#and it Angers me to no end that they would publish such a report without at least Consulting a statistic professional

[cutieeva]

Devil wearing angel's facade

Female reader

Warnings : Power abuse. Huge power gap. Murders. Mention of uncomfortable crimes. Dubious consent. Attempted of rape. Framing. Blackmailing. Sexual Themes.

Cameras flashing everywhere. Voices were shouting at the same time that the real questions about the topic was lost entirely. People crowed on top of one another despite the many chairs settle inside the massive conference room. Disgusting and humiliating accusations thrown one after another on the police sat in front. One worse than the last.

"Mr. Sullivan, does the police force even desire to catch the notorious unknown killer that is settling fear in the minds of criminals ?" A female reporter asked standing holding her set of white papers on her hand while the another is mike towards her lips.

"Of course we desire to catch the criminal as soon as possible after all that's the duty of the police force to keep the civilians safe and sound". The said Mr. Sullivan answered calmly masking his expression properly to not let any stress be shown.

"But then—"

"But then why the police has not been succeed in catching the criminal in span of four months ?" Another male reporter cut the woman's question to ask his instead ignoring her glare.

"Well, the criminal is very secretive and—"

"Mr. Sullivan is that your failure excuse of not being able to catch the criminal or is this from the police force through you, the leader of this case ?" The man in beat threw the insulting comment rather than a question on him, waiting for any amusing expression to slip and be published in his article.

And the said man smiled forcefully "No comments". The urge to punch the reporter was dangerously increasing thus keeping his mouth shut would be best to not let a accidentally curse out loud.

"Another question, is the reason the police force hasn't been able to catch the infamous criminal is because they are protecting the figure ?" A unknown woman asked blended into the mist of reporters in the very back. However the question taken a back each person in the room after all that was rather a accusation not a question. Mr. Sullivan's eyesbrow raise, sat straight on his seat.

"Who's asking the question ?" Anger lurking under the tone as his eyes tried to find the woman. Slowly all the reporters sat down letting the very same woman stand out who met his eyes.

"I, sir". She answered loud and clear not a hint of nervous could be spotted. He spitefully glare at the woman. "My name is (Y/N) (L/N)".

"So, Miss (L/N), why ask such despicable accusation if the police force is protecting a criminal ?" Hatred brewing inside his chest of how dare a measly reporter tried to taint his reputation than it already was for not catching the criminal.

"Oh, pardon me, sir for making you think it was a accusation. No, it was simply a question after all based on—"

"Based on what ?" He cut her off making her pause as if debating something but in the end shake her head and continued.

"Based on evidence of how the serial killer is rather taking the lives of innocent civilians, it said to be only gruesomely took the ten lives of other criminals who were not related to one another at all. One was serial rapist while the another was serial arsonist and the third was a serial killer, fourth was a former feud politician, fifth was child molestar, sixth was child abuser, seventh was a former owner of an illegal human auctions, eighth was group of men selling alive women for ton of ghost marriages, ninth was a famous female scammer and the tenth was caught in this week was a power abusing former chief police officer". She recite the list of crimes without breaking the eye contact feeling the crowd whispering and tension heavier.

"The way this serial killer is so meticulous in his killing not petty criminals instead high rank positions even the civilians were unaware of in process of masking his identity ? How is it possible if it doesn't mean the police force isn't helping ? How on the earth tons of cops can't detect even a gender let alone the identity of this serial killer ? Also most of the criminals I said were killed such as the famous scammer and the chief officer and group of men selling women were later found that they weren't innocent civillains instead the wanted people police were still in mist of finding so such vital informations only found in your department how come it was leaked to this very serial killer ? Is the police hiding something or simply the criminal is more suited to become a police ?" Every reporter chuckle discreetly at the last sentence while the legal force were feeling waves of humiliation washing over and over like an loop.

Snap. The last thread of patience within the captain was ripped. "You fucking illiterate woman ! How do you think of yourself, a merely nobody to be superior than the police task ? You woman and reporters only knows how to gossip and spread rumors like vicious vines ! Truth ? Huh ! In the name of truth all you reporters wants is to sell entertainment to earn money ! You are the real vile humans. You are ! You fucking—"

"Thank you everybody for coming in this press conference but the meeting has been closed. No more question would be asked". The male lawyer immediately stood up holding the enraged leader and announced politely yet the fire was set and it will only burn because all the wolfs hungry for any amusing titled disguise as reporters were now jumped into their feet, pushing one another to get the first question and the cameramen in heartbeat clicking each seconds of pictures and recording.

"You woman ! I hope you are the fucking next target of this serial killer ! Oh ! It's not hope instead I know !" Grasp filled the rooms of how directly police officer Sullivan admitted. Doesn't matter to the reporters if they aware anger spat those words, all they will do is twist truths and spicy is up meanwhile the culprit of this fire not moving from her root, smiled silently to the angered man, he who was dragged by his co-workers.

SLAP !

The loud clashing noise of slap echoed through the silent office room.

"You fucking useless son of mine ! How in the world could you afford to lose your temper ? Let alone have one !" New senior chief of police screamed angrily. "Do you know what the articles are published about you ?" He threw the newspaper on Sullivan's face that turned red from both rage and shame. Clenching his hurting cheek, his eyes fell over the numerous head line written in bold letters over the papers.

"Breaking news : Found a hint of police task might be helping the said unknown serial killer".

"Police officer Hardy Sullivan, the leader of this leading case and the son of new chief police officer left clue in front of many reporters of him knowing the next victim".

"Leading officer of the anti-hero case confess of knowing the next victim".

"Officer Hardy Sullivan hinting and openly admitted of protecting the unknown killer".

"Is the police task protecting the serial killer ? Or simply it's a facade of punishing the criminals in the name of a serial killer ?"

"See ! My dear son ! What on earth have you done ?" He slammed his hand on the desk, frown paled his face.

"But father, I never confessed or admitted anything like the news outlet—"

"It doesn't matter if it was a confession or not my son ! Rather is it you said who said it or not ?" Hardy close his eyes unable to look into his father's disappointing gaze.

"I did". His father sigh.

"Your words could cost my position and because of that I, being the chief officer of the police task suspend you for three weeks and dismiss you from the leading role of this investigation". Hardy's eyes wide in disbelief of his own father's words.

"No ! No father—" he tried to argue.

"Sir. Before father, I am your senior". Grimly he faced away further hurting his son who silently salute and walked away.

"I am taking my leave". Gritting his teeth. "Sir". With that he left.

"Brilliant job (Y/N)". A beautiful woman smiled, hugging her tightly. "The way you fueled the fire will surely make our rating go to the top !" She winked letting her go.

The said woman returned the smile "I simply asked the question I had in mind. Because the way the serial killer had so many informations about others and killing them without leaving a hint of mistake must mean they either blend with the officers or—"

"There is a snitch". The beautiful woman finished lifting a smile over (Y/N)'s lips.

"Yes mam. I believe so". She agreed with the beautiful woman who is none other then her senior and the archorwoman of the news company she works for. Truth massager is one of the top three news company in this country and top eighth in the global. She worked harder than others to reach a position in this company thus she will make sure she can stay.

"But I wonder will Mr. Sullivan stay the leading leader of this case or someone new ?" Well, (Y/N) didn't knew her answer will be replied the very next day in another conference meeting with a unknown man sitting instead of the former man also introducting himself the new leader of the case.

"Mr. Levi Caspian, why the sudden change of leader ? Does it have something related to the yesterday's confession ?" A male reporter asked.

A smile appeared onto his lips. "What confession may I ask ?" His gentle dark brown eyes looked at the man who frown.

"The confession of him admitting reporter (Y/N) (L/N) would be the next victim of the serial killer in large". His smile wider at the reporter's words.

"Reporter, perhaps there has been a miscommunication. Confession is an act of admitting that you have done something bad or wrong but where did Mr. Sullivan has done something wrong ? Did he admit that he knows the serial killer ? Did he admit he has connection with the serial killer ? Or did he even admit yes indeed the police task is with the serial killer ? Because to my knowledge the only thing he did wrong was spat insult to a lady and hoping for the serial killer to kill her not command the serial killer or confess the next target because she isn't dead". The male reporter simple stare at him unable to search witty replies to utter.

"You are right. Mr. Caspian". He agreed

"Officer Caspian". Levi corrected.

"Yes, officer". The man nod.

"So any other questions ?" His brown eyes scan the sea of people searching for a certain woman he seen at the yesterday conference meeting when he was standing at the very back of everyone. A satisfaction grin appeared when his eyes met her (E/C) eyes. A frown deepen between her eyebrows of feeling his eyes solely on her despite him answering others flawlessly.

"Does he have something to talk to me ?" Because the entire meeting (Y/N) felt his gaze over her figure. When their eyes met, he still kept looking further raising her eyebrow at the action. "He looked too calm for a new officer or maybe it's the arrogance". She couldn't put her finger on hopefully the current one will be able to catch what should have been caught long time ago.

Soon the end of curious questions came to end calmly unlike the previous one. This time the lawyer smiling with relief looked at Levi who smiled back standing up from his chair. (Y/N) sigh, glance at her blank notebook where nothing interesting or new was to note leading her to not even asking a question so her happiness of leaving the crowded room was hasity unfortunately last short when she was called by a officer. "Officer Caspian wants to talk with you. Please come". Both disappointed and tired she followed into another room where he stood facing the window.

"Sir, Miss. (L/N) came".

"You may go". The officer salute and left the two people inside the huge room.

Finally she was able to see his face closely finding the man more youthful and handsome than from the backseat. "I am sensing dark circles soon be arriving". She smiled and shake his hand. "Pleasure to meet you sir". He nod gesturing her to take a seat. "I am reporter (Y/N) (L/N)".

"So, Miss. (L/N) I have seen how you are the most qualified reporter in this case. How you have even memorized the crimes has fascinate me leading me to ask you do you perhaps guess there is a spy within our force ?" The reporter paused wasn't expected to be asked so directly.

"Not at all sir, yesterday question was simply a question or more like a fuel to the fire". Smiling through her lips she lied yet the man's smile lips dropped turning into seriousness.

"Reporters are known to be truth messager so lying doesn't suit your lips, Miss. (L/N). I will take you do believe there is a spy but will not reveal to much dismay. Rest assure, this was the only question. Hope you have a good day". (Y/N) nevertheless smiled, a pit of pool over her stomach.

"Have a good day to you too, sir". She wished standing up, turn her heels to about to leave.

"You might think I can't catch the killer but I will soon". His sentences sounded more like a promise because it was.

"Hopefully you do". She wished as well confuse at why he is not asking more or what the whole point of this meeting was but she simple wanted to return the embrace of her home.

"Okay, everyone hurry up and say what's the new big news that we will be airing ? The scandal of officer Salluvian is getting old and the new officer is rilling women would always be going endlessly so to appear different from other channels what's the next news should be ?" The archorwoman impatiently drum her beautiful nails on the desk, staring at each's soul to pressure them for their brains to pop not a good enough news— rather the best one after all this company is famous for being best as it should be.

"How competitive when it's being only one week the news of new officer is taken off yet another amusing tale is needed". Rubbing her aching forehead to squeeze any spicy information she has within her file to present.

"(Y/N)". In a whisk she met her bluest shade of eyes and a smile was offered to her "My sweet (Y/N), do you perhaps have any stories ?" A pit of pool arise inside her stomach from the silent pressure her seniors gives and the eyes of her co-workers feels needles on her thin skin.

Quickly she blurt out "How about the actor Samuel Holland ? It's no secret to press and his staff member about how he coerce sexual favors from his female workers even in his latest interview about his movie hitting billions box office, behind the backstages he tried to sexual assault the woman badly leading the reason why the interview cut short". She explained under the pretense of nonchalant when in her mind is hazy at the sudden spotlight above her head.

And the headache became worse after the sight of her senior's smile vanished within seconds "Next". Bored her eyes targeted to another junior leaving (Y/N) feeling bittersweet at disappointing the person who's expectation wasn't reached.

"It's all right. Not your fault". The pad of her fingers gently ease the frown off her forehead, comforting her own self for at least trying. Even if it's failure she achieved.

"How interesting indeed". Hand cover the lower part of his face that still unable to conceal the smile painted upon his lips. How could he ? When present in front of Levi's eyes is a cold dead body layed on the grass. It's a man's body who's head ripped apart from his body hanged on the oak tree by a rope where underneath the shadows of leaves covered the view of this man's body layed with stomach cut open letting dried organs shattered all over the skin not a single blood or organ touched the luscious green grass. "Must be relocated" He thought discovering the scene for three minutes now.

"Officer Caspian". His assistant called him in which he replied with a hum not taking his eyes off the crime scene. "We have identify the body's identity".

"So fast ?" He was truly surprised to hear that after all the torture wasn't merciful in his opinion. "Maybe should have tortured more to make it unrecognizable". A wicked thought slipped inside his mind.

"It is because sir, the body belongs to none other than the famous trending actor Samuel Holland". The junior waited for any flinch or surprised eyes from his senior yet "Oh" with an unimpressive expression was earned leaving the junior a little baffled since it's unheard of a raising star to be suddenly murdered.

"Okay, go on ?"

"What sir ?"

"I said go on, any other information ?" Levi roll his eyes at the delayed reaction.

"Well, he is the victim of the infamous serial killer due to his reputation of sexual harassing multiple women even a year ago a devastating accusation was directed towards him by a minor for almost SA her knowing very well her age which was later turned out to be false". The senior hummed walking out of the scene meanwhile in a company a woman is blankly staring at her laptop's screen stating the death of the raising male star.

To be honest it's a wonder how her mouth wasn't agap listening to such a heart-wrenching death, in her earshot cries of her co-workers echoed following with comforted whispers. "Hopefully he rest in peace". (Y/N) prayed even though her wonderous thought imaged how the sexually assaulted victims took the news. A genuine curiousity felt to peek at their lives, were they happy ? Sad ? Disgusted ? Or nothing. Before her mind dug deeper she flinch hearing her name.

"(Y/N) !" Her female friend, Ella yelled dashing to her in process swaying her chin length black hair beautifully. "How terrifying news ! Do you know the actor we had— oh ! You are watching that". She paused. "Well, did you see the crime scene ? O my god ! Even glimpsing the piece is sending shivers in my spine". (Y/N) nod so she is.

"Thank goodness he kills only bad people".

"He ?" (Y/N) gaze at her.

"Well, first of all most of the serial killers to date is men and second of all the sadistic way it's victim is killed seems to be by a man unless the woman has serious grudge against the victims". Ella explained to which (Y/N) partedly agree cause who knows ? If there isn't enough evidence to prove otherwise.

"Oh ! This wasn't the reason I came to you only" Ella chuckled "Mam has chosen you to go and ask more about this death".

"But wasn't someone else was—".

"She likes you better due to the way you ask questions so now hurry up before she thinks you are slaking off". Quickly (Y/N) wordlessly grab her belongings to reach her destination along her selected cameraman.

"Officer Caspian do you have any say in this matter ?"

"Officer Caspian, it's been over one week and two days and the killer has moved his pawn yet wasn't caught how does that feel to taste the failure ?"

"Officer Caspian, were the vows of protections and catching the killer were simply your arrogance speaking or a heat of the moment ?" Numerous reporters once again gathered at the doorstep of police station suffocating the man to near death by their mics, mush voices, flashing cameras creating difficulties for him to climb the stairs to reach inside the station yet he looked utter composed.

"Officer Caspian, do you even believe that the work of these murders are rather took by group of people than a single pair of hand ?" This was enough for Levi to turn his head and spot the same woman he didn't thought would ask such interesting questions again.

"Miss (L/N) I think the police has also stated that it was a work of one person". He bore his dark brown into those (E/C) eyes searching any emotions hiding behind.

"But sir, police could be wrong because it was only stated not based on any evidence ?"

"Then in which evidence could you have come to the conclusion it would be a group of people ?" He shot back in beat. Suddenly the voices creased and breath held anticipating in tension to record the intrigued conversation to sell.

"I have none". She disappointed everyone. "That's why I am asking the legal force to work harder if they don't want speculations against you". Levi simply turned and walked away once again presume the noise loud.

(Y/N) breath out. "The pressure was heavy". But before she could relax the officer turn his head. "Miss. (L/N)" She looked up.

"What do you believe the killer would feel when seeing as much as people hate them for commiting such horridious murders, there is also group of people sings songs of their praise for". A arrogant smile appeared "You know—". He shrug his shoulders "—cleaning the filth from the earth".

(Y/N) was totally off guard to have her ask this unexpected yet she answered "Based on how they murdered seems to wash off bad people continuously. It seems they will proud. Too proud". This time Levi wasn't disappointed so he walked inside at ease.

"Knew it no serial killers are good ! Does he begin to deem himself a god ?" Words of Ella went over (Y/N) head as she blankly gaze at the news shown over her digital screen. Breaking news : The infamous anti-hero serial killer turned out not be hero at all after committing homicide of a small family where the child was merely thirteen.

She can't believe it— no, she refuses to belive it. Grabbing her belongings and walking up surprising Ella who was immersed in her own babblings.

"What happen (Y/N) ?"

"I think there seems to be a copycat". Ella parted her lips to express her opinion but (Y/N) drafted away quickly without her camera man.

"What in the world ?" She whispered to herself, resting her cheek against her palm.

Meanwhile the reporter took little minutes to arrive at her desired destination and rush into the crowded people surrounding officers asking their unanswered questions.

"Officer Caspian, there seems to be a copycat !" (Y/N) yelled louder to which Levi roll his eyes hearing the similar question for the third time today however she was persistent.

"Officer Caspian, the murder today's morning took place was done by a copycat is 100% true. There is no way the real serial killer would have done it". Finally the man stopped in his track.

"How you can so faithfully say so ? Based on any evidence again ?" Almost mocking the question was asked.

"None I have but I believe the real serial killer wouldn't because it would ruin the reason they might have begin the series of murders or else why did they only choose sinful people ? Out of nowhere a slaughter of a family in their own property doesn't add up". She argued.

"And it also doesn't add up how a civilian takes law on their hands and still being called hero despite murdering humans". The officer boredly stare at her, coming closer. "The way Miss. (L/N) seems to be in illusion, I might dare to point a question of are you a supporter of the serial killer ?" (Y/N) lower her eyes not comfortable with the sudden leaning closer.

"I am not but I believe what I see and I do not see the real one". Levi scoffs and went inside the police station. "I know I am right". She thought

But then somebody tell her why on earth right after the shocking slaughtery of the family soon two days later they find a innocent collage student body with the same twisted method of murder ?

"What is happening ? This isn't possible". The reporter unable to escape the reality she ought to not believe of yet another murder by the same serial killer. "There must be some kind of mistake". (Y/N) tried to convince herself that soon was proven wrong when another body wrapped with death was founded, this time a child but another day it was a man, the next of a married woman and this week is a old man in his late 80s.

(Y/N) was feelings her head spin by the amount of deaths in this month, it was almost as if the killer was at a rampage of bloodlust killing anyone and everyone on sight with no hint of the motive nor any clue of the next victim unlike before where at least the civilians had a idea this person's sole motive was to wash away the filth of people while not harming innocents yet that went to drain.

(Y/N) scroll through the comments only to have her blood turn cold of how each person in the comment has turned against the killer, each civilians wants the death sentence of this person surprising how much hatred they are having within themselves. "What is going on ? Am I the only one who thinks they— the real serial killer can't do it ?" Fingers dug through her hair touching her scale to ease the aching physically and let her temple touch the cold white table for a moment closing her eyes and forgetting the choas of her world.

———–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—

"YES ! YES ! YES !" (Y/N) jumped on her feet, grinning ear to ear at the news of a new found murder near a lake where the victim is a abuser and a note is carved on the victim's stomach said 'I am the real one' proving the past murders were indeed not their deed "This is enough" She shamelessly screamed only to glance around the empty meeting office and let out a sigh of how idiotic and strange it might had been if one saw her being happy on one's death news.

Happily she grabbed her belongings to question the officer who's judgemental was proven wrong. Simply thinking about his frowned and humiliation would be satisfying but the question still stands without any answers of who did the past murders then ?

"So, Mr. Caspian, any say of your judgmental proven wrong ?" A male reporter asked to the expressionless leading officer who's eyes rather than focused on this nameless man was towards a certain reporter woman. He has to see her face— that (E/C) eyes shyly gazes at him yet her frame stand tall without a hint of nervous along her pink lips smiling oh so beautiful. But that's not the reason he must see her instead for a different one.

And it was confirm the moment she entered the room waving her (H/C) to the air, smiling ear to ear. She looked proud. A smirk appeared with a hint of crimson blush shattered over his cheeks. "Caught on trap".

———–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—

"Why is he looking so calm ?" She doesn't know how to react watching as people throws hundreds of their failure to protect the citizens while each of the legal force is either uncomfortable or bitter vastly different from Levi Caspain, who's expression could be describe in word : nonchalant. Uneffected to anyone or any sentences totally jaded looking to be honest. "Something is amiss". Her gut feelings says and she knows there is something the officer is hiding from others including herself is unaware.

However (Y/N) will soon be unraveled from the mystery when after meeting she was called by the head once again.

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"Hello sir, pleasure to meet you once again". Nicely the woman greet the high ranking officer properly this time.

"Pleasure to meet you too". His smile strained almost as if he holding himself "So, the reason I called you is because I want to confirm something". (Y/N) uncertainly nod, looking at the man who's intensely stare back raising a uncomfortable feelings inside her.

"This is you, Miss (L/N) isn't it ?" Mockingly he throw some pictures over the glass table between them and her eyes widen upon gazing them because in those pictures she was captured yet not alone rather with different interesting people at each picture.

One of her public interview with a serial killer that was killed by this infamous serial killer. Another interview with the former serial arsonist, another was a private meeting with the former serial rapist at jail and a private picture of her taken hand shaking picture with the former frud president and more until it ends with meeting the Samuel Holland in his latest and last hit interview behind the scenes taking his autograph.

"To be honest no one would ever wonder a reporter to be a killer let alone the infamous serial killer". Levi laughed like it was the funniest joke he ever heard in his life however (Y/N) doesn't share the same feeling. How could she ? When all her unwanted secrets were shattered in front of her by the least person she ever wanted.

"How did you know ?" Her voice was calm, too calm it amused the officer but only herself could hear the blood rushing to her eardrums and heart racing so fast she feared he was listening and enjoying too.

He titled his head, a grin over his pink lips. "It's your fault". She frowns, digging her nails into her flesh leaving crescent dents. "The reason I discover your secret wasn't by being a good officer and pop ! Got the solution". He laughed some more while (Y/N) paled some more imaging how could a officer catch a wanted serial killer and not straightly cuffed her instead of laughing like they were long lost friends. "Instead it started with your exciting questions. The way you asked and smiled at that Sullivan officer so mockingly after he was dragged out of the meeting made me look forward to your next compelling questions only to find out I was the next leading officer making me all giddy to meet you and thrill to catch this unknown killer so I started investigating the orgin of where and when and how it started that I recall you completely recite in the former meeting made me think you would be the perfect person to get help hell ! Even know you more as a person but the more the case went the more you so happen to be confident, always questing the authority like a taunting—". He snicker. "Only much later to realize you were indeed".

"But that time because your sense of confident, intelligent and mocking arose something within myself donning that I was actually attracted you". Levi smiled, his eyes glossed like memories flashing behind the dark brown eyes. "Thus, I begin to find every little thing from your pretty name to which collage you graduate to when you first become a reporter to who you meet in daily base and slowly I begin to point out how every victim who found dead is someone you met just a day or two before their deaths. Peculiar isn't it ?" He pursed his lips. "I brushed off yet memorizing it and I also notice how you met Samuel Holland the day before he died and this made me question everything leading me to ask you that day what would the killer felt hearing the songs of their praises and you replied proud with that same hint of confidence". (Y/N)'s eyes flicker to his and a truth was washed on her too.

"And that's why you killed the innocent civilans to see how I would have reacted and—".

"Smart woman". He compliment her and stood up from his seat. (Y/N) felt like her mind was spinning and her throat was dried by the amount of fear and disgusted she felt by his man, but then again she was no better but still better than this vile man who simply murdered innocent people to see her reaction. How could he ? Being in legal task, taking his vow of protecting people while stabbing the very same civilians to death.

