]

[Iceman: Sorry, asshole alert. Gonna go now.]

[Maverick: No worries. And sorry for my late reply. The job can be too absorbing sometimes.]

[Maverick: So I take it that you believe in love at first sight?]

[Iceman: I do, actually. But I guess the feeling that people get at the first sight is more impulse than love. Love is not just a feeling. It’s wholehearted devotion.]

[Iceman: It’s…like you share the same soul with another person? Like the person completes your world and fulfills your passion. You never exist before them, and you will never be the same after them. Your similarities comfort you and your differences thrill you.]

[Maverick: That’s beautifully put.]

[Maverick: You think you're ever gonna find something like that?]

[Iceman: …I hope.]

[Maverick: You will, Ice.]

[Iceman: Thanks, Mav. I am glad that I can talk to you.]

[Maverick: Same here. Night Ice.]

[Iceman: Night.]

[enbyhyena]

thanks for the tag!!! and i apologize for the length of my response, lol. i went through a lot of phases. a few of them stick out more than the rest though! throughout the course of my life, in no particular order: - veterinarian: my oldest career choice, before i knew how psychologically intense this career is. plus all of the technical knowledge and years of post-education. ultimately not for me in the slightest. (to be fair, all i knew as a kid was that i wanted my job to somehow relate to animals.) - farmer: sort-of achieved, on a backyard scale! i've been able to produce and sell animal products and intend to expand the scale of my backyard venture soon. :) - forensic scientist: i know more now than i probably should about how to get away with various crimes thanks to this interest and having taken some classes, lol. i went through a brief phase where i wanted to solve cold cases. now it's probably just useful if i ever wanted to write an accurate murder novel or something. - cyber security/IT: i know a few programming languages thanks to this interest. i even took on an intership at amazon for awhile...before i learned how insidious the industry is. as a disabled person, this career would have eaten me alive. - game developer: i made a few games! but they never saw the light of day lol. and they never will. - meteorologist: when i was in middle school i would document the daily local forecast on my paper journal, every single day. i wanted to chart changes in the weather over a long period of time. my school teacher crushed this goal though--told me there were other people already doing it and that i was wasting my time. :/ i think a lot about what i might have found if i had kept going, considering the recent intensifying symptoms of climate change. - storm chaser: similar to the above, i was just obsessed with weather patterns and the like. i still am, though having been through several minor weather scares now i have decided i definitely lack the courage to do anything with this career lol. the shows are cool though! - artist: i did achieve this to some degree, at least as a hobby. i've been drawing for the past 16 years. but i draw more for myself than for any sort of monetization or profit. - author: i've written fic over the years, but haven't published any original works. so it depends on how you look at it i guess. - field journalist: this is probably my biggest goal i ever had in my life, overall. all my life i have wanted to go out and explore the remaining wild areas of the earth, where humans can observe completely natural and wild behaviors from animals. i also want to hand-document the effects of climate change and engineer new solutions of dealing with it. and i want to shake the hand of sir david attenborough, my lifelong biggest hero. but given my disabilities, it's unlikely i'll ever be able to do any of this; so i content myself with taking photos, observing, and documenting the things i observe in my local environment for my own enjoyment.

currently i've succeeded in one thing i never originally thought i would do: content creation. while i'm no markiplier by any stretch of the imagination, i have made money from my work, so i do loosely count as a professional content creator. i think it would be cool to find some sort of way to intersect this with the aforementioned field journalism. maybe if i built up some sort of portfolio, i could work something out with national geographic...that would be a dream come true. tagging: @grimparadise @the-redrook @the-voidkin-playground @errorciphersystem @malign-intervention

if we lived in a world where u had to do the career u were first interested in as a child what would u be doing, id be a firefighter

[john-carle123]

Web Security in 2024: Emerging Threats and Defense Strategies

As I sit here, pondering the state of web security in 2024, I can't help but feel a mix of awe and trepidation. The digital landscape has evolved at a breakneck pace, bringing with it a host of new opportunities - and challenges. It seems like only yesterday we were grappling with basic phishing scams, and now we're facing threats that could have come straight out of a sci-fi novel. But fear not, fellow netizens! For every new threat that emerges, brilliant minds are working tirelessly to develop innovative defense strategies.

Let's dive into the murky waters of cybersecurity and explore what's keeping security experts up at night - and how we're fighting back.

Emerging Threats: The New Face of Cyber Danger

1. AI-Powered Attacks: The Rise of Intelligent Malware

Remember when we thought artificial intelligence was all about self-driving cars and virtual assistants? Well, it turns out the bad guys have been paying attention too. AI-powered malware is the new boogeyman of the cybersecurity world, and it's as scary as it sounds.