"What if I wasn't the killer ?" He boredly puff his cheeks because they both knew the answer to that and that was—

"Then it was nothing". Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. The word nothing makes a bile threat to pour out of her lips, she digged her nails more into her flesh suprised how the blood didn't slide. "How could you ? You killed innocents for what ?"

"Didn't you hear ? Your reaction". He walked towards her, crossing the table that she felt safe to have as a useless shield and sat beside her. (Y/N) doesn't need to spell the words she knew very well over his eyes that stare at her with desire, lust and want. A shameless adultery need.

And this moment she understand why he didn't arrest her or straightforwardly humiliated her because he wanted something from her. He wanted to take her soul. A thing that every woman fears when walking in a alone place or meeting a man.

Breathing becoming suffocating, hatred mirrior over her truthful eyes and fear permanent.

"You want my b-body". This time her tremble was unescaped as her (E/C) eyes watch the man sat closer to her until his breath was over hers, knees brushing each other and his cologne like an snake twisted over her breath.

"No". Liar. She thought.

"I want you". He utter lowly as his eyes soften looking between her lips and the shade of her eyes he learnt to love. "I want you entirely, your body, your heart and your soul. I want every piece and bits of you". He finally confessed and leaned towards her side neck to press his lips over the (S/C) skin he spent nights fantasying on and on.

(Y/N) breath hitched, her heart sanked and tears finally roll down her cheeks. The hatred she has for these men and people are the very reason she begin her first killings, she couldn't tolerate filth like these were in position of power, abusing and ruining to their sole pleasure. She had decided if she ever get caught she will never regret but how she never in her horrors of nightmare dreamed of being ruined by the same kind of people she very much have bloody hands of.

Thoughtlessly her trembling hands touch the shoulders of the officer and push away from her to see how blush over his entire face with his eyes dilated into heart shapes and lust. "If you do not wish to be arrested then submit yourself to me". Breathlessly he utter diving into her neck again and hands touching her breast over her white shirt.

(Y/N) clench her jaw "I will do whatever you will say if once you confess to me properly that you are the killer of all the crimes then I am yours". Levi stopped, his feverish state gaze over her and said.

"I am the killer, I did all the killings. Do you understand it ? Also you must be mine if you don't want this little secret of yours to slip". Hastily he finished unbutton her shirt and snuck his huge hand to grasp her breast at the same time kissing her lips.

Soft. Sweet. Those could be the words he could describe kissing the woman of his dream felt like. Her little lips crushed into his as he dive his tongue into her mouth, savorying a sweet and sour taste that becomes more sweet the more he explore.

Heaven. She is divine to him and he knew everything he had done was worth it and his snuck palm slowly caress the bra covered breast that he easily lose the strap of and collide the warm breast between his fingers teasing the nipples. (Y/N) finally couldn't take anymore and push the man away from her strength.

"I am virgin". She whispered breathlessly, her eyes met his flustered wide ones. "And I want my first time to be proper. Please. I promise I will give myself up and be yours for as long as you want but please let me have my first time gentle". Pleading her eyes she looked at and hugged the man lightly, arms over his neck. "Please. Not here in officer. Not today". She left little kisses over his lips, eyes and face letting the man touch her, feel her however not have her.

Looking into her fearful pleading eyes he agree. "But tomorrow at my house. You must". He then tighten the grip. "Or else your secret is up". (Y/N) merely looked at him with her watery eyes and press a long kiss over his lips without moving.

"I will". He doubtfully looked at her thinking how obedient and sly the woman is once her darkest secret is in his hands and thinking about it makes him more furious because what if someone else knew it before him and threated her ? Would she had also kiss him slyly ? Would she also please him ? These questions drive him to edge— no if there were any man or person, he would erase their existence.

His sight followed (Y/N) fixing herself and looked at him, a silent permission to leave to which he nod and wordlessly she left him awaiting for the next day to arrive unaware how foolish he was.

———–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—

Knocks could be heard outside of Levi's door, perplexed he looked near his bedside alarm to find 5:00 am written. "Who is so early on Sunday ?" Rubbing his sleepy eyes, he pulled himself up from the bed to his feet coming to his door with a soft yell "Coming". Forgetting to change his usual night suit. Yawning he opened the door and his eyes twitch to be greet by the faces of his junior officers.

"Good morning". He greet them not sure of the way they didn't salute him or respect him first "Is this about the case ?" He crossed his arms to his chest, yawning.

"Officer Levi Caspian you are under arrest for the charges of sexual assaulting a woman, threating her, blackmailing her and for the recent murders took place—".

"What ?" Levi cut his junior off finally noticing the displeasure and disgust directed towards him and before he were utter more others cuffed his hands behind and dragged him out mercilessly.

"And as I was saying you have right to remain silent or have a lawyer but please be cooperative". Levi in disbelief of how one day he had to ever hear those jaded words to himself and scoff.

"About the woman thing, was her name (Y/N) (L/N), a reporter perhaps ?" He asked still nonchalantly knowing there is no prove against him however what pained him was how she went opposing him. Almost adorable if he wasn't furious. The juniors he thought respectful ago, glared at him with loathe settle in their eyes.

"There she is". His much awaken sight saw the woman who torment him not only in his dreams rather in real life too making him recall how dangerous it is to be addicted to someone, more terrifying if that woman is (Y/N) who looked up at him with those sunken eyes, reddish nose and wobbling lips and the moment their eyes met, she flinched—scared like a little rabbit caught by the wolf. How ironic ? A laugh would had explored his lips if not for this aching situation.

"You have no prove against me. You are charging a innocent man—".

"I am the killer, I did all the killings. Do you understand it ? Also you must be mine".

"Please. Not here in officer. Not today".

"But tomorrow at my house. You must be".

The more he listened to the evidence— more like an edited evidence to twist the vines of truth seemingly appear as him, the killer threatening her and officer is abusing his power over a mere woman who not at all want to reciprocate his feeling. An edited version of truth of his secrets leaving out hers or more like painting her a total victim.

Anger and betrayal course through his body as the reality sink in his bones of how much badly he is framed that will lead him to lose his everything, from his reputation to his dignity to his power to (Y/N), the desperate need of her will be strip away from when she is the cause of his ruins.

"How could you recore—" Rage rushing his veins, he tried to be closer to her only to have her flinch and crumble into a ball alike of an frighten child, shielding herself. He scoffed at the pretense noticing how when the officers dragged him a fleeling smirk is dancing on her lips.

"This woman is a sin". The more he ponders the more rage curse over his usual collected mind. Never was he thought himself a foolish man for not noticing their conversation yesterday. Replaying the memories of yesterday seem to clear the fog of why she tried to confess him, became decile because she was recording. Preparing for the perfect trap to rope over and he fell by himself.

———–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—–—

Tears were beginning to be difficult to produce the more (Y/N) tried to appear vulnerable and fearful watching the man who was portrait as the killer of all these murders and a disgusting power abusing man to snatch a innocent woman. Well, that's the truth the entire world has known as she watched Levi wearing a orange color outfit gazing at her through his seat in front of the judge to announce his sentences which she thinks is life sentence.

"How sad". Her disappointment was creased soon when the male judge said otherwise. "Levi Caspian charged with—" He continued with the list of crimes. "I announced to be punished to death sentence". Her (E/C) glee up, never has she ever been so delightful of the justice system ignoring the burning glares she receive from a certain man who's eyes she ultimately met for the last time.

And just like that he said his last sentences to her spitefully yet eyes still held the desire to capture her. "Devil wearing angel's facade".

FIN

[pocket-luv101]

Red Wine

Fandom: Genshin Impact Ship: CynoNari

Summary: Tighnari doesn’t understand why Cyno never defends himself when scholars attack him for merely being the General Mahamatra. When he overhears someone insulting Cyno, he can’t contain his anger anymore.

“Those arrogant scholars boast that they’re rational and infallible merely because they couldn’t dream. If that’s true, tell me why they’re always the ones I have to save from feral leopards. They approach dangerous animals as if they’re in a fairy tale and they’re able to befriend them. That’s very illogical to me.” Tighnari complained and drowned his cup of wine. “I don’t know how you’re able to deal with them every day. They must be a headache for you too.”

“I’m the General Mahamatra and it’s my job.” Cyno shrugged. He didn’t add that his work had been more taxing after they rescued the Dendro Archon. Ranting about his job would be a burden to Tighnari when he was already busy with his own work with the Forest Watchers and reforming the sages. To be able to share a drink with him at the end of the day was enough for Cyno. They sat at the bar on the second floor of Lambad’s Tavern.

“You always say that, Cyno. You don’t need to act as the General Mahamatra when it’s just us. Even people who love their work will complain when it becomes stressful. It’s why I invited you out for drinks.” Tighnari flicked his fingers against the cup and the glass rang softly. He felt a little tipsy and his body naturally leaned towards Cyno. He grinned at him and whispered: “I promise I won’t report you to the Matra for any rude comments you make about the Akademiya.”

Cyno chuckled and a subtle smile softened his face. The sight made a flame flicker in Tighnari’s heart. He loved Cyno’s smile but then he thought of how he rarely showed it to others. Tighnari wished that people would be less guarded against Cyno. If they could see Cyno’s virtues and trust him, his work as the General Mahamatra would be easier.

While Tighnari was a student, he would overhear people complain about the Matra and the General Mahamatra. He never understood why. Cyno only acted in the best interest of scholars and protected them from their own folly. Those feelings only grew after he met Cyno and they became friends. He learned how much he cared and that he wasn’t the type to blindly follow the sages. Tighnari fell in love with the man behind the title of General Mahamatra.

“The Yae Publishing House sent me a copy of the latest Genius Invokation novel. They used you as a model for the cover.” Tighnari glanced at Cyno in the corner of his eyes. He was attractive and easily embodied a regal hero. “It must be exciting to be a part of your favourite game. Though, I’m surprised you like the novel when it deviates from the rules and some of the ways he wins are absurd.”

“That’s what makes it interesting. It’s difficult for me to explain. I don’t think anyone should rely on luck or miracles but I believe they can happen. They don’t occur in real life as often as they do in the novel.” Cyno saw how corrupt the world could be—even outside of the Akademiya. His life could never be like a novel but he cherished the peaceful nights he could share with Tighnari.

“It was luck that you were assigned to my case instead of another Matra. Because of that, we were able to meet. This is to luck.” Tighnari lifted his glass and taped it against Cyno’s. “Fukumoto wrote me a letter and requested I be a model for one of his characters. He didn’t tell me the details. Which one do you think I will be?”

They began to discuss the novel and drank wine. Since both of them had the day off tomorrow, they allowed themselves to indulge more than usual. The warmth rising within Tighnari wasn’t from the alcohol or the atmosphere of the tavern. Cyno’s voice had an allure that was far more intoxicating than the wine. Unfortunately, he couldn’t tell Cyno that without risking their friendship.

Tighnari was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard plates clatter against wood. He turned towards the noise and saw a group of students sitting in the corner of the room. From their uniform, they were from the Amurta Darshan. Life in the Akademiya could be overwhelming and students would go to Port Ormos or local pubs to escape the pressure.

Then, one of the students slammed his hand on the table. “The Matra confiscated my modified ruin guard and now I won’t be able to complete my graduation thesis in time. I’ll have to repeat the course. Why would the Akademiya give the Matra so much power over researchers when they only know how to shred paper? I bet they haven’t written a single paper before.”

Tighnari’s frown deepened with each word they said and he started to stand. He didn’t expect Cyno to wrap his arm around his waist and pull him back onto his stool. The alcohol made it difficult for Tighnari to regain his balance immediately and he leaned against Cyno. He pushed his bangs out of his eyes before he looked up at him. “Why are you stopping me?”

“Because I don’t want to arrest you for starting a fight with them, Nari. I don’t care what people say about me.” Cyno held him closer when Tighnari glared back at the group. He admired Tighnari’s outspoken personality and his conviction but he didn’t want him to get in trouble for his sake. “You’re drunk. I’ll walk you back to Avidya Forest.”

“I only had two drinks. I’m not a lightweight like Kaveh.” He pouted. A part of him knew that Cyno was right and arguing with the students could escalate. That did nothing to quell the anger boiling in Tighnari though. His hand tightened around his cup until Cyno placed a hand on his shoulder. Cyno ignored the insults scholars threw at him and the Matra for the sake of his work. He had to admit he felt happy that Tighnari would defend him.

He stood and held out his hand to Tighnari. “Let’s head back home before Collei starts to worry.”

“The General Mahamatra is a dumb humanoid fungi.”

Tighnari slammed down his cup and the force shook the plates on the bar. Everyone in the bar turned towards them but Tighnari didn’t shrink away from the confused stares. When Cyno tried to stop him again, he shook off his hand. He marched to the table of students and crossed his arms.

“You have no right to be wearing an Amurta uniform when you clearly have no grasp on the fundamentals in both biology and the Akademiya. The General Mahamatra graduated with better grades than most scholars I know. He has a better understanding in botany than you because he would never use such an insult. Fungi are very intelligent creatures—unlike you. If they’re so smart, you would’ve been able to write a thesis that doesn’t require the General Mahamatra’s corrections.”

Tension filled the air as Tighnari continued to lecture the students. Cyno noticed one reach for a cup and quickly placed himself in front of Tighnari. Even if it was from a simple splash, Cyno instinctively moved to protect him. The students stiffened when they saw the General Mahamatra. He could read the fear in their expression.

“Have you heard of the tavern on the moon? It had good wine but no atmosphere. The moon is out and responsible students shouldn’t be drinking this late. Use this time to write a better thesis paper.” Cyno told a joke to diffuse the situation. Then, he wrapped his arm around Tighnari’s waist and led him towards the stairs. He was grateful that Tighnari followed him without arguing with the students further.

“This is why arrogant scholars irritate me. They act like they know everything and make judgement on people and things they don’t know.” Tighnari grumbled. Cyno took him to a bench outside of the Akademiya where they could be alone. He was more drunk than he thought and the cool air felt refreshing against his flushed skin. He closed his eyes and rested his head on Cyno’s strong shoulder.

His ear brushed against Cyno’s cheek as he tilted his head to look down at him. He studied his face and the moonlight highlighted his soft features. He stopped himself from threading his fingers through his black hair. Cyno told himself that Tighnari was leaning on him more than usual because of the wine. Then, Tighnari opened his eyes and their gaze met. They were close enough for him to count the different shades of green and brown in his eyes.

“I hate when they say those things about you.” Tighnari’s words were slightly slurred. However, his eyes never left Cyno’s. Between the alcohol and how he was on the edge of sleep, his words became more honest. “It’s strange. I want people to see how strong, loyal and moral you are. There’s no one I trust more than you, Cyno. On the other hand, I get jealous at the thought of someone trying to win your heart. Who wouldn’t want to be with someone like you?”

“I won’t leave you.” Cyno whispered into his hair. Then, he added as a joke: “Considering my reputation, I doubt someone will fall in love with me.”

“It could happen. I love you.”

[beacon-lamp]

literally the only professional thing about that report is the formatting

[violettelueur]

GOJO SATORU || BECOME A REAL COUPLE

| featuring : gojo satoru from jujutsu kaisen

| warnings : grammar errors other than that n/a

| form : imagine (with she/her pronouns)

| word count : 2700

| published : 05 december 

| request : Hi hiiii!! I saw that your requests were open again :) I would like to order a black coffee please! a fake dating → feelings realisation where (fem) reader is from one of the big 3 clans and is pressured into finding a SO by her clan. So Gojo offers to fake date her; meeting her parents etc. Only for them both to realise that they ended up falling for each other. Would love to see how you determine the way they handle it and confess for real. Thank you!! Love all your work so far x

| barista’s notes : can i be completely honest with you? this little piece isn’t really my best ʕ ﾟ ● ﾟʔ even though it’s only been 2 days but i already feel like my writing skills have disappeared ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ but other than that, thank you so much for loving all my work ʕ•ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡ i really hope you enjoy your cup of classic black coffee (jujutsu kaisen request!) and please come again soon!

“You have to get married soon Y/N! You’re 27 and we have no heir for the Kamo clan!”

“Didn’t I leave the clan 10 years ago? There is no way I’m going to listen to someone like you nor my child is forced to become a jujutsu sorcerer, and what makes this more irritating is that you came all the way to my workplace to tell me this,” you snapped back at the man in front of you, before turning around trying to walk away from the situation. However, it seemed like the old man wasn’t going to give in to the situation or to the rejection of your answer, he was stubborn - just like you were, after all, that was the only thing you inherited from that man.

“Y/N! I am your father and I demand you to listen to me!”

“Shut up!” you shouted before turning to look over your shoulder. The man that stood there pride and arrogance running through his veins - something that you didn’t inherit, fortunately. There was no way you could call this man your father. The same ‘father’ that criticized you for not having the same blood manipulation like the rest of the family - well that’s what he gets for being with a woman from a different clan that had a different curse technique that you inherited - an outcast, that was what you were within the Kamo clan, yet they still demanded you to get married and have a child to keep the lineage going. There was no way in hell you were going to follow their rules.

“What a disgusting father you are, no wonder mother left you,” you commented with a smirk before continuing to walk away to go back to where you were heading. On the other hand, it seemed like someone else wanted to disturb your plans.

“Y/N~”

                                     ꕥ

At this current moment in time, you were standing in front of one of the very few vending machines that were located within Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College wondering what you were going to choose since you were still undecided. Cold Water? Milk tea? Coffee? Maybe a carbonated fruit drink to satisfy your sweet tooth? You weren’t so sure.

“Have you put money in the machine yet honey~?” someone asked you from behind, causing you to quickly turn around to see a tall white-haired figure standing before you with a teasing smile painted upon his face.

“Satoru? Ah...no I haven’t” you muttered as you scratched your cheek with your finger, trying to occupy yourself with something to not look at him. “Let me pay for you then,” Gojo then offered as he reached over to the side, accidentally brushing his arm - causing you to tense up - before he placed some of his coins within the slot to add some currency into the machine before you could even deny his offer.

“I could pay for myself you know, and we’re alone, you don’t have to act,” you stated before sighing in defeat, as you turned back around to decide what you were going to choose once again. “I know,” Gojo commented back to you before gently placing his chin upon your shoulder, leading you to tense up once again from the physical contact before slowing relaxing, “but what type of boyfriend would be I if I didn’t treat you a little?”.

‘Well fake boyfriend Satoru’

                                        ꕥ

“Your family pressuring you again?” Satoru cheerfully asked as he walked beside you, trying to lighten up the tense atmosphere from the conversation that you had with your ‘father’ just a few seconds ago.

“More like the Kamo clan than the L/N clan, get married this, get married that. Is that all I am good for? Marriage? Augh, I just need them to leave me alone, I left for a damn reason,” you ranted as you put your hands in your pockets, restraining yourself from punching something to let out some steam.

“How about I date you then?” Gojo suddenly asked, leading you to look at him with the most wide-eyed expression like he had just said something completely stupid - to which he did - but before you could even augre what he just stated, Gojo quickly began to explain what he meant by his little statement. “What I mean is let’s fake that we’re dating, we deceive everyone that we’re together and the Kamo clan will finally leave you alone once they realise that you are in a relationship with someone from the Gojo clan aka me, they can’t augre with that,”.

Still looking at your colleague with a dumbfounded expression, you turned your head to look in front of you before thinking about what he had just suggested. What Gojo stated to you was somewhat a clever idea. The Kamos family was obsessed with bloodlines and for you to be with Gojo means that they would foolishly believe they can become more powerful. Even though you didn’t physically inherit the blood manipulation curse technique, you still had in somewhere in your veins due to your father meaning they would believe they still have a chance for a powerful heir. However, that would mean you have to announce this to the clan as well as your mother’s clan - which wasn’t much of an issue for her side - it was just too much effort for a fake relationship.

“Satoru that is so much effort, you’re going to have to meet the Kamo clan then,” you commented, after realising the pros and cons of this little ordeal. “I know, but once we end this little fakery of a relationship, they don’t have to know, you don’t have to report your every move to them, remember you left,” Gojo explained back, leading to any worries that you had manifesting to instantly fade away with the wind. 

Taking one last sigh, you turned back to him and nodded. “Fine, let’s fake date Satoru,” you finally declared before taking your hand out in front of him for a handshake, leading to the powerful shaman to take hold of your hand before firmly shaking it, “okay fake-girlfriend! Leave it to me,”

                                ꕥ

Sitting in front of your dad across a table was something you never wished on your worst enemy, you hated that you were back in the four walls that you had escaped from many years ago. However, for some odd reason, when Gojo was by your side, you felt completely safe.

“Since when did this little association between the both of you come to play?” your father asked in a suspicious tone as he eyed both you and Gojo - yet, knowing how greedy your father was for power, you could tell he was delighted at the fact you were ‘together’ with the most powerful jujutsu sorcerer. 

“Ah~ We have been together since our last year at Jujutsu Tech,” Gojo explained as he turned to look at you with a cheeky smile on his face to which you smiled back at him, trying to keep up with the facade of being a fake couple. “And you didn’t inform me this Y/N?” your father then asked to which then you explained, “well, I did leave the clan a year after that, so I had the right to no inform you. After all, I’m not your daughter like you stated beforehand,” 

Angered by your sudden statement, your father immediately slammed his hand on the desk as if the statement wasn’t true at all. “I demanded you to come back, I demanded you to respect the name of the Kamo Clan and this is how you taint it,” you father roared in fury, causing Gojo to put an arm out in front of you as if he was protecting you from anything that could happen to cause you to look at him in shock.

“Technically, Y/N didn’t even taint your name, she took their mother’s, so you’re in the wrong here, don’t do something that you will regret,” Gojo sinisterly threatened the man that was in front of both on you, before taking your hand in his as a way to comfort you - surprising you once again from his actions, yet for some reason, you gripped on his hand somewhat conveying him that you were thankful for him standing up for you.

                                      ꕥ

“Ah Miss Y/N, did you come to see your mother?” a maid asked in a surprised tone, once she noticed that you came out of your designated room with you adjusting your red obi sash around your waist as your wore your family’s kimono, white was light in colour embroidered with the minimalist design of flowers and butterflies - giving you a somewhat soft feminine look, contrasting the portrayal of your character somewhat.

“You know you don’t have to put the ‘Miss’ in front of my name, and I do apologise for the sudden visit, I forgot to inform you all,” you told the maid with a gentle smile, leading to the maid to smile at you back before you then continued with, “Ah, I did come to meet my mother, but have you seen Satoru? Like a tall man with white hair, who is also wearing sunglasses,”. However, before the maid could answer your question.

“Y/N~”

Turning around, you found Gojo walking towards you with your mother by his side, causing you to freeze in shock as you didn’t expect him to go to your mother without you. “I thought we agreed to greet my mother together Satoru,” you commented as you pointed your index finger at him to emphasise your point, only for him to smile at you cheekily before scanning his eyes up and down at your new outfit. “You do look beautiful in your kimono though, is this what you wear when you come back home?” Gojo then asked, to which you nodded at his question - trying to ignore your pending blush being slowly painted in your cheeks - before you quickly greeted your mother, who was watching from the sideline.

“Good Afternoon mom, I apologise for coming to visit you so suddenly,” you said to her, to which your mother softly smiled at you before cupping your cheeks in her hands. “There is no need to apologise, I’m happy that you came back home since you are so busy back at the school, but also I’m happy that your boyfriend introduced himself to me, he is quite a different character must I say,” she commented with a light laugh, causing you to turn to him wondering what he had said to her, only for him to put up a peace sign as if that would answer your wondering thoughts. Although, before you could even vocalise your confusion, your mother linked her arms with yours before guiding you down the corridor to welcome you home.

“I can tell he really cares about you Y/N,” your mother stated, causing you to look at her with a perplexed expression to which she then smiled back at you before beckoning Gojo to follow the both of you to invite him for some sweets and tea that were being prepared.

‘If only you knew mom, if you only knew how much I care about him as well even though this isn’t real’

                                      ꕥ

“You’ve been staring at the canned latte for some time, do you want that one?” 

Suddenly, you instantly snapped out of your thoughts - not realising that you were in a daze - causing you to then immediately click on the button indicating on the mentioned drink. “Ah, sorry I was just wondering if I should go with the strong or light one,” you then answered, trying to hide the fact you were looking back on the moments that you had with Gojo.

“Are you okay?” Gojo then asked as he removed his chin from your shoulder, letting you crouch down to grab the coffee from the dispenser before collecting the coins from the other dispenser to give back to Gojo, only for him to shake his hand and say, “if you need another drink, you can use it,”

‘Is that why he put extra in?’

“Are you sure?” you quietly ask, only for the cheeky shaman to nod his head before he deciding to walk with you to wherever you were heading off too. “Like I said before, what type of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t spoil you a bit?” Gojo then asked once again, causing you to tilt your head in confusion.

“You know we’re not really dating right? We are a fake couple,” you mentioned, as you opened the can of coffee to take a sip after reminding him about the little plan that the both of you came up with to avoid the whole ‘marriage’ drama from the Kamo clan.

However, you didn’t hear an answer from your friend. Only pure silence surrounded the both of you, causing you to be perplexed on why you didn’t instantly hear a sassy comment back from the shaman, leading you to pause and turn your head to the side, only to see the man look at you dead in the eyes with his crystal blue ones.

‘Since when did he?’

“What if I don’t wanna be a fake boyfriend anymore?” Gojo questioned you with an uncharacteristic serious tone, causing you to look at him in bewilderment before quickly coming to the conclusion that he was probably teasing you.

“You mean you want to end this facade? If you want we can, there is kind of no point in continuing this little act,” you replied, as you took a sip of the caffeinated drink causing you to gain a little bit of energy in a short amount of time.

“Y/N, I’m being serious, I don’t want to be your fake-boyfriend anymore, I want this to be real,” Gojo then declared, causing you to suddenly choke on the liquid in shock before letting out a coughing fit as you tried to clear your throat leading to Gojo patting your back to help you out.

“Ha?” you then expressed, not sure on how to react to his declaration as you tried to look for any deception in his eyes. “Oh you are being serious Satoru,” you then commented to which then he nodded as if he didn’t already convince you that he hadn’t already.

Quickly looking away from the man, you were trying to hide the rose hues that slowly was coming upon your face. You thought you were the only one feeling this way. You thought you were alone on this. Ever since that moment when you and Gojo met your father, you always wanted to stay by his side, you felt like you were important, you felt safe, you felt warm. 

It was like what your mother explained to you when you were young, ‘don’t make the same mistake as me Y/N, when you find someone you want to be with, make sure they make you feel safe and protect and not just the ‘butterflies in your stomach feeling’, I want you to feel loved and important, I’m so sorry for putting you through this’

“Y/N, come on say something, I’m not a nervous guy but this is something else you know,” Gojo pleaded as he wasn’t really enjoying the long silence that was going on around both you and him, only for you to suddenly grip his dark blue jacket before pulling him closer to press your face upon his chest as if you were still trying to hide but somewhat trying to express some confidence in what you were planning to do.

“Are you absolutely being serious ?” you then asked, once again asking how serious he was being.

“Absolutely serious,” Gojo then replied as he placed his large hand on the top of your head before caressing your hair, trying to comfort you from your embarrassment.

“Then I don’t wanna be your fake girlfriend anymore….please,” you then murmured as you gripped his jacket more tightly as you confessed your long time thoughts, only to suddenly feel a peck being placed on the crown of your head.

“Of course honey~ let’s become a real couple”

[devil-in-those-eyes]

Temper- Mat Barzal

Hi, guys! Okay, so it isn’t what I had in mind, but i’m hoping you guys like it and maybe even want a part two? But, anyways!

** Gif creds to @miroheyskanen​ !

~~

           Athletes could get really testy, they all had some sort of angry streak when it came to losing. They had problems with losing because they were all insanely competitive, it was exceptionally hard when it was a significantly bad loss.

You were pretty new to this team, only been assigned to the Islanders for a few months now after being switched from the Rangers, but you were pretty sure you had never seen athletes talk to you the way Mat Barzal just snapped at you.

           The whole thing kind of came out of left field, like a bitch slap and made your head spin. It made you confused for two reasons. The first because all you did was ask if Mat felt like the loss had to do with them going from playing a game a little over twenty four hours ago to playing Tampa, while Tampa had a few days off to recover. You figured Mat would be testy anyways, I mean he slammed his hockey stick into the glass multiple times before breaking it, but the way he snapped at you was over the top.

           Second reason was because you and Mat had become more than the typical athlete journalist relationship, if you’d even call it that. You had gotten to the point of having personal conversations, he stopped you outside of the locker room and walked you to your car. He even asked you to come out for drinks with him and Anthony, but after this, it kind of seemed stupid.

           You knew forming relationships with athletes was like a huge no-no. The sports world for journalism was mainly men and you had proved yourself and worked up the ladder, getting to the Rangers and now the Islanders. You never wanted to be one of those girls ruled by your emotions in all aspects of life, and your job was the one place where you could kick ass and show the men that you could compete with them.

           Except now, you felt like a moron. Wounded by Mat’s words laced with anger, your jaw clenched and eyes narrowed at him. Embarrassment flooded you and you tried to keep your cheeks from filling with a rosy color as you realized everyone else heard the tone because all the reporters fell silent and slowly looked at you.

           Mat called on a different reporter and he stumbled over his words, struggling to sound like he hadn’t heard it while you looked to your left to find the eyes of Anthony, who stood with his captain, Anders Lee, while both of them watched you. Their eyes were wide, eyebrows lifted and the conversation paused.

           Okay, so it wasn’t just in your head.

           You managed to take notes through your annoyance, getting just barely enough to write your column tomorrow, and walked away from Mat without another glance.

           “Someone was angry, wasn’t he?” A man whispered to you as you walked out of the locker room.

           You hummed, not offering anything more. The other journalists walked away while you felt your phone vibrate in your purse. For a few fleeting milliseconds, while you reached in your purse to grab your phone, you wondered if it was Mat texting you but you scoffed at yourself and pulled your phone out.

           It was just your best friend, wondering what time you’d be home and if you wanted to order some late night dinner while you worked on your article and sent it in to work. You texted her, saying you’d be home soon and to order whatever.

           “Y/N, wait up.” Anthony appeared out of the locker room, you turned to see him jogging towards you in just his compression shorts and a clean shirt.

           “Hey,” you breathed through a smile. “Great game, Tito.”

           “He’s just angry,” Anthony blurted out, nodding his head at a teammate that passed you guys.

You wanted to forget it even happened, you just wanted to get back to your job where athletes were just that, not friends. So, your eyebrows pulled together, ready to play coy but Anthony licked his bottom lip.

           “Barzy, he’s just angry. I mean, we all are. We thought we were prepared and we just got our asses handed to us,” Anthony cut you off from saying anything. He grimaced, “don’t take it personally, okay?”

           Anthony was sweet, a total dork and could make you smile without even really trying and you knew he was just trying to keep the waters calm. Your phone buzzed in your hands, reminding you that your best friend was waiting at home for you, so you touched his arm and squeezed it.

           “Great game, Tito. See you next game.” You smiled.

           “We’re gonna go for drinks after the next game,” Anthony said, trying to keep you there. You weren’t sure why because you both knew Mat wouldn’t be talking to you any time soon, not that you really felt like talking to him either. “I know Mat asked you to come, I just wanna make sure you’re gonna come.”

           “I don’t know,” you said, stepping away from him and waving your phone. “I gotta head out.”

           Anthony’s shoulders sagged, “Alright, Bye, Y/N.”

           By the time you got home, you had sit and stewed in your annoyance and felt it grow into more of a type of anger. You never asked Mat, or Anthony, for special treatment. You never talked their performance or games outside of the post game interviews, so why did Mat have to snap at you? It was a simple question, basically asking if them being exhausted from their prior series against the Canucks had anything to do with it. Jesus, it was a yes or no question.

           You got your article done with a glass of wine and take out. It was published the next morning and you went to work forgetting about how Mat looked at you like you were just an annoying journalist who was wasting his time, until your friend sent you a video of said postgame interview.

           Good. GOD. Moody, much?

           You thumbs upped her message and went on with your day.

           When your day ended, you were surprised to see text messages from Anthony and Mat. Anthony asked if you wanted to grab coffee tomorrow morning after his morning skate, while Mat asked if you wanted to come over for a movie night with him and Anthony.

           Huh, must be over his temper tantrum.

           You left him on read and told Anthony you might be able to slip out of work for an hour.

           You figured it was best if you went back to just being the journalist for your company, maybe everyone was right when they told you to not form personal relationships. You squashed those butterflies that you used to get whenever Mat smiled at you, or texted you a funny meme, or a snapchat you got when he went to your favorite café. You didn’t want to think about how you started fantasizing about him as more than an athlete because then that implied you got feelings when you promised yourself it wouldn’t happen.

           By the end of the game the next night, the boys had recovered and seemed to be in better spirits as you stood in the locker room. They had just come off of 2 goal lead and the locker room was bursting with smiles, congratulatory hand shakes and laughs.

           Tonight, you decided to be apart of Anthony’s interview, who continually cracked jokes and seemed be unfocused on the interview. As you asked Anthony a question, you could help the burning in the back of your head, the feeling like someone was watching you, so after you finished recording Anthony’s answer you turned your head to see Mat’s eyes.

           Mat had his own group of reporters asking him questions, but when you finally looked at him, he smiled gently, like he always did when he was trying to be polite inside the locker room and not let on that secretly, you were his favorite.

           Mat would never admit it to you, because it had taken you this long to agree to even meeting him and Anthony for a late night drink, but he always looked forward to post-games just because he got to stare at you. You always looked pretty in your favorite jeans and shirt, hair either pulled back and off your face or falling naturally and tucked back behind your ears. His hand always itched to push the strands off of your neck, always wishing for the day he could stand close to you without you second guessing and stepping away.

           As your lips twitched into a half smile, he realized it wasn’t meeting your eyes like it usually does, but the second you turned back to Anthony, you wore a bright smile. He felt a pang in his chest, something resembling jealousy but he quickly squashed it because he knew his best friend didn’t see you like that, like how Mat saw you.

           Mat managed to get through the interviews without staring at you too hard, and by the time Anthony and Anders let you go, the other reporters and journalists had walked out so Mat easily grabbed your wrists and pulled you to a stop.

           “Hey, you,” Mat breathed, smiling softly.

           “Hey, good game.” You answered.

           Your smile was… too professional. It was small and tight and how you used to smile when you first started here a few months ago. It took Mat weeks to pull a real smile out of you, one where your eyes twinkled and his heart clenched inside his chest. You always told him good game, even if it was a shit game, but tonight was just different somehow.

           “I, uh,” Mat stumbled over his words as you pulled your wrist from his grasp. He felt like he was sixteen again, talking to his crush after school. “Can you come out tonight? Tito said he asked you.”

           “Can’t,” you answered, stepping away. “Have a good night, Mat.”

           Another pang inside his chest as your words went cold, this time it was disappointment and hurt. Confused, Mat just stood there was you walked away from him, not even looking back over your shoulder to give Mat some sort of sign that all he needed to do was push for you to come out.

           He felt like he was back to square one with you.

           “Not so much fun when it’s you, eh?” Matt Martin asked him as he still stood there, watching your figure walk away.

           “What’re you talking about?” Mat asked, turning to face his teammate.

           Matt smirked and shrugged, heading into the showers. Annoyed, Mat went up to Tito. “Why is Y/N so pissed at me?”

           “Dude,” Tito’s eyes glanced to his left, at Anders, before looking back at him. “Where were you two days ago?”

           Clueless, Mat shook his head.

           “Maybe you should watch your interview.” Tito said, sighing and turning to grab his clothes out of his bag.

[longitudinalwaveme]

Arkham Files: Pied Piper

Hugo Strange: From the patient files of Dr. Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum. Patient: Hartley Rathaway, alias Henry Darrow; also known as the Pied Piper. The patient shows signs of depression and general emotional distress, but I have not yet been able to give him a full psychiatric evaluation. Session One. So, young man, your name is Hartley Rathaway? 

Pied Piper: Yes, sir. 

Hugo Strange: Any connection to Osgood and Rachel Rathaway, the billionaire publishing magnates? 

Pied Piper: They’re my parents, sir. 

Hugo Strange: (Surprised) You mean to tell me that you’re that Hartley Rathaway? The boy who was set to inherit a fortune as large as the GDP of some small countries? 

Pied Piper: I’m the only Hartley Rathaway! Ever! Nobody but my parents would stick a child with a name like that! 

Hugo Strange: So if that is who you are, young man, why in the world would you have ever decided to put on a costume, call yourself the Pied Piper, and embark on a life of crime using weaponized musical instruments? 

Pied Piper: Because someone had to even the score. 

Hugo Strange: What do you mean, even the score? You had life handed to you on a silver platter. You grew up in a palatial mansion, with servants to tend to your every need. You had the best education money could buy, you traveled all around the world, and you were set to inherit one of the largest fortunes in the country. What injustice could a pampered prince like you possibly have faced? 

Pied Piper: None, sir. I’m not evening the score for myself. I’m evening it for the poor, the downtrodden, the people who through no fault of their own are denied the opportunity to even know that they’ll have a roof over their heads and food in their stomachs. My parents and people like them live in scandalous luxury that they didn’t even earn, and they have the nerve to say that the poor are lazy and selfish! It’s unjust and unfair, and yet everyone turns a blind eye! I...I had to do something! 

Hugo Strange: (A bit taken aback) I must admit, young man, I was not expecting to hear a manifesto from someone of your background. (Pause) I take it that you don’t simply steal for kicks in the way that your file seems to suggest? 

Pied Piper: Not often. Usually, I take the money from people who won’t even notice it’s gone and give it to people who really need it. 

Hugo Strange: So you think of yourself as some sort of Robin Hood, then? Stealing from the rich to give to the poor? 

Pied Piper: I wouldn’t have thought to put in those specific terms, but...I suppose I do, yes.

Hugo Strange: Why not just give away your own money, Mr. Rathaway? Certainly you have access to more than enough of it. 

Pied Piper: (Laughs quietly) I tried that once. When my parents found out, it became part of the argument that got me disowned, disinherited, and thrown off of their estate without a dollar to my name. 

Hugo Strange: Your parents disowned you? 

Pied Piper: Yes. They even paid the FBI to give me the identity of Henry Darrow just so I could never be traced back to them. If the Flash and that brilliant young reporter hadn’t stumbled onto the connection between me and my parents somehow, Hartley Rathaway probably would have been effectively erased from existence. 

Hugo Strange: That does at least explain why your file gives you two entirely separate names and histories. I admit that that had been puzzling me, Mr. Rathaway. 

Pied Piper: Well, now you know. (Pause) How did I end up in Arkham Asylum, Doctor? Even if someone had become convinced that I was mentally ill, Breedmore Psychiatric Hospital would seem to be much more conveniently located. 

Hugo Strange: It would be. In fact, there are any number of prisons and psychiatric facilities that would be more conveniently located to the area of the Twin Cities than Arkham Asylum...but through a series of judicial and political decisions to which I was not privy, somehow all of you “Rogues” were placed under my watch. (Pause) So, Mr. Rathaway, you went from being one of the wealthiest and most privileged people in the country to being homeless and penniless. I imagine that that was not an easy transition for you. 

Pied Piper: No, it wasn’t. Although the panic didn’t kick in right away. It wasn’t until I used my sonic technology to steal forty thousand dollars from my parents’ company, and then gave the money away to people in need, that my anger subsided and it really hit me that I was impoverished. All I had left was my hypnotic flute and the silly costume I had made out of my mother’s nice shower curtains in order to disguise myself while I was stealing money from her company, and I was panicking. Which in hindsight is probably why I made the stupid decision to hypnotize a group of random crooks into becoming a sort of gang, told them that my name was the Pied Piper, and tried to become their leader. One of them probably would have ended up shooting me within a couple of days, but because my sonic abilities were quite unusual, the Flash showed up to arrest us before I got myself killed. They went to prison, but for some reason that was never adequately explained, I was released from the police station without even being booked. 

Hugo Strange: How could that have happened, Mr. Rathaway? 

Pied Piper: My parents’ money, of course. They hadn’t had the time to create a false identity for me yet, so I suspect that they simply bribed the police station into letting me go so that no one would know that the former heir to the Rathaway empire was now a common crook. 

Hugo Strange: And what happened after that?

Pied Piper: I almost starved to death. 

Hugo Strange: And what saved you? 

Pied Piper: Well, I had sat down on a park bench and was sort of waiting to die when I suddenly came face-to-face with a pair of blue pixie shoes that were floating four feet off the ground. The pixie shoes were attached to a blonde kid in a garish leotard. He asked me if I was the kid with the magic flute, and when I said yes, he told me that he was the Trickster and invited me to stay with him in his apartment for a couple days. I agreed when he told me that he also had food. During the month I stayed with him, he gave me a crash course on how to survive on the streets...although most of the other Rogues insist that I must not have learned very much from it. 

Hugo Strange: Why is that, Mr. Rathaway? 

Pied Piper: Because I still give away basically all the money that I steal. Most of it goes to the poor, and the rest of it goes to my parents, to pay them back for the money they spent on trying to mold me into someone I could never be. That way, they can stop complaining about all the money they wasted on me. (Pause) Captain Cold insists that if I had any sense, I would keep some of the money for myself, but why would I do that? I spent my early life in unimaginable luxury. It’s only fair that I go without to help the poor now. 

Hugo Strange: So you’re martyring yourself for the sins of your parents? 

Pied Piper: I’m not martyring myself. I’m just doing what needs to be done. 

Hugo Strange: Sacrificing your own financial well-being for the sake of others is not healthy, Mr. Rathaway. With a philosophy like yours, I’m surprised that you’re even still alive. (Pause) Incidentally, how have you managed to survive multiple stints in prison? A skinny, sheltered ex-aristocrat like you would seem to be an obvious target. 

Pied Piper: Which is why I don’t call attention to myself whilst incarcerated. You’d be surprised how effective keeping your head down and your mouth shut can be. (Pause) Well, that, and Captain Cold has made it pretty clear that if anyone messes with me, they’re also messing with him. And almost no one is willing to get on Captain Cold’s bad side. 

Hugo Strange: So your status as one of the Rogues protects you? 

Pied Piper: Yes, sir. (Pause) But if I really had to, I think I could survive without them. I may be a sheltered ex-aristocrat, but I’m also a master hypnotist. I didn’t take up the name Pied Piper for nothing, Dr. Strange. 

Hugo Strange: Yes, your file does go into great detail about the effectiveness of your hypnotic instruments. When you first arrived on the scene, there were even some people who thought that you might be the Pied Piper of the folktales, due not only to your powers but also the fact you seemed to appear and disappear almost at will, without ever really getting caught (Pause) Of course, from what you’ve told me, I can guess that the explanation for your remarkably infrequent imprisonments was due to your parents’ wealth, rather than to any magical powers.

Pied Piper: Those rumors were actually quite helpful. When people thought I might be magical, they put considerably less effort into tracking me, and that gave me a lot more freedom to do things like volunteering at homeless shelters and food pantries. 

Hugo Strange: But you are not magical, Mr. Rathaway. You are only a man. 

Pied Piper: I know that, Dr. Strange. If I had magical powers, I’d be a lot farther along in my goal of helping uplift the downtrodden than I am. 

Hugo Strange: Mr. Rathaway, that was not what I was trying to tell you. Wanting to help others is an admirable goal, but the methods which you are taking to pursue it are decidedly unhealthy. You are a human being with human needs, and you are discounting them all in your desperation to prove that you are worth loving. While I believe that you honestly want to help others, I also believe that there is a part of you that is still trying to earn the love which it sounds like you were denied as a child. You’re hoping that if you sacrifice enough, you will finally be accepted as worthy...but you are giving too much. 

Pied Piper: Too much? 

Hugo Strange: Yes, Mr. Rathaway. Too much. (Pause) Think of it this way. If you starve to death because you have no money to pay for food, you will no longer be around to feed anyone else...and by giving away all of the money you bring in, illicitly or otherwise, that is effectively what you are risking. And it’s certainly what you’re doing to yourself on an emotional level.

Pied Piper: (Quietly) It’s what I was taught to do, Dr. Strange. What I wanted wasn’t important. What I needed wasn’t even important. The only thing that was important was upholding the family name. My parents have always made it quite clear that their love for me was conditional on whether I would sacrifice what I was to be their idea of the perfect heir, and I tried. For eighteen years, I tried, but it was never enough. Not after I’d been born deaf. 

Hugo Strange: Yes, your files mention that. Your files also mention that your deafness was cured thanks to a pair of highly advanced hearing aids, which were created by Dr. William Magnus. The operation cost millions of dollars, and it granted you far more than the normal range of hearing. 

Pied Piper: 14 hertz to 55,000 hertz. I hear more sounds than a dog. (Pause) And all the nasty things that people whisper behind my back when they think I can’t hear. 

Hugo Strange: Are you glad that you were given these hearing aids, Mr. Rathaway? 

Pied Piper: Very much so. Without them, I’d never have known what music sounded like. (Pause) But to be honest? If I had to choose between being deaf and knowing that my parents loved me, and being able to hear and knowing that it was entirely because my parents didn’t want the social embarrassment of having a disabled son, I’d choose the world of silence. And I hate silence.

Hugo Strange: Mr. Rathaway, you have spent your entire life sacrificing your own needs, either for the needs of others or for your parent’s desire for a so-called ‘perfect’ heir. That is why the request I am going to make of you will be so difficult. (Pause) Between now and our next session, I want you to write down something that you really want to do. Not something you think you should want to do; something that you actually want to do. 

Pied Piper: But-

Hugo Strange: Mr. Rathaway, you will never be able to achieve healing until you recognize that your wants and needs are just as valid as anyone else’s. You will not be able to care for others in a healthy way until you learn to care for yourself. 

[bastillia]

First Lesson (NSFW)

Read on Ao3

Summary: Commander Kylo Ren needs a competent officer to accompany him on an important mission, and he has requested you specifically. When he discovers that you don't know how to pilot a TIE fighter, he takes it upon himself to fix that. Turns out cockpits are good for other things, too. 

Rating: Explicit

Words: 7.4k

Content Warnings: possible dubcon, choking, spanking, inappropriate use of the Force, rough sex, minimal aftercare, cockwarming… yeah. 

A/N: Wow so this is officially my first published work after lurking in the fandom for a good 4 years??? Holy shit. I'm super nervous, but hey, I've got to start somewhere! I've had this silly idea gnawing around in my little rat brain for fucking ever, so it feels good to finally pound it out (heh). I have... literally never written smut before, sooo I welcome any feedback. Thank you for reading this!

"Take a fighter. Follow me to the surface."

The commander strode powerfully over the gangway, dismissing you with a flick of his gloved hand as he approached the yawning cockpit of his TIE silencer. Engineers scrambled aside like rats to sunlight as he moved, conveniently parting a clear path for you to follow the rippling tower of black robes across the platform. You stumbled and jogged slightly to keep up, your gaze shifting nervously along the sinister row of TIE fighters. They sat anchored to the dock, still as a cavalry line at dawn, each black durasteel destrier awaiting its chance to charge into battle. But there was no impending fight here. Why weren't you taking the command ship?

"Commander. Sir, w-wai-" You collided with an unyielding wall of black, having not been looking where you were going. Ren had stopped and was now turned to look at you, posture stiff, eyes burning with impatience. You straightened sharply and jumped back, shying away from your next words as your cheeks burned under the dark beam of his stare.

"I... I don't know how to fly one. S-sir." You managed to say, and your heart plummeted into your stomach with the admission. It seemed childish. Silly. But-- what would he think of you now? You had always admired the commander more than you'd ever admit to your peers, and if you were honest, you found him wildly, dangerously attractive. There was something about the way he barely held back. The fire that shone behind his dark eyes like they were the only living part of a face cast in carbonite, that made you dare to wonder what he would look like if he let go. The power that radiated from him was always so visceral, yet restrained. Except, of course, when he had his outbursts. You only ever saw the aftermath: a shredded, glowing control panel, a dazed and heaving officer slumped against the floor after being Force-choked within an inch of death over a particularly inconvenient mistake. You'd be lying if you said such unbridled evidence of his power didn't stoke a flame of intrigue. And perhaps something else.

You had only recently been promoted to lieutenant general, but you had a feeling Kylo Ren had watched you closely for some time. You saw it in the shift of his eyes whenever you passed him by, the particular burn of his stare when you delivered reports on behalf of your superior general. You'd never known a commander to hold such a piqued interest in the drabble of stormtrooper reconditioning scores. Or why he had to fix his gaze so intently on you that you could swear he was trying to turn your blood molten. 