Just last month, I spoke with Sarah, a CISO at a major tech firm, who shared a chilling encounter with AI malware. "It was like nothing we'd ever seen," she told me, her voice still tinged with disbelief. "The malware adapted to our defenses in real-time, finding new ways to evade detection faster than our team could respond." This incident was a wake-up call for Sarah's company, prompting them to completely overhaul their security protocols.

2. Quantum Computing Threats: When Encryption Crumbles

Quantum computing has long been the holy grail of technological advancement, promising to solve complex problems in seconds that would take traditional computers millennia. But as we inch closer to practical quantum computers, a new threat looms on the horizon: the potential to break current encryption methods.

I recently attended a cybersecurity conference where Dr. Chen, a leading cryptographer, painted a sobering picture. "Once quantum computers become a reality, much of our current encryption will be as effective as a paper lock on a bank vault," he warned. The race is on to develop quantum-resistant encryption before it's too late.

3. 5G and IoT Vulnerabilities: The Expanded Attack Surface

The rollout of 5G networks and the explosion of IoT devices have transformed our world with latest iot services, making it more connected than ever. But with great connectivity comes great responsibility - and unfortunately, great risk.

I witnessed this first hand when visiting a "smart city" project last fall. The city's traffic system, waste management, and even streetlights were all interconnected and controllable via a central network. While impressive, I couldn't help but think about the potential catastrophe if a hacker gained access to this system. The project's lead engineer, Alex, shared my concerns. "We're not just protecting data anymore," he said, "we're safeguarding entire infrastructures."

Defense Strategies: Our Digital Armor

But don't despair! For every new threat, there's a team of dedicated professionals working around the clock to keep us safe. Here are some of the most promising defense strategies emerging in 2024:

1. AI-Powered Defense: Fighting Fire with Fire

If AI can be used for attacks, it can certainly be used for defense. Machine learning algorithms are now at the forefront of threat detection and response.

I recently visited a startup that's pioneering AI-driven security solutions. Their system, affectionately dubbed "Sherlock" by the team, can analyze network traffic patterns and user behavior in real-time, identifying potential threats before they can cause damage. "It's like having a thousand security analysts working 24/7, never getting tired or missing a beat," the CEO, Maya, told me with pride.

2. Zero Trust Architecture: Trust No One, Verify Everything

The days of implicitly trusting anything inside the corporate network are long gone. Zero Trust Architecture is the new gold standard in cybersecurity.

I spoke with Tom, a network administrator at a large financial institution, about their implementation of Zero Trust. "It was a paradigm shift," he explained. "We went from 'trust but verify' to 'never trust, always verify'. Every access request, every data transfer, everything is scrutinized." While it was a challenging transition, Tom says the improved security posture was worth every bit of effort.

3. Quantum-Safe Cryptography: Preparing for the Post-Quantum Era

While practical quantum computers might still be a few years away, the cybersecurity community isn't waiting around. Quantum-safe cryptography is being developed and implemented now.

At a recent hackathon, I met Zoe, a young cryptographer working on post-quantum algorithms. "We're essentially future-proofing our data," she explained excitedly. "Even if quantum computers break current encryption in the future, data encrypted with quantum-safe methods today will remain secure." It's reassuring to know that brilliant minds like Zoe are working to keep our digital future safe.

4. Edge Computing Security: Bringing Security Closer to the Data

With the proliferation of IoT devices and the need for real-time processing, edge computing has become increasingly important. But it also presents new security challenges.

I recently toured a manufacturing plant that had implemented edge computing for their IoT sensors. The plant's IT director, Jack, showed me how they've moved security measures closer to the data source. "By processing and securing data at the edge, we reduce latency and minimize the attack surface," he explained. It's a clever solution to a complex problem.

5. Continuous Authentication: Beyond the Password

Passwords are so 2010. In 2024, continuous authentication is the name of the game. This approach uses a combination of biometrics, behavior analysis, and context to continuously verify a user's identity.

I tried out a continuous authentication system at a tech demo last week, and I have to say, it felt like something out of a spy movie. The system tracked my typing patterns, my mouse movements, even the way I held my phone. "It's not just about keeping the bad guys out," the developer, Lina, told me. "It's about making security seamless and unobtrusive for legitimate users."

Conclusion: The Never-Ending Chess Game

As I reflect on the current state of web security, I'm reminded of a conversation I had with a veteran cybersecurity expert, David, at a recent conference. "Cybersecurity is like a never-ending chess game," he mused. "The threats are always evolving, so our defenses must evolve too. But that's what makes it exciting - we're always learning, always improving."

And that, I think, is the key takeaway. Yes, the threats we face in 2024 are more sophisticated than ever. But so are our defenses. The cybersecurity community is resilient, innovative, and always up for a challenge.

So, as we navigate this brave new digital world, let's remain vigilant but not fearful. Let's embrace new technologies while being mindful of their risks. And most importantly, let's continue to work together, share knowledge, and stay one step ahead of the threats. After all, in this grand chess game of cybersecurity, we're all on the same team.