You knew that you were more than competent in your position, yet you couldn't quell a desire to impress the commander. Whether it was with your sharp aptitude for command, tactical maneuvers, or securing risky strategic alliances, you always tried to establish presence. To command the room, intimidate both your peers and subordinates with your sharp wits, and earn those rare, blood-branding stares of approval from Kylo Ren when your steel confidence washed a hush over the room. What you'd never admit was how that steel later melted down into gushing whimpers under the forge of your sheets, imagining the kinds of things that your commander might do to you. 

You'd had to forcibly smother your elation when you received the order for your aid specifically on this mission, not even knowing until a few minutes ago that it was you, and only you, that Kylo Ren had requested to come along. It sank like a cold blade into your gut now to know that your ineptitude would make him think less of you. The knife twisted with the realization that you would be left behind on the only opportunity you might ever get to spend some time alone with the commander.

He looked at you for a moment, expression unreadable. How had your command training not included basic piloting by default? A brief flash of anger lit his eyes and set his jaw tight as he thought about whoever's incompetence he would have to deal with later when he reviewed the training program. But for now, there was no time. 

Your eyes were fixed to the metal grate of the floor, stomach knotting, as you steeled a calm mask over the disappointment that tightened your throat. You began to speak, your voice coming out smaller than you intended. "I’m sorry, Commander. I will inform mission control that you are in need of--" Before you could finish, Kylo Ren clamped his arm around your waist, pulling you firmly to his body as he leveraged his hips in one fluid motion to drag you with him into the small cockpit of the TIE silencer.

Your brain reeled, a small yelp escaping your lips as your ass landed firmly into his lap, one of his arms anchoring you there while his other hand reached to flick a control above him. Before you could stammer out the question of what the fuck he was doing, the cockpit was already hissing closed around you both. 

"First lesson." 

Your pulse was a flurry. He began to flip the controls absently, looking easily over your head as you awkwardly adjusted yourself on his thighs. The space was so small, there was absolutely no position you could assume that didn't involve your ass planted into his hips, your back against his broad torso, and your calves draped around either side of his ridiculously long legs. Your head spun. The thrusters hummed to life. Fuck. Everything was moving too fast. His gloved hand began to point individually at each control he had just engaged.

"Auxiliary." 

His voice was dead even as he pointed to the first switch on your left, the movement of his arm making his chest ripple under your shoulder blade. Your brain was a mess of thrill and panic. Was this really happening right now? Heat flowed in a river down your spine and pooled in the roiling cauldron of your belly. Whether it wanted to wash you away, or pull you in like a rip current to his body, you couldn’t decide. His hand moved to a lower control panel where the second switch sat, affording you little time to take in what he was saying. 

"Compressor." 

You tried hard to focus on his words, blinking the spinning confusion out of your eyes as you dumbly studied the path his hand had just taken. You blinked again, hard. Auxiliary. Compressor. Okay. You forced yourself to bid the controls to memory, trying to catch up as he moved along. Four adjacent switches to your right had been next. 

"Ignition," 

His gloved finger drew languidly against the curved switch in a way that suddenly made your skin light up against every solid line of his body pressed flush to yours. Your thighs tensed. Heat climbed your neck as you struggled to hold onto a fragile thread of focus. 

"Thrusters." 

He gestured to the final three buttons. Fucking breathe. Ignition, thrusters. Okay. Simple enough. You sobered yourself sternly and nodded your understanding as you flicked your gaze along the control path that started the engines, internally repeating it several times as your heartbeats became distinguishable again. It was quick. Concise. Fitting, you thought, for a state-of-the-art starfighter prototype that might need to get airborne in a hurry. It was certainly far less brain-scrambling than the orchestrations you'd seen performed upon the control panels of freighters to wrangle them towards liftoff. Why don't they label anything in those damn ships anyways?

"Now," Ren’s hands gripped your hips, instantly shattering your moment of composure. Stars, why did he have this effect on you? And why did a part of you never want it to end? He adjusted your seat, pressing you slightly straighter against him, and you could feel the warm, solid contour of his abdomen flex under your spine. You swallowed hard.

"Steering is intuitive." His palms smothered the backs of your hands as he picked them up, guiding them to grasp the vertical steering grips. Your blood felt uncomfortably hot in your veins. He kept his hands wrapped firmly over top of yours, arms encircling you like a gigantic fucking scaffold, coaxing you to lift the handles very slightly upwards. The craft lurched to life in response, and you were suddenly thankful for his hands holding yours steady as your heart threatened to explode from your ribs. 

It was intuitive, you'd give him that, even if your intuition felt starkly absent from your brain at the moment. The body of the craft lifted smoothly, almost sentiently, with the subtle upward press of the handles. Still, the sudden g-force of liftoff sank you firmly into the commander's lap, amplifying an alarming and far too pleasant stir that agitated the pit of your belly. 

You breathed slowly, trying to stay as still as possible on top of him, your brain still coming to grips with what the fuck was occurring right now. You thought maybe you'd had a dream like this once. Come to think of it, the enigmatic commander had starred in many of your most pleasant dreams -- with or without the mask. Oh, stars. You screwed your eyes tight, inwardly cursing your useless fucking brain. Did you really have to think about that right now? You were definitely blushing. A puff of breath hit the back of your neck. Wait- Did he just chuckle? 

You didn't have time to figure out the answer as his gloved hands flexed over the top of yours and your eyes flew open, finding that the fighter was now hovering a comfortable distance from the hangar floor. He pressed your joined hands forward, and the ship responded gorgeously, accelerating towards the mouth of the docking bay in a smooth departure that made your veins flutter with a thrill of adrenaline. Vacuous darkness swallowed the viewport as the Supremacy was left swiftly in your wake, and you released a lungful of air you didn't know you had been holding. An unexpected calmness suddenly blanketed you as everything fell to the periphery. As your wide eyes adjusted to the void, a spattering of stars slowly blinked into view, decorating the expanse. It was... silent. Still. Breathtaking. 

Ren pulled the grips under your hands back like the reins of an obedient steed, and the craft responded as such. The only indication that the fighter had stilled was the slightly quieter hum of the idling ion thrusters vibrating softly through the air of the cockpit. Your respite was brief. The tranquility of space was magnifying your far-from-tranquil realization that you were now decidedly, irreversibly alone with the commander, and your insides folded in half. 

You hardly dared to breathe, let alone move, your senses suddenly augmented and trained sharply onto Kylo Ren as you sat pressed into his lap. His lap. Maker, have mercy. Your clean-pressed uniform suddenly felt tight and stifling around your neck, and you swallowed thickly. 

"Take over." 

He spoke curtly into the silence, almost making you jump as the baritone rumbled close to your ear. Stars, everything he said was a fucking command. You couldn’t deny how much you’d always enjoyed the rich color of his natural, unmodulated voice, taking secret reverence in the way he could paralyze a room with it. Nor could you ignore the way that every word he spoke was now having the opposite effect, riling up that dismayingly persistent heat between your legs. 

He slid his hands off of yours, leaving you in full command of the sleek starfighter. Nerves needled a patchwork in your gut as you stared disconnectedly at your own bare hands gripping the controls. They might as well have been someone else's entirely. Two palms settled over the tops of your thighs, and the gesture pierced all the way to your brain.

By the void, calm the fuck down. You grounded yourself sternly, tightening your grip around the contoured handles and forcing yourself to feel their texture, the ridges that dug into your skin, the tension that rippled up your arms and into your shoulders as you squeezed them. Breathe. There was a reason you'd been promoted so fast: it was your aptitude toward levelness and situational control under pressure. You could do this. Just... treat it like another test. Taking a steadying breath and fixing your brow in determination, you pressed the grips forward. 

If you thought takeoff was intuitive, now that you somewhat had your frayed wits about you, this was like an extension of your own consciousness. The silencer handled like a dream, and you quickly got the hang of its basic movements, almost forgetting your strange predicament as you took surprising delight in steering the agile craft through the vacuum of space. Kylo Ren hardly moved beneath you. He seemed to be letting you feel the ship out on your own, but his hands occasionally flexed over the curve of your thighs, his fingers splaying into a wide grip that pressed heat into your veins. An alarming reminder, each time, that he was paying attention. Always paying attention.

You cut the silencer back towards the Supremacy after a short while, and were surprised to note that the stifling mega class dreadnought seemed much… smaller, from out here. It felt strange, looking upon the massive vessel that encompassed your entire life, whose halls and chambers you had meticulously memorized, as if it were no more than a distant memory. The perspective settled a quiet feeling inside you that you couldn’t quite formulate.

Also in view, and framing the silhouette of the star destroyer impressively, was your ultimate destination. A large planet, twinkling with tiny rivers of light between clouds, and crowned in a halo of white flame from this system's central star. The planet would be the site of your mission, which, you noted -- the commander still hadn't even briefed you on. You funneled the nervous pang at the thought into determination as you caressed the controls again, considerably braver now about handling the craft.

In a moment of spontaneity, you locked the arches of your feet under Ren's calves and accelerated sharply, whipping the silencer into a tight barrel roll. A breathy, delighted laugh swelled in your chest before you could catch it as you righted the ship to its initial orientation again.

"Good," Ren murmured into your hair, a large hand sliding up to your belly as you reined the ship smoothly to a halt. He pressed you slightly tighter to him with a splayed palm, his strong nose grazing your ear, and the responding thrill between your thighs set your brain back to spinning. You suddenly became aware of a firm knot under your seat that you hadn't noticed before, and your breath stopped. You'd been so distracted maneuvering the ship, you couldn't be sure. You cocked your hips slightly, daring to shift against him, and with the movement it was undeniable: Kylo Ren was hard as a rock. 

You gasped, and the moment you tensed, a gloved hand snaked up to slam into your throat and pull you roughly back against a solid chest, breath hot and immediate in your ear. 

"Don't think I haven't noticed..." His voice was dark and dangerous as his free hand slid to your inner thigh, gripping the sensitive flesh there, your airway closed tight. You trembled, pulse galloping, as a spear of adrenaline ignited each of your most primal instincts at once. 

"...How you can hardly keep those eyes to yourself around me." His lips were warm against the shell of your ear as his nose grazed the baby hairs at your temple, the feeling adding a confusing tingle to the sharp claws of terror that gripped you. Your pulse was deafening, and you struggled to find either breath or coherence under his iron grip. His hand on your throat loosened slightly with a creak of leather, and the sweetness of air crashed into your lungs.

"I could say the same," you breathed without thinking, suddenly wondering if you actually had a deathwish. His hand flexed threateningly on your throat and you flinched, but he simply breathed a dark chuckle into the hollow of your ear. Oh. That made you fucking shiver. 

"Observant." He slowly ground his hips up into you, more or less fucking his prominent erection against your ass. Needles of fear laced confusingly into a wash of desire as a soft noise escaped you, and you bit your lip to catch it in its tracks as he continued. "But I know every thought you've ever had about me, lieutenant." Oh, stars. Fuck. You knew he’d paid attention to you, but not that closely.

"It's pathetic, really… " He continued to grind torturously against you, his broad hand pinning your thigh the same way a predator might hold down a piece of live prey that it wants to toy with for a while before killing. "...The way you try so hard to impress me." His growl bottomed out on the emphasis with a decisive roll of his hips that sent an electric shock careening to your core. You squirmed against him, but his grip on your neck and leg had you on an axis that allowed precious little freedom. His hips continued their disciplined pace as he spread his knees slightly, forcing your own to follow, and his thumb traced electricity into the tender patch of thigh just below your most intimate parts. You clenched at the closeness of it.

"But…” he purred, tone shifting slightly.

“The things that cross your mind at night?" You froze with dread, wishing the ice in your spine would somehow percolate into the space around you, freeze it into stasis so that he wouldn't continue with his next words. But Kylo Ren was a furnace, burning the unlimited fuel of your fear, and he rumbled on. 

"When you touch that wet little cunt, and think about me?" He lifted his palm away briefly - the predator's illusion of mercy - before delivering a hard, stinging smack straight to your inner thigh. Your cunt convulsed. 

"Filthy."

A silent pause filled the cockpit, allowing both the word and the impact to sink into your nerves before he slowly circled his glove across the tingling flesh under his hand. Your bones went gelatinous, and, stars, you whimpered. It was a sound so foreign to even your own ears, that you startled yourself. 

His straining cock pulsed against the curve of your ass, and he swore darkly, sliding his hand on your thigh up to cup your sex through the fabric of your pants. You were already wet and aching, you could feel it, but the slight pressure of his hand over your sensitive heat drove your need to a frenzy. Another whine leaked unbidden from your lips. 

“Tell me, lieutenant, how do you prefer me?” His voice was cruel and dark, drawing out your torment as he began to tease your slit with a pressure so light you thought you might die on the spot. 

“With, or without the mask?” He pressed down, rolling his forefinger over your clit in a firm motion that sent sparks into your brain. Your mouth fell open in an obscene moan that echoed around the cockpit. Kylo Ren stiffened, tightening his grip on your throat and stilling the pressure on your aching bud.

He didn't have to say anything for you to know in your gut that an answer was required. Your stomach quivered. This was his game, and you were going to have to play at it if you wanted any of your deepest, most secret desires to come to fruition now. And stars, you wanted it bad. You found a few breaths, collecting fragments of your voice. 

"Any w-way you'd have me, C-commander." Your voice was hardly intact, but you managed to breathe the words out through your daze of terror and need, finally pushing your own ass back into the motion of his hips. He released a warm huff of breath into your ear, seemingly pleased. Thank the Maker. 

"That's right."

His soft hair dusted your ear as he dipped to latch a hot kiss into your neck, pulling your head slightly aside for better access. His tongue was molten and wet against your skin, and the feeling sank straight to your core. You reeled and whined as he sucked a bruise into your throat, taking his time tasting you, his hand over your pants drawing an embarrassing volume of wetness from your aching cunt already. You dropped your hands beside you and sunk your nails into the fabric over his thighs, need overflowing from your skin and into his body. 

Kylo Ren sucked a breath through his teeth and slipped the hand on your throat upwards, gripping your jaw instead and pushing the leather pad of his forefinger through your lips. You accepted it a little too eagerly, sucking it in delicately and running your tongue across the ridges in the supple material as you relished the expensive taste. He hummed and slid a second thick digit into your mouth as his lips and teeth continued to worry the tender skin of your neck, and you were sure you would bear the dark purple evidence of his possession for at least a week. You didn't care. 

His ministrations had your body pliant and wanting in no time, and your thighs had involuntarily begun to relax, falling wider around each side of his lap even as the sharp edge of a control panel dug into your leg. You felt the rigid hilt of the saber on his hip as well, a sensation that paralyzed you for a moment with a new spike of fear and thrilling desire. He ascended from your neck with a sharp nip. 

"So eager, lieutenant." He clicked his tongue once and landed a sharp spank straight to the mound of your pussy. It made you jump, and clench hard with a small, leather-muffled yelp. He deftly switched hands, removing his fingers from your mouth as his other hand closed around your neck. His moistened digits dipped below the waistband of your pants, and you felt his own breaths quicken underneath your shoulders, exciting you. The smooth, warm leather slid easily down your folds, drawing a gasp from you as he collected and spread your arousal. Now, this, you had definitely dreamed about before. He circled slowly across your clit, slicking it over in a motion that sparked white ecstasy through your nerve endings, and you whined pathetically. 

"What would your superiors think," Kylo Ren's deep, mocking voice dripped through you as he slid one finger down to tease your entrance. Your hips bucked, trying in vain to draw him in. "If they knew what a desperate little whore you are for your commander?" 

Your brain stuttered then. An involuntary smirk pulled at your lips as you conjured the image of your superior general, and how his eyes always seemed to darken when they wandered a little too far down your uniform. You didn't consider the fact that your mind was on full display to Ren before the brat center of your brain produced one clear thought. 

They'd envy my commander.

You bit your tongue hard the second the thought formed, as if you could banish it with the flash of pain, hoping desperately that he hadn't read your mind. But the way that Ren’s whole body went rigid suggested otherwise. Maker damn your smart ass. 

His hand fisted into your hair, wrecking your neat bun, and he wrenched your head to the side, forcing you to look up at him. Your brows knitted together in pain, but you dared not whine about it as you met his stare. His eyes were black saucers, clouded with such a tenebrous fury and lust that it made your walls flutter in time with your stomach.  

"Is that so?" The ice in his voice squeezed your veins. 

Gone was all that confidence that you prided yourself on in your profession, all the poise and tact and sharpness of wit. It slipped as easily as water through your fingers now as you drowned in the inky depths of his stare, fear anchoring your words to your diaphragm with no means of escape. 

Ren studied you, embers flaring in the pits of those live irises, framed by the beautiful stone hearth of his face. He moved your head back and forth a bit by his grip in your hair. You winced, but your muscles might as well have been liquid, unable to resist him in the slightest. He was testing your pliancy, considering. 

"Open your mouth." 

There was no warmth, no tease behind the words, and as if they flowed straight into your neurons directly, you obeyed. Your jaw fell open, your pink tongue pushing slightly against the pillow of your lower lip as it rested over your bottom teeth. He spat into your mouth, holding your stare in the tight space as… Oh. He sank two thick fingers straight into your soaking core, stretching you full, holding them rooted inside you. You might as well have been vibrating. 

"Swallow." 

The command was deadly. You snapped your jaw shut and complied, heart thrumming with fear and a hot, blooming need originating from the delicious ache that now filled your walls but refused to move. You whined, trying weakly to shift your hips for any amount of friction on his hand, but his hold on you tightened, immobilizing you. 

"Impudence will get you nothing." He uttered warningly, never breaking your stare as his fingers began to pump slowly, agonizingly inside of you. You could feel yourself dripping around him now as the ridged leather of his gloves did something delicious to your walls. "Don't you want to come, little whore?" 

You were putty in his lap. "Yes, Commander, sir." You managed to groan out quietly, embracing the pain that screamed through your scalp. His plump, gorgeous lips were parted slightly, a signal of desire to underlie the tempest of his stare. You relaxed more into his grip, hoping your show of submission would drive him just a little more wild, just a little closer to... Yes.

He yanked you closer and stroked his hot tongue into your mouth in a fucking vulgar kiss that spun your brain like a top. You suppressed a sigh as the taste of him filled you, his plush lips divine and remarkably soft against your mouth as you melted into the heat of his possessive kiss. He jerked you away by your hair long before you'd had your fill of his taste, a thin string of spit connecting you as you squeaked a pathetic sound. Your disappointment was fleeting, though, because his fingers were now curling faster against a heavenly spot inside of you that was beginning to coil you tight. 

"Then be good." 

You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, bit down, and nodded as well as you could with his fingers rooted into your follicles. He watched the ecstasy blossom across your face as his thumb began to pass in quick circles over your sensitive clit. A cry fell from your lips as your pleasure began to overtake you, his fingers building you towards a crescendo that threatened to split you clear in half with a galaxy between. You didn't even have to try to keep your mind blank now as he consumed your every nerve ending in rippling pleasure, and soon you were barreling towards the event horizon of climax with every stroke of his digits and every slick pass of leather over your delicate pearl of nerves. Sparks flowed like hot plasma to your extremities as your walls began to flutter tight. You whined the warning of it as your brows drew together in restraint, pleading silently for the commander to send you halfway to hyperspace with the orgasm that teetered in your core. 

"That's right, cum for me, little whore." His voice was harsh and cruel and delicious and everything your reeling brain needed to send you barreling over the precipice. Your orgasm split you, blanching your vision as your walls slammed down around his fingers and you sobbed out the waves of your release. He didn't slow, drawing out your climax to an impossible length as each clench sent you spinning and wailing again. Ren groaned and cursed under his breath as he watched you come apart, leaning on the familiar edge of desperate self control as his stiff cock twitched violently under the confines of his trousers.

He slowed and withdrew his hand from your pants, allowing you to come down with shallow breaths. He brought the hand up to taste you slowly from the glistening leather of his fingers, eyes never leaving yours, and the sight made your insides combust. He hummed a low, appreciative sound before shoving the cum-slicked digits roughly into your mouth. The sweet tang of your juices flooded your senses as he sat you back up against him, such that you faced the viewport again. Impossible as it realistically was, it suddenly felt as if the entire Supremacy may as well have just watched you cum like a trained whore around Kylo Ren's fingers. The thought tickled your belly as you laved your tongue over his glove, still warm from your cunt, your body thrumming with the high of post-orgasmic ecstasy as you diligently cleaned the ridges. Your insatiable pussy clenched hard when you felt his length grind against your ass, reminding you of its presence, and you suddenly ached to be filled again. You whimpered into his hand as you rolled your hips.

"You want my cock?" His voice was ragged in your ear, hardly restrained as he fucked his bulge against you. You nodded with an obscene whine, clutching the sides of his thighs and using them as leverage to grind yourself into his throbbing length. He cursed. 

"Filthy girl."

Ren released you, withdrawing his fingers from your mouth and hair, and you collapsed back against his chest, panting. He shoved at the waistband of your pants, and with a thrill, you lifted your hips as far as you could to allow him to yank them down around your thighs, panties and all. 

He propped you forward slightly, bringing a hand behind you to wrestle with the clasp of his own trousers. He unleashed his cock and sat you back over it, so that it rested thickly between the flesh of your thighs, flush with the swollen line of your wet slit. You looked down and gulped. Stars, he was big. Not that you expected any different -- you'd be the first to admit that this man carried himself like he was packing. Still, you couldn't suppress a twinge of nerves as you looked down at the fat head of him, swollen beautifully at the end of a thick shaft and leaking a bead of pre cum between your thighs. He rocked his hips up, and the thick, velvety length of his cock parted your lips, coating the top of his shaft in your wetness as it slid against your tender folds.

You whined, your walls screaming to be filled, to be stretched, and you strained your pelvis down towards his dick, but the angle was all wrong for you to have any control. His glove snaked into your hair and fisted it roughly, yanking you immobile again as you gasped. 

"Beg." 

Your pussy throbbed, dignity a distant echo in your brain as you keened and clenched around nothing. You'd never been known to beg for anything in your life, but with the way that every nerve ending in your body felt like it was curling towards him, trying to take root, to feel him in every way possible, you were sure you'd do anything to earn his cock now.

"P-please-" it came out in a whisper, your voice absent from your chest, and he jostled you by your scalp sharply. Pain shot through your nerves, somehow only kindling the flames of need that were licking up your spine and you yelped, the roughness punching your voice back into you.

"I can't fucking hear you." He growled through his teeth, breath crackling in his throat as he fought his own restraint. The sound shot a thrill through you. Oh, you were gone. 

"Ple-ase, s-sir, please f-fuck me," you moaned louder, and your voice sounded foreign through the ring in your ears. Your thighs strained against the hobble of your waistband as your body tried to spread and arch back for him like a bitch in heat. Thoroughly carried away, heady pleas continued to pour from your mouth. "I n-eed your cock in me, Com-commander, please." He huffed a pleased sound, pulling you back until his lips grazed your ear. 

"Good girl."

He released your hair and gripped your hips hard, lifting you up just enough for the head of his cock to slide down towards your entrance. You found yourself pressing your palms eagerly into the seat, pushing yourself up to give your commander better access. You tipped your hips until you felt the swollen head of him perfectly align with your soaked entrance, and-- Oh, fuck.

Even thoroughly lubricated with your own cum, it was a tight fit as he began to sink you down. You whimpered as the angle forced you to take the entirety of him, struggling to relax your tight walls through your descent. You were sure you'd never taken a man nearly this big, sure that your body might break open around him, and yet you were determined to withstand his challenge. He hissed slowly through his teeth as he buried into you inch by steady inch, until you finally sat flush with his lap again, keening from the pleasant sting of complete fullness. 

Ren choked on a stifled groan as you reached the hilt of him, his grip bruising your waist as he held you there for a moment. He shifted you both forward, allowing him to brace you up with his arms, and pumped his hips once slowly to test the position. The feeling of his thick cock sliding tight against your walls until it pressed your cervix was as obscene as it was delicious, and as he buried himself again, you couldn't hold back the wanton moan that tore itself from your diaphragm. 

"Fuck," You heard Ren mutter raggedly behind you as he adjusted his grip. He began to rut his hips up into you at a punishing tempo, and your thoughts evaporated as his cock slammed over and over into the epicenter of your core. You cried out, voice hitching from his pace and ferocity, as you wildly clutched at the side of a control panel for stability. Somehow the pain of taking him over and over began to morph into blinding oblivion, and the viewport swam before your eyes as you lost yourself in the furious rhythm of his cock. 

Ren grabbed your neck and arched you back against his chest, slowing his pace enough to allow shards of air to fight back into your starved lungs. The slower thrusts, the slick feeling of every ridge and vein of him, sent a spike of voltage through your limbs that jump started your senses again. 

"Was I wrong to assume you could handle me, lieutenant?" He purred breathily as he slowed to nearly a stop, though clearly not intending to cease his torment altogether. You whined your dissent and tried to roll your hips down into him, hoping to fuck yourself on his cock, to feebly prove that you could take him. "No?" His voice dripped warm with mockery. "We'll see." 

His grip anchored you fast. You gasped, almost panicking for a moment as a foreign pressure began to flit and squeeze around your clit. It wasn't his hand. One was controlling your neck, the other a vice on your hip. You didn't have much time to register the fact that he was using the Force until his hips were moving again, his cock filling you whole at a steady pace as that strange and wonderful pressure swirled faster at your bud. 

Then suddenly his hand was closing like a leather serpent around your neck, slowly, expertly constricting your pulse. A primal burst of adrenaline blinded you for a moment. He could kill you. It rang between your ears, imploring you to resist, but your body was so pliant, so wholly under the spell of submission, that the thrill melted into something warmer. Something perhaps like trust, but with a much sharper edge as it cut a path through your veins. He squeezed your arteries steadily until your hearing began to fog and inky motes crossed your vision. Pressure swelled in your head, the cockpit beginning to drift away around you until all that grounded you to reality was the steady pumping of the cock inside your cunt and the Force at your clit shooting effervescent waves of pleasure into your darkening brain. 

Just as the cusp of total unconsciousness began to seduce you, the pressure vanished. Ren slammed his length into you, and you gulped a massive breath of air as the Force jetted against your clit. Your orgasm crested hard, and shot you over the edge faster than you'd have ever thought possible as he held you steady and pounded into your core. You screamed as your release tore through your body in a perfect harmonic overtone to the oxygen flooding back into your brain, and the combined relief washed such a powerful bliss through your nerves that in that moment, you felt as if the very fabric of space could part for you.

"That's it, fuck, good fucking girl." Ren’s snarls were filthy and delicious in your ear as he continued to fuck you hard, the pace of his cock refusing to let your body come down from the orgasm. You keened and moaned in an incoherent stupor as he slammed up against a spot inside you that was somehow, impossibly, pushing you towards the edge again already. Another orgasm ripped through you, this one singeing your nerve endings as you felt his thrusts become unsteady. Ren bellowed through gritted teeth as he came, cock pulsing inside you while your quaking walls milked him through his release. He pumped you slowly through your aftershocks, tensing with each clench of your cunt around his oversensitive dick, until your bodies stilled in a tranquil beat of silence and shared breathing.

You didn't know at what point he had wrapped both of his arms around you, but you snapped to the realization that Kylo Ren was now holding you tight, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he came down through shuddering breaths. You blinked, slowly bringing the geometric planes of the viewport back into blurred focus, and then beyond it, the distant Supremacy. 

It hung suspended like a leviathan in the void, a staunch and silent voyeur to the star-shattering sequence of undoing and accretion that you had just experienced here at the hands and cock of your inscrutable commander. You couldn't be totally sure this hadn't all been another dream, but the feeling of him now was so real, so warm, so human in the depth of his breathing and the slight dampness of his skin against yours, that you were sure no version of Kylo Ren you'd ever conjured in your dreams could feel like this. 

You didn't move, didn't dare, but simply felt him encase you, afraid to break whatever spell was holding you in this moment. In a place where maybe, maybe, you could pretend that you weren't just a rank. Or a strategist, or a minuscule pawn in the grander scheme of First Order rule. Here you were a body, yes, but a body that intertwined with something beyond material. Something that laced gently with the threads of humanity behind the frozen carbonite mask of Kylo Ren, which now seemed to thaw for the smallest moment as he held you wrapped in an embrace that could almost be mistaken for tenderness. 

Almost. 

Your high descended on clipped wings as he finally stirred, settling colder in your stomach as he loosened his arms and you waited for whatever would happen now. He was still inside of you, and half-hard at that, but even so, you felt filled to the brim with his cum and stretched tight around him. Your body bemoaned the idea of vacancy, but if time was up, then it was up. You weren't about to push it. You started to move, shifting to lift off of him.

"No. Stay." He murmured against your neck, and you almost questioned whether your brain had shorted out and you'd misheard him. He coaxed you back against his chest with a press of his palm, and you hesitantly allowed the gentleness of it to malleate your rigid spine. Your brain misfired again as you felt the soft brush of his thumb running slowly up and down the contour of your ribs. Your pulse skipped into your throat. You didn't dare allow your body to think that this was anything akin to intimacy. You had been starved of it for so long that if you let it believe so, you might fully lose sight of the fine line you were now walking. And if you fell, it would be straight onto a saber's edge. The vibration of your body fighting against its own tension ricocheted to the walls of your pussy, and as you squeezed him slightly, you felt his cock already beginning to harden again inside you. Your breath hitched. 

Kylo Ren made no acknowledgment of the exchange as he peeled his face from your neck, straightening slightly. He reached his long arms around you to grip the controls of the silencer, but didn't move the craft. He sat still. Contemplative, perhaps. 

You were leaned back against his shoulder, forehead resting just by his jaw, and you dared to let your face tuck gently towards him. You waited for a reaction -- to be pushed away, for some signal that you'd overstepped. But he was still. You cautiously nestled the bridge of your nose against his neck, feeling the steady thrum of pulse there, the soft currents of breath that drifted from his nose down to trickle across your skin. You tried to memorize the warm, masculine scent of him that drifted up from his collar, magnified by body heat, stirred by the gentle tide of his breathing. Oh, how long it had been since you'd had this… 

The oxytocin-riddled valleys of your mind echoed with a sudden and deadly urge to tilt up and press a soft kiss under his jaw, but a harness of fear held you still as you remembered your place, and the fragility of whatever this was. Instead, you squeezed his cock with your warmth again, a flame of lust already flickering against your belly and providing a welcome distraction from the confusion that was drawing and quartering your brain. 

Ren's chest swelled with a soft "mmph" as he seemed to come out of his own trance of thought. You wondered if he'd even been listening to yours at all. He rocked his hips once, the slide of his stiffening cock making your walls leak, and you sighed. Yes. This was fine. This was simple. He pressed his hands forward, beginning to guide the craft towards the twinkling planet in no particular hurry. You gripped his thighs and rolled your hips, squeezing and riding him slowly so as not to break his concentration as he guided you both through the silent expanse of space. 

Yes, it was best just to enjoy the simplicity of this. Of two bodies exorcising your respective tensions through the physical release you could pull from one another. And soon it would be over, and the chaos would resume around you, and you'd carry on like your spirits hadn't just fused like two atoms -- for a microsecond -- within a supernova of passion in the middle of space. And that was fine. That was for the best. 

So you fixed yourself on that tangible goal of physical pleasure, on the rhythm of your hips, on keeping your commander nice and hard and ready for whatever he decided was next. 

Because if you were good enough, then maybe. 

Just maybe. 

You'd earn yourself a second lesson. 

***

Update: Part 2 here.

[kinktae]

flesh and blood || (M)

You are living in a society that is just now picking up the scraps that the Great Outbreak left behind after the government killed off the majority of the zombies. Still, some remain, and fear still lies within society’s walls. So imagine your surprise when the very thing you’ve been taught to fear ends up saving your life, showing you that maybe two beating hearts aren't always required when it comes to love.

pairing: zombie!jungkook x reader

word count: 6k

genre: post-apocalyptic, sci-fi, smut

warnings: guns, a semi spooky scene, crack plot written seriously, zombie jk falling for Y/N, part 2 will have smut

A/N: inspired by warm bodies and the fact that I'm a legitimate crackhead. Happy Halloween!

01 | 02 | 03

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PART ONE 

❝ Breaking News! A group of Walkers has been discovered hiding in the ruins of a Pre-Break Out industrial zone. A conference was held in City Hall where a representative of the DEAD Team said this in regards to the situation…❞

"Ugh, turn it down Junny," You grumbled, tugging your blanket over your head in hopes to null out the sound of the overly enthusiastic broadcaster on the television, "I'm trying to nap here."

"No way! Dad, did you hear? They found a family of zombies in our town!" Your younger brother enthused, wide eyes glued to the glass screen of the TV. He was sat beside your feet on the couch you laid on and you fought the urge to kick him off the furniture.

Your mother and father walked into the room shortly after, Junny's yells summoning their attention.

Rolling over, you sat up to see your dad standing behind the couch, arms crossed over his chest as he offered the screen his undivided attention.

Though the worst times of the Great Outbreak were now thought to be over – there hadn't been a reported zombie attack in years – the fear still lingered. You were just an infant when the zombie infestation was at its worst so perhaps that fear never had the chance to sink its filthy claws into you but you weren’t naive to the way the rest of the world still trembled.

Your father’s expression was solemn and impenetrable; if it weren’t for the way his eyes always gave away what he was truly feeling, you wouldn’t have a clue that he was upset. Glimmering behind his pupils were flashes of anger and consternation, along with memories of a story you had yet to hear.

Two decades ago, your father, along with many other young men and women, had volunteered to team up with the government to help contain the outbreak, hunting down and capturing zombies so they could be whisked off to a facility where they were killed in quarantine.

While the cause of the breakout seemed to be agreed upon, there was still much about the walking dead that remained a mystery to the general public.

Decades before the Great Outbreak, an experimental drug by the name of Immortuos had been growing in popularity. It was said to do anything from alleviating chronic pain to ridding the body of illness altogether. Ten years after its introduction, Immortuos had been administered to millions around the world. As time went on, however, the drug began to show signs of short term effectiveness; within a couple of years, symptoms of the illnesses it was meant to cure began to show up in individuals once again.

Immortuos was quickly discontinued and sent back into research, leaving scientists scratching their heads as they tried to figure out where they went wrong.

And so life went on; people, old and young, continued to live and die as they did before. However, years after the drug's discontinuation, a story broke out of a mortuary that came to life in the middle of the night in a rural town in Spain. And that was how the outbreak began, millions of corpses everywhere suddenly resurrecting. Published reports of zombie autopsies found that consciousness and motor functioning had returned despite the fact that the circulatory system had never revived, leaving the bodies without blood or oxygen. Not fully dead but not fully alive either. A sort of undead. And sure enough, a direct link to the use of the drug and resurrection was discovered.

Your father rarely spoke of that time; not that you ever had bothered to ask about it. It was unsettling to think he was ever one of the people hunting down zombies.

"Does this mean I don't have to go to school tomorrow?" Junny grinned boyishly, looking up at your mother.

"Nice try, Junseo. You're going." Your mother dismissed without a blink of an eye. You chuckled at the way your little brother scowled at her words.

On the screen was a recording of what you assumed must have been the conference held in City Hall. There was a man dressed in the DEAD Team uniform speaking into a microphone from behind a podium. You focused on the screen ahead, tuning out the chattering of your family as you listened to his words.

❝ Citizens of this town can rest assured that the Walkers in question were apprehended and sent off to our termination facility. We can't stress enough how crucial it is that you continue to send in reports of possible zombie sightings. Even if it's a false alarm, the risk isn't worth taking. Remember to not engage with the undead as they will attack unprovoked. These creatures don't care who you are or what you do, to them you are nothing more than their next meal.❞

A frown found your face at the officer's words. There hadn't been a zombie attack in years. It was hard to believe that zombies were truly insatiable, will stop at nothing, blood-lusting monsters.

"I thought we got rid of them all." Junny sighed.

"Most of them." Your father explained dully. "There are a few still lingering around."

"I still don't understand why we have to wait for the DEAD Team to take them out. If I run into one on my way to the market, I want to be able to protect myself right then and there." Your mother huffed suddenly, turning away from the TV.

She had always been a formidable woman– strong and independent. You had a feeling that if she hadn’t been tied down by a newborn child, she would've been there fighting alongside your father during the Great Outbreak.

Your father let out a sigh, "We don't want whatever is inside them possibly infecting normal civilians. That's why they have to be put down in quarantine."

“Whatever. I’m just glad we're almost completely rid of those bastards.” Your mother sighed, ruffling the hair on top of your brother's head.

Your eyebrows furrowed, unable to hide your distaste for any longer.

"And we say they are the monsters..." You muttered quietly.

Immediately, all eyes were on you.

"Excuse me? What was that?" Your mother cautioned.

You held her stare unabashedly, clearly having no intention to take back your words. Junseo's eyes flickered among the two of you, knowing the nature of the conversation that was soon to come. As much as you complained about how stubborn your mother was, he knew that you had inherited the very trait you resented.

"How can sit there and wish death on all those innocent people?"

"Y/N, this again?" Your mother let out an exasperated noise.

Your eyes grew wide with defiance, "Yes, this again. It doesn’t matter if they were once dead, they are still people! We have massacred millions and I don't understand how you all don’t so much as bat an eye at the thought of it."

At your words, your mother let out a bitter laugh, head shaking in disbelief.

"And what about the people those crimson heads have killed? What about the chaos and lives sacrificed to protect us from them?" Your mother retorted.

You scoffed, eyes rolling in unwavering disobedience.

“Did we even try to help them? To understand them?”

"You didn't live through the outbreak like your father and I did. You were just a baby. There are things you don't know, Y/N." She pressed angrily, doing nothing to sway your stance.

"What if it was me?" You challenged coldly. "What if I had died and came back to life? Would your first instinct be to put a bullet through my head? Those people had families!"

"Cut the bullshit, Y/N. They're not people, they’re rotting corpses that can walk and it’s about damn time you realized that.”

It was at this point that your father had decided to step in, placing a hand on your shoulder as he stopped you from arguing further.

"That's enough. The both of you. Arguing is a waste of time. We should be grateful for one another. We're a family and we're all together. Not everyone who survived the outbreak can say the same." His tone was matter-of-fact but not cold in the way your mother's had been.

Looking up at him, his cautious eyes met your ardent ones. They were laced in a plea for you to stop... to understand.

Pressing your lips together, you nodded begrudgingly. Your dad was right. Arguing with your mother was a waste of time. It wasn't as if anything you said would get through to her anyway.

Pushing the blanket off your body, you swung your legs back over to the floor, hand reaching out for your bag that was sitting against the coffee table.

"Where are you going?" Your father asked, eyeing you as you got up and hauled the bag over your shoulder.

"Home. Joon is probably waiting up for me." You told him disinterestedly, causing your mother to sigh.

Namjoon was your best friend and roommate, and while he was definitely still up, you highly doubted it was for your sake. If you knew your best friend, he was sprawled on the couch, his work spread out across the coffee table as one of those old, black and white shows about people living on a prairie played in the background. Your mother didn't need to know that, of course.

"Y/N, don't be ridiculous. It's already dark out, just spend the night." She pleaded.

"Night, Junny." You ignored her, turning towards your brother with a smile.

"Night!"

As you pushed past your parents and made your way out of the room, you could hear as they began to whisper to each other. You fought the urge to roll your eyes. 

You always hated it when they did that. As if you weren’t adult enough to join in on conversations that were obviously about you. It was if this whole world was constantly shouting a million and one rules at you – don’t do that, don’t question this, don’t go here – but the second you asked for an explanation as to why you should listen, all the yelling fell to a whisper, as if to let you know that words were being said but that you were purposely excluded from that knowledge.

That thought weighed heavily on your mind as you reached the deadbolted front door. The sound of you prying it’s five locks open hid the approaching footsteps of your father walking up behind you.

"Y/N."

The pop of the final lock accompanied your silent sigh, turning to face your awaiting parent.

"Yeah?"

"Your mother and I want you to take the bus home tonight. We know you usually take that shortcut by the factory plant because it's quicker but that area isn't safe. Especially not now with the recent sighting."

"Sure." You lied, simply because you knew it was what he would want to hear.

"And tie your hair up before you go out. It gives you a–"

"–maximum visual field, yeah I know. Teachers have been drilling that into us since elementary school, dad." You countered easily.

Your father nodded back at you.

"And Y/N," he continued, "she's harsh but... your mother is right when she says there is a lot of things you don't know."

You bit down on the inside of your cheek, unsure of what to reply. Suddenly, your father's hand found your cheek, cupping your face affectionately as he silently thought something over.

"There's something I want to give you before you go. Wait right here."

Your eyebrows arched in surprise as he left you suddenly, returning shortly with a small, folded blanket in his hands.

"If anything – anyone – threatens you, you protect yourself. Okay?" He spoke solemnly, starting to unwrap the bundle of fabric.

"Yeah, of course." You nodded, mildly confused.

Your face fell as the dull silver of a revolver revealed itself as the object hidden in between the blanket. You always knew your father kept a decent amount of self-defense weapons in the house, a consequence of his involvement during the Great Outbreak, but this was the first time he had ever shown you one. The only other time you had come into contact with one was an accident, stumbling upon a gun mounted under your father's desk during a juvenile game of hide-and-seek. Perhaps in another life, you would have been disturbed by the discovery, but all children of the apocalypse such as yourself were taught about guns and weapon safety by the time they had learned to count so you weren't particularly fazed.

“Just in case.” Your father pulled you from your memories, his lips pressed tight.

You eyed the deadly weapon for a moment, your stomach churning at the idea of ever having to fire such a device. Hesitantly, you grabbed it, hand wobbling slightly at the newfound weight. Wordlessly, you unzipped your backpack and hid the gun away, tucking the three bullets that laid beside it into your front pocket.

You forced the sides of your mouth to tilt up disingenuously, offering him a somber word of gratitude before slipping out of the house with a faint goodbye.

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Kicking at a piece of rubber, you watched as it skipped ahead, tumbling down the cracked cement of the road you traveled on. Your hair swayed behind you as you walked; you had thrown it up, not solely because of your father’s warning but simply because it felt strange not to. Like putting sneakers on without socks. In this world, stepping outside meant being vigilant and on high alert.

Naturally, you had disregarded your parents’ wish for you to take the bus home. Something that had emerged along the chaos and fear that probably wasn't initially considered was the sudden need for safe transportation. Transport industries quickly used this to their advantage, the costs of public and private transportation skyrocketing tenfold as a result. While most deemed it a necessary evil, you refused to pay for a twenty-dollar bus ride that would only take you ten minutes on foot.

And it wasn’t as if the area you were passing through was particularly unsafe. It was an industrial zone, empty and abandoned for as long as you could remember. During the peak of the apocalypse, factories and warehouses like the ones you were currently passing got raided for supplies. It wasn’t nearly as awful as it was made out to be, productivity had ceased anyway. Workers were too busy preparing themselves and their families against the army of undead to worry about showing up to work on time.

Crash!

Your stride came to a halt, one of your bag straps falling off your shoulder as you quickly whirled around to face where the loud sound had come from.

Brows furrowed, you peered through the holes in the wire fence that separated you and the property. You managed to make out a silhouette by the corner of a busted down door.

“Hello?” You called out warily.

The shadow quickly darted from view.

“Hey! You’re not supposed to be there.”

Letting your gaze return back to the fence, you found a sizeable hole not too far off from where you stood. More telling than the hole, however, were the two torn up candy wrappers lying underneath it. All at once, you realized what exactly you were dealing with.

Runaway teens were an increasing problem in your city; many of them seemingly fed up with the strict rules and regulations that arose as a consequence of the Great Outbreak. As much as you sympathized with them, a dirty abandoned factory was no place for a child.

You slipped past the fence, mind made up to get whoever was inside out and back to safety. Trudging your way through the rubble and waste, you headed towards the building’s entrance, noting the trail of candy wrappers that lead to it.

Peering inside the building, you were met with a slow-moving cloud of dust that had yet to settle down– it appeared as if a part of the ceiling had collapsed which explained the loud noise you heard earlier.

“You can come out, okay? You’re not in any trouble, I promise.”

It was dark inside, the only light source coming from the street lamps that lined the road you once stood on, their cold luminescence pushing through the broken shards of the factory’s windows.

You pushed further into the ill-lit building. There were all sorts of machines and garbage inside; the tile floor was layered with dirt, clearly accumulated through the years of trespassers coming in and out.

Spotting another silver candy wrapper, you headed down a hallway, pushing past a heavy steel door.

You let yourself take a moment to take in the room ahead of you. It must have been the more corporate side of the company, you deducted, as rows of filing cabinets lined the room, papers and ransacked charts spread across the floor. There was an eeriness to the building, you quickly realized. It was somewhat unsettling feeling to see something that once must have been the pinnacle of structure and organization in such an utter state of chaos. The room was quiet enough that if you just focused hard enough, you could imagine what it once looked like, all clean and pristine as employees walked through and went about their day.

You pushed down your uneasiness, eyes straining to guide you through the windowless room.

A rustle of fabric caught your attention and you quickly rounded about a large shelf in order to reach the child.

“Are you hurt? I heard those ceiling tiles fall–”

You let your words fall flat.

A tall silhouette stood against the wall, nothing like the stature of a small adolescent like you had been anticipating. The hair on your body rose as the sound of ragged, strained breaths fell from the dark figure ahead of you.

It took a step forward, body swaying unnaturally.

Every hair on your body stood on end, jaw falling slack as reality dawned on you.

You could hear the voice of your elementary school teacher in your head suddenly, remembering the lecture she had given you and your rowdy class on what to do in case of a zombie attack. How little attention you had paid back then, giggling over something Namjoon had whispered in your ear. Yet as you stood there in front of the exact thing you had been taught to fear, you could recall every single word, playing over in your head like a mantra stuck on loop.

Don’t make any sudden noises.

It was as if every nerve ending in your body grew cold, your feet felt impossibly heavy as fear paralyzed you, watching with wide eyes as the dark figure crept closer and closer.

Look for the nearest exit.

A panicked exhale fell from you as it's dull eyes locked onto yours. The shadow covered creature let out a noise of its own: deep, guttural and utterly inhuman.

And run.

You nearly lost your footing as you launched yourself into a sprint, not even thinking to head back the way you came in, mind blinded with white-hot panic. The cracked walls of the building echoed your frenzied steps, like a cruel game of hide-and-seek where no matter where you hid, you would be found.

Shoving past a stack of empty cardboard boxes, you found yourself in an unfamiliar storage room. Scanning the room hurriedly, your eyes fell onto a door on the other side and you quickly made your way over to it.

"Dammit!" You seethed, yanking at the handle as you realized the door you had reached was locked.

Jaw clenched, you turned back around to exit the room when your father’s words unexpectedly crossed your mind.

"If anything – anyone – threatens you, you protect yourself. Okay?"

And so you reached over a shoulder for your bag, eyes flicking between it and the room ahead of you as you picked yourself back up into a jog.

Tugging the zipper aside, you cursed at the jumbled sight of your bag’s contents. You had placed the gun on top but it must have sunk to the bottom during your travels.

You stuck your hand in further, looking to feel the cool metal brush against your fingertips.

Then, everything went dark, a low ringing finding your ears as you stumbled back, completely thrown off balance. You let out a yelp of pain and clutched your head, vision blurry and doubled.

You hissed, disoriented and confused as you had run headfirst into a large filing cabinet, too occupied with finding the gun to pay attention to where you were running. You struggled to keep yourself on solid ground, too ailed to notice the way that very cabinet had lost its footing and now teetered dangerously, seconds from crashing down onto you.

Suddenly, something seized both your arms, yanking you back as the heavy hunk of metal came crashing onto the ground.

You winced at the sound, before realizing that you had been grabbed by someone. One panicked glance over your shoulder confirmed your fears and a scream ripped through you, thrashing in the zombie's grip. To your surprise, you were released immediately, falling to your knees momentarily as you scrambled forward and away from your captor. Your escape was halted by a wall, however, forced to stop and press your back to it, eyes wide as you kept them locked on the zombie boy across from you.

His skin was a pale-ish blue, unlike any color you had seen before, his hair coarse and unkempt, nearly shielding his eyes from view. But still, you saw them: peering through his dark strands and guarded by the bruises that stained the skin around them as if he hadn't slept in ages. Shallow breaths fell through his pale lips, tinted purple from the lack of blood running through him.

“You just... You just saved me.” You marveled.

The zombie stood in front of you wordlessly, shoulders slumped forwards as his head tilted.

You knew there was a high chance he had no clue what you were saying, but frankly, you were too stunned to care. Here you were, somewhere in an abandoned factory in the middle of the night accompanied by the very thing you were raised to fear... and he had pulled you away from a falling metal cabinet.

You held his eyes. They were glossy and unmoving– lifeless almost. You shook your head; your heart had settled back into its chest, your breathing finally evening out. What coursed through you was no longer dread but an insatiable need to understand.

What did he want?

Why would he save you?

How did he get here?

The zombie let out a grunt suddenly as if it was meant as a goodbye before he turned around, beginning to leave.

“Wait!” You called out after him, putting your existential crisis on pause.

To your surprise, he turned back around immediately, facing you with unmistakable attentiveness. Did he... understand you?

“You… Today on the news... That was your family, wasn’t it?" You guessed, purely on a whim.

The zombie said nothing but you thought you saw a wave of something akin to melancholy wash over his face. No words were exchanged but your gut told you that you were right nonetheless.

“They'll be looking for you. You’ll be caught if you stay here.” You continued, swallowing down your nerves. You still weren't sure if the zombie boy could even understand you after all.

Placing a hand against the paint chipped wall, you helped yourself back up, inhaling sharply as your head throbbed. You took a cautious step toward him, hands trembling but stance steadfast.

Extending your palm forward, you offered your hand towards him, newfound determination coursing through you as the zombie boy's eyes followed the gesture curiously.

“You saved my life." You acknowledged with a nod. "Now let me save yours.”

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"Shh! Quietly, come in." You whispered, gesturing for the hoodied zombie to follow you into your apartment.

This zombie, as you had come to find out, was particularly agreeable. While he didn't seem to actually understand your language per se, he did seem to respond particularly well to gestures and body language, which was how you had somehow managed to wrangle him into your apartment, his dirty red hoodie thrown over his head to cover his face in case you ran into another human.

The undead man's eyes grew wide, taking in the inside space of your apartment with wonder. You could only imagine it must have been an upgrade from the gloomy factory he had been hiding out in. Reaching the kitchen, you froze at the sound of the TV on and playing from your living room.

Shit. Namjoon.

"Y/N, is that you?" Your roommate called out from the couch, hearing the shuffle of your steps.

You cursed internally. On your way home, you hadn't given much thought to exactly how you were going to hide your new zombie friend from your living one. You weren't thinking much at all honestly, too concerned with getting home unseen to worry about anything else.

Turning towards the zombie boy, you extended your hand in front of you in a gesture that ordered him to stay put. He stared at it, eyebrows moving towards one another.

"Stay." You directed quietly, before turning the other way.

"Yeah." You called out, placing your bag on your kitchen counter before heading towards the living room.

"Thought you were spending the night at your family's place?" Namjoon pondered, turning over to look at you as you entered the space.

"Changed my mind." You shrugged, trying your hardest to appear nonchalant, despite the way your heart clamored against your chest. "Didn't think you'd be up this late."

Your bespeckled best friend let out a sigh, dropping whatever file he was studying back onto the coffee table.

"Yeah, I guess I lost track of the time." He mused, glancing at his wristwatch. You nodded nervously, opening your mouth to suggest that perhaps he should head to bed now when Namjoon cut you off suddenly.

“Holy fuck!” He shot up from his seat, eyes set behind you as a terrified expression fell over him. You whipped around, heart falling into your ass.

Oh shit.

"No! Bad zombie! I told you to stay!" You scolded him. He was now standing behind you, having had abandoned his post in the kitchen. He looked as unbothered as ever, his hands tucked into his hoodie as he casually looked the two humans over.

"What the fuck?!" Namjoon cried.

“I can explain.” You turned towards the panicking boy calmly.

Immediately, Namjoon jumped into action, scrambling to crouch behind the couch as if to put a physical barrier between him and the zombie.

"You– Y/N, tell me that's just a guy wearing zombie makeup. Tell me that is not a zombie standing in our living room. Say sike right fucking now!”  Namjoon squawked, his voice pitched high.

You grimaced, looking over at the indifferent zombie before looking back at your roommate.

“Just hear me out for one second–”

“Are you insane?!" Namjoon shrieked, standing up in anger before realizing he had exposed himself and quickly ducking back down. "I’m not gonna listen to you! You brought a zombie into our house– oh god. He bit you, didn't he? You're probably turning as we speak!”

You rolled your eyes, realizing that Namjoon wasn't calming down anytime soon.

“My best friend is a zombie... this is like some horrible Disney Channel movie coming to life!” He rambled on nervously, running a hand through his hair in despair.

“For fuck’s sake Namjoon, I’m not a zombie! Besides, you know getting bit doesn't turn people– that was disproved ages ago.” You scoffed, glancing over at the zombie man who still seemed uninterested despite the scene your best friend was making.

“Well excuse me if I don’t have the logistics of zombie contagion down! It doesn't change the fact that you brought a flesh-eating monster into our home, you psychopath!”

You frowned at your best friend’s tone.

“If he was a flesh-eating monster, then wouldn’t we be dead by now?” You stated matter-of-factly, hand on your hip.

“Exactly— wait.” Namjoon blinked, poking his head out from behind the couch. He frowned, glancing over at the zombie. “Hold on a minute. Why is he just standing there?"

Hesitantly, your best friend stood up from the couch altogether, "I thought zombies jumped at the chance of eating people?”

“Yes, well, for whatever reason, this one doesn’t.” You told him with a shrug. You had thought the same thing when you first came across your new undead friend.

You watched as the familiar flame of curiosity spark behind Namjoon’s eyes. Slowly, he inched his way over to the two of you, hands in front of him as if to shield himself until he was just inches away from the resurrected man.

For a few moments, it was silent, your best friend and the zombie running their eyes over one another as they each decided what to make of each other.

To your surprise, Namjoon's hand reached over and positioned itself onto the zombie's neck, pointer and middle finger pulled together as he checked for a pulse.

“Fascinating…” Namjoon murmured inquisitively as he concluded that the stranger was indeed dead.

Your shoulders, which had been locked up tensely as the two men interacted, dropped immediately, realizing that Namjoon's initial panic had subsided and been replaced with interest. It was in his nature to be fascinated with the things that scared and repulsed most, of course. He was studying to become a biomedical scientist after all.

Despite his cowardliness, Namjoon was actually quite fearless when it came to his work; he was extremely intelligent and had a natural knack for research and investigative methods. You could only hope that the prospect of having a real-life zombie to study from would outweigh any moral duty he felt to report you to the police.

“You know how illegal this is right?” He said sternly, much calmer than he initially was.

"He saved my life, Joon." You explained. "I don't know why but... I couldn't just leave him behind. Especially not with the DEAD Team on high alert with the recent sightings. They'd kill him if they found him."

Namjoon turned away from the zombie, sighing as he met your eyes.

"Well... maybe they should."

You frowned, "Joon–"

"I mean think about what it stands for in the first place: Designated Eradication And Decimation. An entire team was put together solely to get rid of these guys. Surely, there’s a reason why. The government wouldn't put a group together like that if zombies didn't pose a threat to humankind, right?”

Your brows furrowed, finding a fair point in Namjoon's words. Yet, as you turned to look at the zombie and found him placidly watching the television, you couldn’t find it within yourself to agree.

Suddenly, you were in front of your best friend, taking his hands into yours as you put on a sorrowful expression.

"Please don't turn him in!" You begged, your bottom lip jutting out. "I know what I'm asking is a lot but I wouldn't be asking if it wasn't important. There’s no one else in this world I could trust to help me with this.”

Namjoon's eyes went wide, yanking his hands from between yours. He twisted his head away from your pleading eyes, cheeks tinted pink.

"Ah, jeez, Y/N. Turning him would mean turning you in for housing him in the first place. Just because you don't give a shit about your wellbeing, doesn't mean I don't. God, you really are an idiot."

You let out a grateful squeal, wrapping your arms around your best friend, "Thank you, thank you! I knew I could always count on you."

The scientist froze in your embrace before letting out a sigh, patting your back begrudgingly as he muttered words of dismissal, neither you nor him noticing the way the zombie was now watching you two in interest, a curious expression on his face.

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"It's okay... It's just water. It won't hurt you." You promised, hand gesturing towards you as you urged the zombie man to come closer.

You were standing in the shower, clothes dampening as the running water hit your body. Namjoon was stood with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the bathroom's door frame. He had insisted on standing guard in case the walker suddenly decided that he was, in fact, hungry and went ahead and tried to have you for dinner.

The zombie watched dubiously as you beckoned him forward but if he had objections he didn't bother to voice them as he stepped into the shower after you.

"Good. Look, that feels nice, doesn't it?" You reasoned, leading his hand under the stream of water. The unnamed zombie watched as his hand grew blurry, the running water bouncing against it. The dirt that clung to his skin slowly dissipated, falling onto the ceramic tub and running down the drain.

Placing a hand against the shower wall, you maneuvered yourself around him so that he could stand under the showerhead. The zombie hardly noticed the swap in positions, however, too enthralled with the feeling of water against his hand.

"Here, now why don't you try standing under it–" You had placed your hands against his back, nudging him closer to the stream when he let out a noise of panic, whirling around to rush over to the opposite side of the shower, pressing you back into the shower wall in the process.

"Y/N!" Namjoon called out, moving forward.

"I'm okay!" You reassured immediately, pausing your best friend's motions. The dead man had both hands held against the wall, trapping you on either side.

Bringing your hands up, you placed them onto his chest, trying your hardest to ignore how empty it felt. Pushing him back, you let out a breath. Truth be told, his quick actions had startled you. As much as you wanted to believe that he was different, the truth was that you didn't know for certain if he wasn't everything the media told you he was. 

He was looking down at you, uncertainly laced across his face.

It was the first time you had gotten a chance to truly look at him this close. From here, it was easy to see how he was once human. He had pretty features– unquestionably, he would have been an attractive man when he was alive.

Something you hadn’t noticed before were the faint, blue veins that crawled up his neck and cheeks; markers of the Immortous drug that once ran through his bloodstream. Taking note of the dried patch of blood on his cheek, you pulled your wet sleeve over your hand before reaching up to gently rub against his stained skin.

"I promise I'm not going to hurt you. I’m just trying to clean you up, okay?" You assured him with an encouraging nod.

To your surprise, the hand that had been stroking his cheek was suddenly stilled, his large palm loosely covering yours. He kept it there, not as to tell you to stop but as if to show his gratitude– or at least that was what you told yourself. It was a simple gesture, but it gave you pause before a soft smile fell over you.

Leading him back, the two of you eventually found the water that rained down from the large shower head. You watched as the zombie flinched, face scrunching up as the water began to fall down the back of his head.

"Come help me get his clothes off." You called to Namjoon, and so the undressing began.

The zombie stood silently as he was left in nothing but his jeans, not understanding what was being said around him, but knowing that he was not in danger here. The taller of his two new companions, the man, rubbed a strange substance into his uncombed hair as you rubbed as his arms, a frothy, pleasant smelling matter coating his skin.

Water dripped from his bangs and ran down his face, some of it seeping into his eyes. It stung them slightly, and the zombie wondered if whatever the tall man had put into his hair was to blame. He thought to close his eyes to put a stop to the irritation but for whatever reason, he opted to keep them open for a bit longer just so he could watch you. Your hair was weighed down with the water that was bouncing off of him and onto you, face set seriously as you focused on whatever it was you were doing.

Your hands were warm, much like the water raining down his back, but still different somehow. They were more firm, and somehow more soothing. You were washing at his chest when you finally took notice of your spectator, feeling the zombie's eyes on you. Peering up at him, you laughed nervously, flashing him a small grin.

No, he decided. 

He didn’t want to close his eyes.

[tartagilicious]

[CN] Lucien’s Birthday Date 2020 (eng translation)

💌 this is coupled with a rumours and secrets that I’ll publish in the next day or so! they’re connected, but context is not extremely necessary to understand the date.

— 

Today is Lucien’s birthday. But what’s different from the days in the past is that today is a more special day. In the morning, he’ll report on the topics that he has studied for many years. On the projection screen, a series of large characters detailing, “Monthly Injured Patient’s Cognitive Change of Different Emotions and Intervention Measures for Emotion Recognition After Injury.” are displayed.

I sat quietly in the back of the lecture hall, watching Lucien walk into the lecture hall. After getting to know Lucien, I know that he’s always been studying many things himself. Although I don’t quite understand his subject, through the whispers of the audience, I know that this is one of the major issues that have been valued by the brain science community, and has yet to be resolved.

Lucien stood in a formal suit on the stage, and looked down around the seating area. He stopped for a few moments while looking in the direction I was, then walked to the podium.

Lucien: About twenty years ago, Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI), the cognition of a traumatic lunatic injury, was a topic that was of not much concern to anyone. Usually people think that this is a treatment experience, or the baggage is caused by the patient’s own psychological changes.

Lucien: In a 2012 study, it is estimated that 54-60 million people worldwide suffer from TBI each year. 2.2-3.6 million people suffer from moderate to severe damage each year. In recent years, with the advancement of science and technology, we have been able to monitor the changes in various physical data of patients with brain injury by using high-end equipment.

Lucien: We found that emotional changes are cognitions in traditional psychology. It may be caused by physiological changes in the patient’s brain itself. Therefore, along this line of thinking, I conducted an in-depth research plan on the mechanism of emotional cognitive changes in TBI patients to determine the principle of change.

Lucien: Based on the guidance of the research results, intervention measures for post-injury emotion recognition for TBI patients was also formulated.

Lucien dropped each word calmly and carefully with his speech. The report on the screen is displayed neatly page by page. Most of the people below the venue’s stage were quiet, and except for the sound of rustling pages.

Lucien: People with TBI may also experience their anxiety increasing after living with TBI. After TBI, anxiety may aggravate other cognitive dysfunctions. For example, the ability to recognise emotions. Compared with positive emotions, it is more difficult for people with TBI to recognise negative emotions such as anger, fear, and sadness.

Lucien: Next, I will introduce the data based on a group of 25 participants.

In the lecture hall, scholars and researchers from all over the world are witnessing this together. How many years of research did it take to get to this moment?

I was in the last row of the lecture hall, so i secretly photographed Lucien and inserted it into our commemorative album,

It was noon when Lucien left the research venue. I left the building early and waited at the door, carrying a box of cake and a bouquet of flowers. When seeing him, I solemnly handed over the bouquet.

MC: Professor Xu, that’s hard work.

Lucien glanced at the cake box in my hand. His eyes fell on my calm face and his eyes squinted thoughtfully before taking the bouquet.

Lucien: Are you planning to “surprise” me with this year’s gift?

MC: This bouquet of flowers is for Professor Xu’s hard work, not a birthday gift.

I smiled and raised the box of cake in my hand, and sincerely looked directly at Lucien.

MC: But sometimes, the surprise isn’t so foreseeable, and is more unexpected and magical. Anyways, every time I make a small move, you’ll guess at the end. So, it’s better to go the other way to be more generous. I hope this year’s birthday, everything will start with you.

Lucien: So… I can do anything today?

The voice is a little low in the autumn breeze, like a fallen leaf kissing the water’s surface. Meeting his gaze, I nodded happily.

MC: Today is the third birthday I’ll be able to celebrate with you, and is the day when your years of research has temporarily come to an end. On such a special day, your mood is the most important!

MC: I want to accompany you to do all of the things you want to do, instead of letting you meet my expectations. In order to deal with various different situations, I made sure to make a special heat preservation and storage for the cake.

Lucien: If i want to do many things, will it be a big trouble?

MC: It’s your birthday today, it’s principle to accept the wants of others freely.

Lucien: So what if there are a lot of things and we can’t finish them today?

MC: Then we’ll do them tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, the day after that tomorrow, and continue until we finish. Anyway, I have a lot of time. So you don’t have to think too much, you can just do whatever you want.

Lucien slowly blinked after hearing my answer. He lowered my eyes, not knowing what he was thinking.

A few days before the report, Lucien was more silent than usual. I didn’t have much work, so I just stayed quietly by his side.

The autumn leaves rustled. Lucien raised his hand to straighten my hair tossed by the wind and then touched his forehead to mine.

Lucien: That…. Are you capable of being unhappy?

A few words slipped quietly into my ears, making me a bit stunned. Lucien’s expression is still very pale. The corners of his raised mouth kept a fixed arc, and his eyes are brightened by the autumn light as they look straight at me.

I couldn’t help but take a breath. The cool greenery smells like flowers June, filling my whole heart and swelling my lungs.

MC: Of course I am.

Lucien breathed after hearing my answer, his mouth opening for a moment.

MC: Although I hope that on your birthday, you will be happy. But if you aren’t happy, I’ll be unhappy with you. I will be with you. I;ll spend all the unhappy times with you, so we can wait for the moment when happiness comes together.

“Happy Birthday” should be a blessing, not a shackle.

Lucien smiled. The bright autumn colours covered his eyes. It was just like the moment he explained on stage just minutes ago. I shook the cake box.

MC: So, where does Professor Xu want to spend this special day?

He raised his head and looked deeply into the distance.

Lucien: I thought of a place, but it’s a little far away. Would you like to go with me?

MC: Of course!

After a few hours’ drive, we came to an old street. Although it’s old, it seems like it’s constantly being repaired and refurbished. I visited this same place once when I was very young, and today’s scene is completely different from my vague memory.

People have soft memories of the old city always renovating every stone tile. Everything that had originally been put up is slowly being watered down. Until one day, quietly at the time, Lucien’s memory had always been good, but this time it seems to be slightly slow.

He would stop at a certain street corner and glance indifferently; he would also look around at the fork quietly, as if the choice was not in his memory.

I followed him quietly down the paved road. We climbed the ramp and went around for a long time. After a few confirmations, Lucien finally stopped. In front of us is a silent and empty space.

I secretly peeked at Lucien and found that his expression was still clear. It’s like looking into the distance without seeing anything in front of you. Across this open space, his eyes are vacant.

I retracted my eyes, also staring at the clearing in front of us. I feel faintly that I can guess where this place is.

Lucien: ___, let’s go sit there for a while.

Lucien pointed to a bench facing the clearing. I took his hand and sat there with him. The midday afternoon in late autumn was a bit cold, and the whole world was so quiet that the only sounds were our breathing, the exhaled white mist whirling in the air and disappearing silently.

I looked at the clearing, imagining what it once looked like. Maybe it used to hold a small bungalow in the old days, or it may have been a courtyard.

Lucien: There used to be a small bungalow here, do you know what it was like?

Lucien’s voice suddenly sounded. I was stunned, and momentarily even wondered if my imagination had a distinct sound to him.

MC: I saw that kind of house when I was a kid, but I can’t remember exactly.

Lucien: The bricks of the house were a little mottled white, and the roof was covered with red tiles. Because it’s on the hillside, they often blow away. On special occasions, a row of small blue and white flags would be hung on the leaves. When the leaves blew, it looked beautiful when sitting in the courtyard.

Following Lucien’s description, I closed my eyes while imagining the open space.

I felt Lucien holding my hand, and he wound our fingers together, holding them as close as possible. I was about to open my eyes when Lucien’s voice continued.

Lucien: Open the gate outside, you can walk into the yard.

MC: Will there be flowers in the yard? Lucien: Yes, there is a row of small flower beds on the left, but the owner is always busy, they often forget to water them. So, they don’t look too healthy. The door is in front of you. When you open it, there’ll be an occasional squeaking sound.

I nodded subconsciously, feeling as if I had really walked through the small yard and opened the door. Some stale air was opened along with it, welcoming the return of a long-lost gentle memory.

MC: What about after opening the door? There is an ordinary entryway. Where does ___ want to go?

MC: (you can choose between left, right, forward, and upstairs) I want to go right.

Lucien: On the right is the living room. Although it’s called the living room, there are actually bookshelves everywhere.

MC: Is there no study?

Lucien: In fact, it’s because the study can’t fit those books that the living room has filled up a bit. In the centre is a very soft sofa. In autumn, sunlight will shine through the floor-to-ceiling windows to the sofa.

Lucien: There is a set of very expensive speakers on the opposite side of the sofa. It was specially bought by the little boy’s father for the purpose of listening to classical music.

MC: It must be very comfortable to listen to music while reading a book on the sofa.

Lucien: Actually… the most comfortable place is the rocking chair by the french windows.

I felt a familiar temperature on my left side pushing slightly into me. Lucien seemed to have adjusted his posture to be leaning onto my shoulder.

Lucien: To the little boy in this house, the rocking chair at that time was just the right size for him. When he was tired from reading, he could turn over and sleep with a book. When the weather is good, the rocking chair will be gently moved by the wind.

I seem to be standing in the living room wrapped by bookshelves, and staring at the floor-to-ceiling windows. There was a small child, hugging the book in his hand tightly, and curled up in a slightly swaying rocking chair, sleeping in the brilliant autumn light.  

Maybe it’s just an ordinary dream, like his peaceful daily life, gentle and precious.

We returned to the hallway again.

Lucien: There is an ordinary entrance, where does ___ want to go?

MC: (given the same options, left, right, forward, and upstairs) I want to see the upstairs.

Lucien: There will be a staircase through the living room. When you step on the board, it will creak. Immediately after going upstairs, you will see a small living room.

MC: Is it also full of bookshelves?

Lucien smiled, soft laughter in my ears.

Lucien: Unfortunately, you’ve guessed correctly. Maybe I’ve remembered it wrongly, but this seems like not a place to live in, and rather a bookstore. But the little boy’s parents should distinguish between functions -- after all, it is a little closer to the study.

Lucien: If you are tired of reading books in the study, you can just walk out and continue in this small living room.

MC: And when you’re tired of reading in this small living room?

Lucien: Go down to the large living room and have a look.

I was amused by his banter. The whole house seems to be full of books at every corner, accompanying the people in this house to explore the ends of the world.

MC: What’s on the second floor?

Lucien: On the left side of the small living room, there is a long corridor. The first door is a large bedroom, and at the end, there is a room on each side. On the right is the study, which contains more materials, and the books placed highly are all professional books.

Lucien: At that time the little boy couldn’t even read the words on it. A large English-Chinese dictionary and English-English dictionary are placed next to each other.

MC: You must understand it now, right?

I said this with emotion, and Lucien on my side was a little silent. He seemed to be remembering something again, and slowly opened his mouth.

Lucien: I should have understood it when I was around sixteen or seventeen.

MC: ….

MC: Let’s leave this room that doesn’t belong to me.

The low laughter clung to me, making me almost want to open my eyes and tell him to respect the natural gap between people. But I thought about how there was one last room left, so I finally took a deep breath and decided to ignore the constant laughter.

MC: What about the room on the left?

Lucien: That’s the little boy’s room.

Following Lucien’s words, he steadily let me open the last door.

MC: Does this room also have a lot of books?

Lucien: No. There are no books in the little boy’s room. His parents don’t want him to read all the time, so they don’t let him bring books there.

MC: There was really no books?

Lucien: Actually, there are two books under the pillow.

When Lucien said this, I couldn’t help laughing.

Lucien: Here is a very small and ordinary bedroom, with a bed, wardrobe, and a little desk...

MC: Wait a minute, there is no book, what does the little boy do at the desk?

Lucien: He plays puzzle games.

MC: Huh?

Lucien: For example,  Kong Ming chess, chess, element matching card games…

MC: That doesn’t sound like a puzzle for children…

I couldn’t help but smile, and I got a deep laugh from Lucien.

MC: But.. it really seems to be an ordinary child’s bedroom.

Lucien: Because the special place lies elsewhere.

This time Lucien held my hand and stood up.

Lucien: Don’t open your eyes.

While Lucien said this, he pulled me forward into a walking pace.

Lucien: In the little boy’s house, there is a balcony.

The brilliant autumn light sides through my eyelids and hits my retina, shining slightly in the closed world. I felt as if I was really under Lucien’s lead. I closed my eyes and walked slowly across the bedroom, going to the balcony.

Lucien stopped and leaned into me from me.

Lucien: ___, open your eyes.

The gentle autumn breeze rolled up the golden osmanthus in the sky. At that moment, Lucien and I seemed to be standing on the balcony of the old house, fluttering colourful flags that fly happily in the wind. The mountains and flowers in front of me lay behind clouds shifting in the wind.

Lucien: The balcony of the boy’s room is the best place to see the scenery around here. There will be fireflies in the mountains on spring nights, like the secrets of the mountains. In the summer, the streets are always lively. The elderly will play chess on the side of the road, the children will play nearby, and they will also run to the observation deck on the mountain to see the fireworks.

Lucien: In autumn, when it rains, the sound of rain hitting the wood is very comfortable. The whale world is drenched by the splashing rain, and everything is in mist. It rarely snows in the winter, but there are very small snowflakes. He often imagined the whole mountain covered by heavy snow.

Lucien: The little boy’s father told him that the world is big, and there are many secrets in the world. You will meet them, and you will like them.

I open my eyes and stand in the middle of the open space, looking at the mountains. The mountains in front of us were nothing but empty silence. The golden osmanthus swayed slightly in the wind.

When we arrived at the viewing platform on the mountain, the sun had quietly descended.

Lucien: Sorry, I let you be with me all of today.

MC: If you can do more foolish things like today, I’ll be happier.

Lucien smiled lightly and took my hand, sitting in the long seat of the pavilion. The street lamps on the road up and down the mountain had begun to turn on, looking like small candles at first glance.

The same small handmade cake was finally put on the stone slab after a whole day of rushing. Looking at this cake, I thought of the old house in Lucien’s memory, and the little boy lying on the balcony looking into the distance.

MC: Lucien, how do you feel about yourself when you were a kid?

Lucien: Why did you ask so?

MC: Just suddenly curious.

Lucien was silent for a moment, but I didn’t look up at him, instead keeping my eyes on the decorated cake in his hand.

Lucien: So, what does ___ think about herself when she was a kid?

I raised my head and pursed my lips, looking at the blurry lights in the distant city.

MC: I miss her. She is clumsy. Also very reckless. She just did what seemed great at the time. Looking at the words she once said, I’m embarrassed and unable to look back on them without laughing at her.

MC: But, she was so sincere and brave. She made me the person I am now, and I am very grateful to her. I just don’t know if I’ve become the kind of person she imagined… if so, even enough.

Lucien: Yes. You must be the kind of person she wanted to be.

Lucien put his hand in his lap and looked at the dim lights with me.

Lucien: If I could see myself when I was child, I actually don’t know how I would feel. There were so many things that he didn’t understand at the time, so much he thought would have a specific answer. Including happiness, sadness, fear… and love.

Lucien’s voice is calm. It’s not so much talking about himself as a child, rather, he seemed to have pulled him away to simply evaluate an individual.

Lucien: He is very far away.

MC: No, you’re too harsh on him.

Lucien: What?

MC: “People are good at different things” Just like some people can’t understand science, his weaknesses are placed in a more special space. He may only understand those things more slowly, more deeply, and better in the future. And it is precisely that kind of person that gradually became the Lucien in front of me.

I light a candle. Against the light, Lucien’s face was extremely soft.

MC: Happy birthday, Lucien. Lucien has been working hard this year! If you were too far away when you were a child, just look at this year as your one-year-old self.

Lucien heard me say this, seemingly as if he hadn’t expected it. He looked at me with interest.

Lucien: Why do you say so?

MC: I think “birthdays” always cut life into different stages.

There is a new toy at 7 years old. I want to fall in love when I’m 15 years old, and want to take a good university entrance exam at the age of 18. Looking for a job at 22, and owning a house at 30…

“Birthday” seems to be an invisible reminder. You will look back on this day as a new person, and realise you’ve entered a new stage.

MC: Starting with a little Lucien, Lucien at every age is connected together to become the person he is now. This “year old” Lucien has used the academic report to mark the new year perfectly. He’s full of curiosity about the world and is still on the road to discovering the truth.

MC: He was a little nasty, always showing me questionable sides of things and teasing me… but such a Lucien is very good. I hope that future you can do what you want to do and become the person that you want to be.

MC: You don’t have to be happy all the time, but i hope that you can think of me first when you’re unhappy. Let me be with you always.

There are tiny petals of the golden osmanthus in the wind, like flowery waves reflected in the candlelight. Lucien’s eyes are shining brightly, filled with the night sky and autumn leaves.

Lucien: I will.

He did not say thank you as usual, but solemnly and sincerely left a promise, or even an oath.

Lucien: I’ve thought about my wish for this year.

Under the small candlelight, Lucien lowered his head, slowly raised his hand and wrapped his left fist in his right palm before looking straight at it. After a long time, he raised his head.

MC: Seems to me like you have a lot of wishes this year?

Lucien: I’m not only making a wish. There are also some words that I want to tell them.

Lucien looked at me. He didn’t explain who “they” were, just as he hadn’t explained the owner of the house. He knew I would know. Probably in this aspect, Lucien is actually very clumsy. And it’s this clumsiness that lets him become so real and complete.

MC: By the way, this is this year’s birthday present.

I took out the souvenir book from my bag that I had restored after a long time. It lies with a small wooden box with grids drawn over the lid, every part of it covered with stickers by me.

Lucien: It turns out that you’ve hidden a lot of things in your backpack.

MC: Maybe. This is our souvenir book this year. This year is also very thick.

Lucien slowly turned over the thick album. Summer camp in Yuelao Temple, Lucien’s home,the orphanage, in the classroom, the amusement park, the farm, the oil painting hall.

We have so many new memories.

MC: This is a previously out of print book. Although my craftsmanship isn’t very good, I did my best!

Lucien: you’ve worked hard, ___.

MC: This is the “Blind box project”!

I solemnly took out the small wooden box and started introducing it to Lucien.

MC: There’s a total of 60 grids. When you’re unhappy, just pick a grid to open. There may be gifts in it, a sentence, or a picture. The only requirement is that you must summon ___ to complete it with you.

Lucien: 365 days, and only 60 grids? (bahsdhj mood)

MC: Mr. Xu, 60 days of unhappiness is a lot. I hope you won’t open them all so quickly.

I went to stare at him a little furiously, but found his smiling eyes.

MC: You teased me again!

Lucien: ___, thank you.

The sky gradually darkened. The lights of the city slowly lit up under the mountain like a touch of gentle blessing. Maybe for anyone, the world was monochromatic at the beginning. With time and encounters, let it slowly be stained with colour, and give different people and things their own value.

Slowly, the whole world became colourful. It worked with memory, with smell and sound. After the most special existence appears, the colours of this world will be more distinctive. It’s like refreshing an entire picture, so that everything has a new meaning.

While we quietly shared the cake, I looked at Lucien’s face lit gently by the warm lights.

MC: Lucien, you’re now in colour.

Lucien froze for a moment, then smiled meaningfully. He ate the last bit of cake and finally sat next to me. It is rare that he carries such a sweet fragrance on his body, and even the breath that comes close is sweet.

Lucien: ___, to me, you are more than colour.

[supersilversleuth]

To Kill, To Die, or, To Live by SuperSilverSpy

Fandoms:DCU, DCU (Comics), Batman - All Media Types

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Category: Gen

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Hurt Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson-centric, Dick Grayson Whump, Whump, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, I have used these tags so much lately, I could probably write them in my sleep, Hurt No Comfort, maybe? - Freeform, I don’t remember writing any comfort…, Hurt, Angst, Jason Todd is a good bro, usually, sometimes?, idk - Freeform, he wants to be a good bro in this fic, Possession, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Whumptober 2021, SuperSilverSpy, SilverGrayson

Summary:

Red Hood showed up in the Batcave after helping out with a quick op one night. Everyone seemed to be looking at him with distrust and suspicion, even though he’d just helped them out. Everyone except Dick, of course, who offered him a tight smile, but whose expression was otherwise unreadable.

Kill kill kill...Dick Grayson shall die...

“What? Why the oh so serious faces?” Jason’s voice drawled.

OR Jason wakes up one morning, and there’s a voice in his head screaming for the death of one Dick Grayson

No. 4 - TRUST FALL “Do you trust me?” | taken hostage | pushed

Published: 2021-10-04 Completed:2021-10-04 Words: 3091 Chapters: 3/3

Chapter One: To Kill

It happened out of the blue one day.

Jason woke in a cold sweat, but he didn’t immediately sit up in bed. In fact, he didn’t move at all. He just stared up at his ceiling, a single thought running through his head, a single emotion coursing through his veins.

Dick Grayson must die.

Distantly, a part of him felt appalled at the notion, but most of him was running with it. Anger clouded his mind but it was unlike any he’d ever felt before. It was different, colder somehow, not like the usual searing heat of pit madness.

He heard a new voice in his head spewing insults about the Golden Boy left and right. Some felt familiar, as if taken from Jason’s own mind. Most of them were new, and he did his best to ignore the most unsavory ones.

He didn’t actually hate Dickface, did he? N—

Jason sat up, and began preparing for the day ahead of him. Put bread in the toaster, remember the meetings he has with several of his informants— Dick Grayson deserves to die— now that didn’t sound right…what was he thinking about again? Put butter on the toast when it’s done, start eating, think about that case that’s been stumping him lately— take Nightwing hostage —what was that? He does have a pretty busy nightlife… Do the morning’s dishes, brush his teeth, get dressed. He had a drug ring to bust tonight, that’s right. Some scumbags needed a little visit from the esteemed crime lord Red Hood— kill them all— what? N—

Jason went through the rest of his day in a haze. He met with some informants, gave food to some people on the streets. He got everything done quickly and efficiently, he even managed to make time to buy groceries. With every interaction, he acted just like he normally would. His movements were comfortable, voice at just the right level to suit each situation. People seemed easily swayed by him, to do as he asked. And yet...he felt detached somehow, as if watching through someone else’s eyes—someone who acted exactly like him.

He couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it though, couldn’t open his mouth and say something out of character, or just talk to himself when no one was in sight. Distantly, a part of him felt alarmed, something was just off.

Still, he made it through the day just fine. Whatever had been bothering him earlier that morning seemed to fade, and he started to feel as if nothing had changed. And nothing had, right? He didn’t remember anything different between today and yesterday…

Night came, and the Red Hood went out to save the day, or at least crash some a**hats’ day, he wasn’t picky. Everything went to plan too, which made him elated. The bats could say all they wanted about him, but no one could deny his clear skill and competency.

Everything was going well, the drug traffickers were all passed out on the ground and Jason was getting ready to call the police, when it happened.

His thumb withdrew from the call button, burner phone slipping back into his pocket. His hands went instead to his guns, and he felt his body turning, moving towards the unconscious bodies of some of the worst that he’d taken down. Kill. Kill. Kill. Chanted that new voice in his head. Kill them all, they deserve it. Just like Dick Grayson.

What? N—No, that didn’t make sense. Why was—Why was his hand still moving? What was his finger doing on the trigger? Jason didn’t understand. I don’t want to kill them, he thought. He pushed against that voice, that—that presence in his head.

It pushed back .

Jason was left scrambling internally, as he watched his own arm lift and aim. A body lay on the ground, motionless where splashes of crimson decorated the floor.

Jason felt as if he’d been booted out of his own body, like his actions weren’t his to control anymore. He felt sick, but no bile would rise in his throat. No feeling would stir in his stomach. He didn’t understand.

Two bodies, on the ground, it was like he was seeing double, than triple, then several many more. He started to lose count. At one point, he noticed there was a knife in his hand, that his face was twisted in an expression of satisfaction. His hands were covered in blood, and so were his pants. He’d have a hard time washing that out, Jason realized distantly. Death here, death there, death death everywhere, said the voice in his head. He knew he was feeling things, actual emotions. But they didn’t really seem to be there . They were foreign, unfamiliar, not his own. Jason could think of all the synonyms he knew to describe just how out of place the anger and the bloodlust and the malicious satisfaction felt. How out of place he himself felt. Kicked out of his own mind, out of control of his own body.

Even with past experiences in mind control and mind-twisting pits of torture, this still was like nothing he had ever felt before.

—

Jason didn’t know what day it was, what was happening, he just couldn’t tell. He couldn’t seem to keep track . It had been like this ever since the massacre, since he’d fought and lost the battle in his own mind.

Red Hood showed up in the Batcave after helping out with a quick op one night. Everyone seemed to be looking at him with distrust and suspicion, even though he’d just helped them out. Everyone except Dick, of course, who offered him a tight smile, but whose expression was otherwise unreadable.

Kill kill kill...Dick Grayson shall die...

“What? Why the oh so serious faces?” Jason’s voice drawled.

“Those drug traffickers on Monday,” began the big bat himself. Jason’s hand waved as if to wipe it all away. “Lay off it, B. I promise it wasn’t me, alright? I left before whoever murdered them all showed up.” The Replacement was frowning at him, and the Demon brat was scowling his way as well. Bruce thinned his lips, looking at him in that insufferable judgmental way he had. Jason felt himself scoffing, “I don’t owe you fools anything. ”

Please, he thought, this isn’t me. Please, I know it sounds like me but I swear it isn’t. His body went straight for his motorcycle, hopping on and driving away with the squealing of tires.

There are TWO POSSIBLE ENDINGS, the first one is Major Character Death, the second is “everybody lives”

Read the next chapter for tragedy, read the chapter after that for somewhat happy ending

Chapter Two: To Die

“Hey Jay? You alright?”

The prey has fallen into the trap...

Jason felt his head swivel in Dick’s direction, “What are you doing here, Dickface?”

“I don’t know, you just seemed to be acting a little off yesterday. I was just wondering if—”

“I’m fine.” Jason’s voice growled. “And I didn’t kill those people. So there’s nothing for you to report back to ol’ daddy bats up there on his high horse.” Dick scowled briefly, but then his expression smoothed. “I’m not here to spy on you, Jay. And I know it wasn’t you who killed those people.” His brother looked at him steadily, right in the eyes. No! Dick, you have to get away from me, he wants to kill y —

“It wasn’t you,” continued Dick, “It was whatever's controlling you.”

For a moment, Jason panicked. But whoever it was in his head let up quite a bit, and Jason suddenly felt lighter than air. It was like the first taste of water after days in the desert. Like he could finally breathe after an eternity of going without.

“Wha—” Jason stumbled, knees feeling weak. Dick rushed forward, catching him as he fell. “No...N—No, Dick, you can’t be here. ‘m a killer, that thing in my head, it—it wants to—”

“Shh, it’s okay, I’m here.” His hand carded through Jason’s hair. “We’ll figure this out, okay? We’ll figure this out.”

“It…it seems to have left me.” Jason said, voice trembling in awe as he flexed his fingers. It’d been so long…

—

Dick smiled down at his brother.

“It’s okay, Jay.” He said, “It must’ve fled when it realized I knew it was there.”

“How…how did you know, anyways?” Jason asked.

“I just…I had a feeling. You were acting off, and that look in your eye…”

“Thanks, Dick,” his little brother replied, but then his voice changed, sounding almost…fearful? “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” He asked, straining his ears, “I don’t—”

There was a loud roar and the sound of large, stomping feet. Dick frantically looked around, noticing as shadows creeped in from underneath the door. The air was charged with magic, power flowing throughout the room.

“It’s back,” whispered Jason, clutching Dick’s arm, “we should run.”

“Yeah,” Dick said, as if in a daze, “let’s go.”

It seemed so surreal, the supernatural monsters bursting through the door. Dick wasn’t sure what surprised him so much about it, he dealt with this kind of thing every other day. It’s just…

“Dickie,” said Jason, pulling him towards the window. “Snap out of it, they’re gaining on us.”

He shook his head, looking back—and yeah, the strange magical creatures were right behind them.

Jason jumped through the window, Dick following closely behind. They fired their grappling guns, arriving on the roof opposite in what felt like the blink of an eye.

“Hurry,” said a voice and—oh, it was Jason. It was coming out of Jason’s mouth, right? It must be Jason’s. “We should go that way.”

Dick looked his little brother in the eyes, grounding himself there, before following Jason’s lead as they ran across rooftops.

Dick felt like he was doing everything underwater, but it was…nice. Pretty great actually. He barely even noticed the burn in his legs, or how the monsters chasing them had odd-looking shadows.

Each time he looked back, all he saw was claws and teeth. Masses of fur and strange golden markings.

They paused for breath a few blocks away.

Dick wondered at Jason’s plan. It felt like there was something he should be doing…“Jay? What should we do? Where do we go?”

“That thing in my head seemed afraid of tall places…”

“The—The Wayne Enterprises building.” Dick replied almost immediately.

“Of course,” said Jason, bumping him with his shoulder, “How about a race?”

Dick grinned back at him, “Sure, why not.”

Adrenaline flooded his veins, and for a moment, he almost forgot about the monsters chasing them.

Jason nodded to him, and then they took off, running and jumping, grappling all across the city, heading for the tallest building around. Dick pressed himself to go faster, run harder, jump stronger .

He could see Jason out of the corner of his eye, also going considerably fast.

Jason wasn’t the only one Dick noticed, he also spotted several of them on Jason’s tail. The monsters seemed to move just as fast as they did. He could only hope his little brother could go fast enough to outrun them.

Dick reached the WE building first, skidding to a stop on the roof. Jason arrived soon after.

The monsters gathered a roof away, preparing to jump.

“I—I don’t understand, I thought you said they wouldn't follow us up here.” Dick looked at Jason, searching for answers in his expression.

His little brother’s features were soft, his eyes glittered with something strange and otherworldly. His voice was smooth and heavy with something familiar… “It’s okay, I have a plan, but there’s no time. Dick, do you trust me?”

“Of course I trust you, Little Wing.”

Darkness creeped up along the edges of the building, sliding onto the roof. Claws scraped against the ground, glowing gold eyes began to surround them. There was a single opening, a small bit of edge that had nothing on it.

Jason smiled, grabbing Dick’s grapple gun. And then pushed him off the roof.

Dick Grayson fell over 1,000 feet to the ground, all the while believing his brother would catch him.

Above, on the roof of Wayne Tower, Jason Todd’s eyes flashed gold.

Chapter Three: To Live

“Hey Jay? You alright?”

The prey has fallen into the trap...

Jason felt his head swivel in Dick’s direction, “What are you doing here, Dickface?”

“I don’t know, you just seemed to be acting a little off yesterday. I was just wondering if—”

“I’m fine.” Jason’s voice growled. “And I didn’t kill those people. So there’s nothing for you to report back to ol’ daddy bats up there on his high horse.” Dick scowled briefly, but then his expression smoothed. “I’m not here to spy on you, Jay. And I know it wasn’t you who killed those people.” His brother looked at him steadily, right in the eyes. No! Dick, you have to get away from me, he wants to kill y —

“It wasn’t you,” continued Dick, “It was whatever's controlling you.”

For a moment, Jason panicked. But whoever it was in his head let up quite a bit, and Jason suddenly felt lighter than air. It was like the first taste of water after days in the desert. Like he could finally breathe after an eternity of going without.

“Wha—” Jason stumbled, knees feeling weak. Dick rushed forward, catching him as he fell. “No...N—No, Dick, you can’t be here. ‘m a killer, that thing in my head, it—it wants to—”

“Shh, it’s okay, I’m here.” His hand carded through Jason’s hair. “This thing is here to test me Jay, I didn’t have a choice. I know you didn’t either, and I am so, so sorry for that Little Wing. We’ll figure this out, okay? We’ll figure this out.”

Jason opened his mouth to reply, when suddenly the presence was back, the voice along with it. Jason could feel his consciousness collapsing back, dissociating once again. He vaguely registered as one of his hidden daggers was swiftly drawn, and pressed harshly against Dick’s neck.

“Do you trust me?” asked Jason’s voice, a smirk spread across his face.

The question was meant to be mocking, but Dick answered seriously, “Of course, I know you’re still in there, Jay. I trust you.”

—

They stood on the roof of the WE building. Whoever was controlling Jason had used his strength to give Dick a good beating, and sent a picture of the aftermath to the bats. It was only a matter of time before they showed.

“One as special as Dick Grayson, must be able to trust at least one member of his family. Jason Todd is least likely to accept this trust, which makes my job so much easier. I look forward to his death,” said Jason’s voice while they waited.

Dick, all tied up, sporting a black eye and what were likely bruised ribs—grinned like a maniac. “I recognized your presence, didn’t I? I could tell there was something off with him, you nasty little f***er. You may think you chose your victim well, but you’re making a big mistake—Jay will pull through for me, and you will be torn away as if it were nothing.”

Wow, Dick just sounded so—so confident in Jason’s ability to do whatever it was he was supposed to do. Jason wasn’t sure he’d be able to overpower this thing, let alone destroy it.

“The rest of your so-called family will arrive any minute now, will you weep at their demise?”

Dick scowled, “The rules that you are bound to state that you can’t kill any of my loved ones before me.”

“I may not be able to kill them, but I’ve been doing this awhile, and I know all the loopholes to this little game.”

Behind them, the bats touched down on the roof. Jason felt himself turn to face them. It seemed that Bruce, Tim, Damian, and Steph all showed up for the party.

“Here to save your favorite Golden child?”

“What do you want?” Demanded Bruce, stoic as ever.

They never cared about you , none of them do. Hissed the voice in his head. Nobody trusts you

Nobody trusts you , Jason thought back at it, you murderous lying b****** .

It chuckled, ah, but it is not my face I’m wearing. It’s your's.

Outloud, Jason’s voice addressed the bats, “This is the price you pay for not trusting me, for letting Dick down. You didn’t even notice there was something different about him, did you? You didn’t even notice when Jason Todd was no longer Jason Todd.”

Bruce and Dick were the only ones who didn’t look confused at the words. Dick, because he seemed to know what was going on, and Bruce, because he was, well, Bruce. Batman’s face was as stoic as ever.

Jason felt his face twist into something surely ugly and murderous-looking.

Power surged through him, coming from seemingly nowhere. But Jason could feel it at his fingertips, being pushed into him and pulled out, he had no control over its course. The air around him became charged with magic, and then the bats were engulfed in a bright, golden light.

A moment later, Jason's eyes opened to find that all four of them were frozen in various positions and turned into a shiny golden color, standing still like statues.

The look of horror on Dick’s face hurt to look at, when Jason felt himself turn back to the man.

Quickly, Dick’s expression turned to that of anger, “What did you do to them?” he seethed. “Turn them back!”

“It’s too late, Dick Grayson. Once you are dead, your family will remain this way forever.”

Jason’s arms reached out, grabbing Dick and picking him up.

His feet took him to the edge of the roof, holding Dick out over the ground far, far below.

“J—Jay, listen to me, you can fight this. I know you can. You’re still in there, I believe in you.”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Jason watched as he dropped his brother over the edge.

Time seemed to stop.

No! He thought, pushing back as hard as he could against that malicious presence in his mind. Jason pictured Dick’s face, looking at him sincerely, a bead of blood forming where Jason’s own knife grazed his throat. “I trust you ,” he’d said.

Jason followed him over the edge before he even knew what he was doing. Shooting out his grapple instinctively, cutting through the air rapidly as he fell.

This is going to hurt , he thought, as he set himself on a collision course with Dick, but I think we’ll live.

[putas-in-suffering]

Mermaid

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW 18+ older

Warnings: Language, rough sex (slapping/manhandling), unprotected vaginal sex, mentions of bodily fluids, female ejaculation, some non-con elements, degradation (name calling), Dark/Dom Miguel, think Miguel and Emily’s fucked up vibe in that one scene...you know the one 😏

Word Count: 4.4K

Summary: Part 2. Miguel finds out about your tryst with Bishop and things take a dangerous turn.

A/N: Sucias! We got a present for you! We got Part 2 for our previously published Bishop fic Terms of Endearment. Check it out because it does tie in with this one. Also, it has Bishop smut. This has our Cartel Daddy hella mad and hella ready to destroy the pussy. Prepare yourselves because Miguel ain’t about to take it easy on you. Enjoy and share with your fellow sucias! Feedback is the preferred drug for our addiction and greatly appreciated 💖💖

*Read Part 3 here!

(Gif credit to @angels-reyes​​)

You flinched again when Miguel slammed his drink down, the sound angry and stern. He’d been in a bad mood since the moment you’d arrived nearly an hour ago. He’d called you earlier today and requested your presence at his home. He said he wanted to talk something over and insisted on having dinner prepared. You’d hesitated, flashes of letting Bishop Losa fuck you in a storage closet racing through your head. You could tell something was weighing heavy on Miguel’s mind, but you’d let it go and acquiesced to meeting him. Before Miguel was your employer, he was your best friend. And as much as you wanted to call it a night, you went anyway.

After the factory, you’d made more rounds, overseeing the operation and reporting back to Miguel via text. Once you’d gotten the stoic invitation for dinner, you’d raced home and showered the Mayans MC president off your skin. You ignored the pull to relive those memories as your fingers grazed your body, halting on the areas that Bishop had gripped so fiercely. There weren’t any visible markings, but you didn’t need to see it to know it had been there. You could still feel it.

You’d redressed for your impromptu dinner in a silk golden dress. The sleeves were long, the waist cinched, the skirt flowing over your hips and stopping around your ankles. There was a slit down the side, breaking up what would be a normally stylish conservative dress. You had yet to wear it. It was a gift from Miguel for your birthday a few months ago. You weren’t sure why you suddenly felt the need to wear it, but you’d be lying if you said guilt had no part in it. What you’d done was reckless and irresponsible, and if Miguel found out…well guilt would be the last thing you’d feel.

Another harsh clang of silverware pulled you from your thoughts. You winced as Miguel took a forceful bite of his steak, chewing with all the intensity of a caged pit bull. Beyond pleasantries, you hadn’t spoken to each other. The air was obviously tense, the mood uncomfortable. Miguel had purposefully made it that way. And you weren’t sure why.

“You look beautiful.”

The words made you pause mid-chew. Your eyes found Miguel’s staring back at you, his gaze somewhat softened but no less intense. He cleared his throat as he wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin, sipping from the amber liquid in his crystal glass.

“Uh, thank you.” You replied dumbly, still caught off guard by his choice in topic.

“The dress I bought you?”

You nodded, watching as he lent back in his seat to appraise you. You shifted awkwardly, feeling something simmering just beneath the surface. The house was empty, the staff dismissed for the night. The space was dimly lit. The reflection of the pool just beyond the glass doors was the only light outside. It should’ve been relaxing, romantic even, but the rigidity of the night was fast bleeding out and all over the white linen cloth that adorned the table.

“I have quite an eye. Fits you perfectly.” He continued on, swishing the whiskey in his glass.

“You do.”

“Why now?” He questioned, brow arched in your direction.

You straightened, the food on your plate long forgotten as you reached for your own glass. You swallowed the bitter liquid, the burn doing little to ease your frayed nerves. You weren’t afraid of Miguel, but you were afraid of the things he could do. You’d seen him at his worst and while you never expected to feel that kind of wrath directed at you, you couldn’t say it was impossible. You’d obviously done something to upset him. And you had an inkling of what that might be.

“Just felt right. Thought you’d like to see it.” You replied with a smile, hoping to convince both him and yourself.

Miguel returned the tight smile with his own, nodding as he adjusted the gold cuff links on his left wrist.

“I’ve known you a long time. Verdad?” He asked, the tone letting you know that it wasn’t a question that really needed an answer.

You did anyway.

“Yes.”

“And just like I’m sure you know me, I know you.”

Again it wasn’t something that needed verification, but you nodded in confirmation.

“I’ve let you run things on your own. I’ve let you manage without my supervision. I’ve entrusted you with delicate matters.”

Your breathing began to escalate with every word he spoke. He was calm, his demeanor almost peaceful as he met your eyes. His lips were quirked into a smirk, but you could see the hard ridge of his jaw beneath the well-groomed facial hair. He was clenching the muscle. And you knew from experience what that meant. He was actively trying to contain himself. Your gaze quickly shifted to his fingers, seeing that he was circling them on the tablecloth. Miguel had tells like everyone else and they were beaming in neon back at you. He was mad, no…livid.

“Miguel, what’s this about?” You dared to ask. You didn’t want to play this game with him. You’d seen it enacted out on many before you, none of it ever ending well for the person opposite Miguel Galindo. But you weren’t just some lowlife. You were his friend, practically his family. How dare he treat you like a traitor? You’d given your life to his business…to him.

“I’m not stupid, sirenita.” He bit back, intentionally using your childhood nickname. He usually said it with affection, but such was not the case this time. He was mocking the title, mocking you.

“And you think I am?” You retorted angrily, done playing nice.

“You must be to have let a man like Bishop Losa fuck you in my factory.” Miguel seethed, leaning across the table so that you could see the veins of his neck protruding from the crisp white collar of his shirt.

You’d been expecting the words, but shock seized you nonetheless. Having Miguel confront you about your sexual exploits made you feel childish and small. He glared at you with such disappointment that you could practically taste the sour flavor in your mouth.

“You must be fucking stupid to forget that I have every inch of that place bugged and under video surveillance. Even the storage closets.”

As much as you tried to fight it, you looked down in shame. He was right. You were stupid. In that moment you’d let lust fuel your decisions. But that didn’t mean that he got to disrespect you and treat you like a common whore. You’d seen plenty of his men come through the ranks and fuck on the job. And while it was a problem, it was also mostly laughed off. Men will be men bullshit. Fuck that.

“Who I fuck is none of your business.”

Miguel laughed, though it was obvious he found no humor in the situation. He scratched at his chin, his eyes darting everywhere except to you.

“You think that’s what this is about?”

“I know it is.” You said as you jutted your chin, no longer allowing him to reprimand you like some teenager.

He startled you by rising from his chair, slowly walking to you with measured steps. He said nothing at first as he perched on the edge of the table beside you, looking down at you. Just how he wanted it. He reached for you chin, but you jerked away. He wasn’t deterred. He repeated the action and this time you let him.

“You let him defile you. Let him make a mockery of me while you laughed. Your loyalty is now in question.” He whispered. His touch was gentle, but his words cut like a knife.  And they stung.

You jerked out of his grip, eyes wide with disbelief. Miguel had never talked to you in such a way. He’d never treated you so viciously. He’d always respected you. Always looked out for you. He took care of you, making sure you always had what you needed. He never once made you feel as low as you did in that moment. He may not get his hands dirty anymore, but he didn’t need to. His words were his weapons. They always had been. You’d just never been the one to take the hit before.

“You can’t be serious?” You asked, shaking your head.

He said nothing. The flames of fury began to rage hotter within you as he stared down his nose at you, looking at you in a way that he’d never done before.

“Fuck you.” You gritted out, narrowing your eyes up at him.

His lips lifted into a smirk, his eyes shifting to the neck of your dress. You shivered, feeling his gaze on your cleavage. It didn’t last long, but it was enough to make you react in an unexpected way. Your body felt warm with something other than anger. Your nipples hardened against the dainty fabric of your dress, not a gust of cool air to be found.

“You don’t think what you did was damaging to me? To this operation?” Miguel questioned, the irritation back in his words.

“So because I get fucked, your entire business is at stake? Is that what you’re telling me Miguel? Because it sounds like horseshit.” You stood from your chair and hovered in his face, smelling the alcohol on both of your breaths. “You’re mad because I let Bishop Losa fuck me and not you. This has nothing to do with business. You’re jealous.”

The air was sucked out of the room the moment the words left your mouth. You could see the minute they penetrated Miguel’s armor, see the deep rage making its way to the surface. He was tense and stiff, his eyes unrelenting and unforgiving as they stared straight through you.

You’d crossed a line, yet again. But you weren’t going to back down. You’d never been one to do so and you weren’t going to start now.

“Admit that to yourself, Miguel. Admit that’s what this is about.”

Silence.

He only continued to stare with that same void expression, looking as if he wanted to strangle you. His hands flexed as if testing the idea. You shivered again, though it was far from fear you were experiencing.

“I didn’t think so.” You taunted, a victorious smile making its way to your painted lips. You turned to leave, done with the conversation and your employer. If he wanted to act like a juvenile, then you’d treat him like one.

You made it two steps before a heavy hand gripped your elbow. You yelped at the force of the hold and the momentum used to spin you around. You nearly lost your footing, your heels making it difficult to balance. A pair of arms braced you, but they weren’t about to offer you comfort. They tightened around your midsection as they hauled you against the wall. Your head slammed with a brutal thud and you winced at the pain that radiated from your skull.

“Look at me.”

You forced your eyes open, meeting Miguel’s cold, murderous orbs. His fingertips dug into your upper arms while his chest heaved against yours with raggedy breaths. You matched his breathing, the fear most definitely taking hold now.

“You’ve forgotten who you work for…who owns you. I make the rules. I tell you when and where. I make you who you are. Me entiendes?” He didn’t wait for a response. “If I had known you’d rather whore yourself out I would’ve had you on your knees years ago.”

The slap echoed throughout the empty house. Your palm stung, the force of your strike still radiating through your arm. Miguel’s cheek was red, but he showed no other visible sign of being struck. His grip was still iron-clad on you, his breathing still rapid and manic.

“Go fuck yourself.” You snarled as you pushed against his chest, attempting to escape his clutches. He didn’t relent. You punched him, hitting him square in the jaw like he’d taught you years before. He released you instantly, cradling his face. You took the chance and ran for the door, but your dress and heels made it difficult to get any sort of real traction. Loud, foreboding footsteps boomed behind you as he caught up. He struck out and made contact with your arm, once again ensnaring you in his hold. You fought back this time, putting up a fight as he struggled to subdue you.

Another slap. Only this time it was you who was clutching their cheek.

“You fucking bastard.”

You charged at him, fists clenched and ready to damage his perfectly etched face. He reacted instantly, reaching for the back of your neck while he held your wrists together in the other. He was close. The both of you breathing in the other’s air. There was barely a sliver of space between your lips as you dared the other to make a move. You could feel the distinct outline of him against your stomach. He was hard. The notion should’ve sickened you. Little did he know, you’d been wet from the moment he’d called you a whore.

“If I wanted you, I could have you. Remember…I own you. Always have.” He declared cockily, eyes roaming your face, searching for any indication that you wanted him to put a stop to this.

You wouldn’t.

“I don’t belong to anyone. Least of all you.”

He licked his lips, a dot of blood already pooling to the surface where you’d hit him. The sight satisfied you.

“I feed you. I cloth you. I’ve made you everything that you are, sirenita. A whore playing dress up.”

You didn’t get a chance to respond before he locked his lips against yours in a brutal kiss. You struggled against him, unwilling to surrender. You slipped against the marble floors as he backed you against one of the columns, pinning your body against his own. His lips attacked you, teeth gnashing and tongue probing for entrance. His beard scratched at your skin and left a sting in its wake. You realized he’d let go of your wrists. Your hands were tangled in his shirt. You’d meant to push him away, but you’d pulled him closer instead. Your nails dug into his pectorals until you were rewarded with a sharp hiss. He bit your lip in retaliation, the taste of iron landing on your tongue.

His hands ripped at your dress, the slit now torn wide to reveal the black lace you wore underneath. The neck of your dress fell open to expose your braless breasts to his assault. He wasted no time in taking a pebbled nipple into his mouth, sucking so hard that you whimpered and jerked away. You tugged at the roots of his thick hair, pulling him from your chest. He was still bent down, his neck craned so that he had to look up at you. You admired the change in position, feeling a rush of desire at the sight of him hungry and dazed for you.

You took the opportunity to switch positions, swinging him around so that he was now trapped between you and the wall. Your hands went to the buckle of his belt and began to release him from the confines of his designer slacks. Your mouth watered as his cock sprang forward. It was thick and heavy; hot and throbbing in time with your pulse. You made sure he kept his eyes on you as you licked your palm, coating it in saliva. He clenched his jaw as he watched you, releasing a strangled moan when you wrapped your hand around him. He began to succumb to you, his body overwrought with the need to release.

“Who’s the whore now?” You provoked, tightening your hand around him. He cursed and thrust his hips in response, but he was far from letting you win.

He grasped your chin, bringing your face so close to his that you could see the outline of his blown wide pupils against the near black of his irises.

“I’m going to fill that mouth so full of cum that you’ll be tasting me for a fucking week.”

You swallowed and clenched your thighs, his words making your walls contract in tantalizing tremors. You wanted that. You wanted all of that and more.

“You can deny it all you want, but I know…I’ve always known. That pussy is mine. It belongs to the Galindo cartel.” His hand wandered down and over your breasts, sweeping under the band of lace that concealed you from view. He found your clit and teased it, encouraging the overflow of your arousal that was sure to come. “And it gets wet at the thought of me fucking you until you can’t walk. Right?”

You bit your lip and gasped as he entered you, massaging the wet heat of your walls with expert precision.

“Answer me.” He demanded, finger sliding further into your depths.

“Fuck you.”

You were working hard to keep the effect of his touch off your face. You remained impassive and cold, but the further he explored, the closer he brought you to that proverbial edge.

“Oh, you will…”

In a flash, you were hauled into his arms and pushed into the wall. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively. He ripped at your panties with one hand, the ruined fabric falling away from your body to land in a heap on the floor. The lace had rubbed harshly at your skin as he tore it away, but the feeling was eclipsed by the harsh thrust of his cock into your unsuspecting body. The action caught you off guard, pulling a breathless curse from your lips. Your body tightened and twisted around him and his cock, trying to accommodate the intruder.

“I knew you’d be tight.” He confessed into your neck as he began to thrust. His hips met yours in a ruthless pattern, merciless and cruel. You could only hold on as he took from you, pushing so deep that he hit the natural barrier within you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” You chanted as every line and ridge of his cock grazed beautifully so against your walls. Your spine twisted in both pain and pleasure, lights already dancing behind your lids. You tangled your fingers into his hair, scraping your nails against his scalp. He shuddered, the sensation traveling through his body and into your own.

He moved a second later, carrying you from the wall to the table you’d both been seated at only moments before. His motions were fast and unhinged, uncaring for you comfort as he slipped from your grasp. You both hissed, but didn’t have a chance to relish the emptiness as he turned you around, arching your ass into position.

“Bend over.”

You practically fell face first into the table as he pushed your head down. Your arms caught you just in time as you spread your legs and welcomed him between them. He shoved your dress up and landed a sharp slap to your right ass cheek, the sting reverberating through your lower half. You flinched and threw him a withering glare over your shoulder. His hands spread you, his cock nestled between your folds as he readied to enter you once again. Your thighs were slick, your walls now primed enough for him to slide uninhibited. He was taking without asking, without remorse, and you ate it up, daring him to give you more.

You moaned at the same time he grunted, his cock now back inside of you. You squeezed your eyes shut against the onslaught of euphoria, feeling the web of climax begin to weave itself around you. You pulled at the tablecloth beneath you as Miguel thrust deep, his hips flush with yours as he penetrated your fucking soul. You could feel his eyes burning into you, no doubt  taking extreme pleasure in seeing you be such a slut for his cock.

“Are you going to cum?” He ground out, hands still holding your ass apart to watch.

“Yes…”

“Do it now.”

You whined as he began assailing your clit with his finger, rubbing so hard that you felt your eyes cross in your skull. The feeling was foreign, more powerful and unexplored. You shied away from it, unwilling to let go.

“Don’t fight it.” Miguel ordered, feeling your body flinch away. He only went faster and harder, intent on making you come undone.

You had no choice. You gave yourself over to it, letting him pull your orgasm from the depths and send it to the surface. You readied for the inevitable and cried out when your body began to convulse. You were only mildly aware of the gush of liquid that left your body as you were flung into space and launched into a chamber of weightlessness. Miguel’s praises and groans tickled your skin as he bathed himself in your release. He pulled his cock from your depths and let you soak him as he watched in rapt fascination.

“Fuck, just like that…” He said in awe, his cock once again sliding along your folds as your pussy  continued to contract against him.

Your face was pressed into the table, your ass still in the air and presented like some kind of prize. You panted with exertion as your limbs became lethargic and sated with the buzz of desire. It felt like an hour had passed, but in reality it’d only been seconds.

You were flipped onto your back, the whiplash making you dizzy. Plates and glasses toppled to the pristine floor as Miguel pried your legs open and resumed fucking you with wild abandon. Your eyes rolled and your toes curled as he fucked you through your post-coitus high. You were moving with every brute thrust, your body shifting up the table. You caressed your breasts as he looked on, growling in approval. His hair was tousled, his lip bleeding with his shirt untucked and pants undone. He’d never looked sexier.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum.” He breathed as he doubled his efforts. He ravaged your body with a new ferocious energy, pulling away when the feeling became too much. He wrapped his hand around himself and pulled at your ankle with the other. “On your knees.”

You nearly slid off the table, your heels barely touching the ground before he was pushing you to kneel. You did as he wanted, meeting his devious stare with a bat of your lashes.

“Open your mouth.”

You complied, sticking out your tongue as he jerked himself off. The head of his cock released streams of thick, white cum seamlessly onto your awaiting tongue. He aimed it perfectly, ensuring it all ended up in your mouth and nowhere else. You could feel it already sliding down your throat as you waited for him to finish.

“Swallow it.”

He held your chin, keeping your mouth closed and running his thumb over your lips. You obeyed and swallowed down every drop, savoring the decadence. He looked down at you with a worshipful eye, an expression that was usually reserved for your professional accomplishments. You relished it, just as you did all the times before.

Miguel tucked himself back into his pants and then reached a hand out to you. You accepted his help and stood, albeit on shaky legs. You clutched the front of your dress together, the thing nearly shredded on your frame. You waited for him to say something, but he only turned and walked to the kitchen counter where his phone sat. He picked it up and walked back to you, his attention focused on the digital screen at his fingertips.

“I know everything that happens within my operation. Sometimes people have to be reminded.” He was back to being calm, not an ounce of irritation left on his handsome features. “I’ve done that with you. And now I’ll do that with Bishop.”

Your blood ran cold when he showed you the screen of his phone. Footage of what just transpired between you two played out, a security timestamp at the bottom of the screen making you aware that this was the real deal. Every moment, every obscene action and insult was captured for anyone to see. Humiliation rushed through you.

“I’m the only one that has access to this. But by tomorrow morning Bishop Losa will receive a clip of this footage. A message that he’s touched what’s mine and to never do so again.”

He shoved his phone into his pocket and stepped towards you. You remained unmoving, no energy left to fight with Goliath. He caressed your cheek gently, the patronizing tone now back in his voice.

“This is part of your punishment. Take it like I know you can. Okay?” He prompted. His gentleness was soothing, but a farce. He’d made his point and now you had to fall in line. You were just a solider, taking orders from the commander. And he was reminding you of that.

“Sirenita,” He called, the affection that’d been missing the last time he’d used the name now unmistakable.

You met his eyes. They were back to the mahogany color you’d grown to love. The darkness no longer shrouding him. He cradled your cheek, noting the way you winced when he touched the still tender flesh.

“Say okay.”

“Okay.” You finally replied, defeat coating the word.

“I’ll get this cleaned up tomorrow.” He gestured to the mess behind you, the dining table looking as if a bull raged through. “It’s late. Go upstairs and shower. I’ll be up in a bit.”

You went to refuse, but he stopped you with a kiss. You responded back eagerly, tangling your tongue with his and letting him taste himself. By the time he pulled away, you were both breathing heavily, hearts beating wildly.

“Things are going to be different. You’ll be with me for a while. No more solo missions.”

You tried not to let the disappointment show at his words. You were being demoted. From right hand to whore. You now belonged to Miguel in the one way you said you never would. You’d  refused him for so long because you knew the power he held over you…knew the type of life he could give you. It’d be everything you’d wanted and more. Addicting. Luxurious. Lawless. You’d get so lost in him that you’d lose yourself. You knew it. But you’d made a mistake and you had to repent. And you’d do so willingly.

You’d go from whore to housewife in an instant. You’d be his Queen before long…back to running things. Only this time you’d do so with your legs wide and your mouth open. If Miguel wanted a cartel whore, then he’d get one.

[yutahoes]

Otou-Chan

Yuta Nakamoto x Reader (Y/N) Smut

(Chapter Nine)

Summary: 𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐡𝐰𝐚 𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝.𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐘𝐮𝐭𝐚’𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬.

Warning:   Abuse, Sexual Fantasies, Light Fluff

Word Count: 2.2k

Masterlist

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ ❤️❤️

9. Proposal

(Y/N) was busy the whole week with work-related stuff. It was Friday when she called that she wanted to work from home since her tablet isn't really working and that she needed to work on her own computer for the draft that she's doing. There is too much work and it doesn't help that her father is out to who knows where.

The landlady knocked on the door, asking for the rent payment that made her slap her forehead in annoyance. Why did she forget about that? "I'll give you two days, give me my money." the older claimed that made her sigh once the door closed. Where will she get that money? All her savings went to the Paris trip and her loans as well, so what can she do?

Paris, she thought. Maybe she can sell off the things that Yuta had given her, it might cost a fortune. She started getting her luggage and bringing out the shoes, dress, and bag that he bought her. With a loud sigh, she started gazing at it. Wore it once after being left on the floor so maybe she can still sell it at a reasonable price. Upon checking the bag, something fell that surprised her, a black card. Yuta's black card. Didn't she return it to him? Is he not looking for it?

The card is tempting her but this isn't right. She decided to stop seeing Yuta because of this reason but here she is, looking at the card as if enchanted by it. Maybe a small amount wouldn't really hurt the card? She just needed to pay for the rent and she can pay Yuta when she had enough money. Yes, maybe she can do that.

Instead of staying home as she promised Jungwoo, she went out to withdraw cash from the card. She was silently praying that her conscience wouldn't kill her after this. When the machine asked for a pin, she remembered 1026 and started typing it. A message confirmed that she can get 10000 from the card that surprised her. That easy?

Pulling the card out and the money, she was surprised to see her father looking at the black shiny object. "Appa," she called then decided to hide the card but he wrestled her into giving it to him. Her dad is a martial artist before so it is a fail attempt to hide the card. He slapped her cheek, causing her to fall to the ground letting go of the black card. He called for a cab before she can stand up and she cursed herself for not being careful and deciding to use the card in the first place.

She grew worried when her dad didn't go home that night. Although she had the cash to give the landlady for rent, she kept on holding it worried about something. Should she tell Yuta? But then, that would cause a lot of issues. He might really think that she's taking advantage of him which is the reason why she stayed away from him. Damn, what should she do now?

--

Yuta was standing in his office for a while now, overlooking the city of Seoul and hoping to see someone familiar. From what Jaehyun had told him, their publishing house isn't really near the area so why is he hoping? He missed her, her scent, her voice, her face. This was like Paris all over again. Why is he like this when other women were throwing themselves at him? Why is he so hung up with that one girl who obviously doesn't want him back? A knock on the door disturbed his thoughts as his secretary, Kim Doyoung opened the door. "The HR wanted these signed," he claimed, placing the folder on his desk. He loudly sighed before complying, signing the piece of paper without even reading on it.

The younger was bothered at the sudden attitude. Normally, Yuta would be very careful about everything. Checking the documents first and handing them to him for revisions before signing them. "Are you alright?" he asked that made the older nod, sighing. "You look sick, should I call your doctor?"

Yuta just shook his head, looking at his secretary for a year. Doyoung had always been his trusting friend and when he was handed the company, he can't find anyone to be his secretary other than Doyoung who was studying music at that time. He hated that he took a dream away from him but the younger agreed to be his secretary because of his connections to the media. Now, Doyoung knows more from his life than his friends. "I think I have withdrawal symptoms," he claimed that made the other laugh. "From what? You don't smoke and you rarely drink," he claimed then stopped. "Are you taking drugs?" But he just shook his head, claiming that it is worse than drugs. "A girl, perhaps?" he asked that made the CEO lightly glance at his secretary. "I didn't know you had it in you, Yuta but I hope you can see your girl soon and end this depression." The older smirk and in a silent voice whispered, 'I hope so too'.

--

Yuta was in a meeting with Chinese investors when his phone buzzed, signaling a message. It was the end of an hour-long argument with men in their late forties about the needed technologies in the company when he checked where it was, surprised that it was from a bank. Apparently, someone had withdrawn a hundred thousand dollars from his account and since it's too big of an amount, the bank decided to inform him. Obviously, he was surprised. He remembered that card number, the lost black card in Paris. Someone from Korea has it? Then it clicked. (Y/N). They were together that night when he thought he lost it so maybe she is using it. But a hundred thousand dollars? What is that girl up to? But maybe this is his chance to see her again even if it is a weird circumstance.

(Y/N) was busy for work, editing Ten's illustration for the deadline tomorrow when she received a call from an unknown number. "Is this (Y/N)?" the man asked that made her say yes on the other line. "Can you please come to the police station for questioning?" he asked that made her nervous. This is it. The thing she's scared of. But it took days for her dad to do something.

Johnny was worried when she asked her editor in chief to leave early but she assured that it's just a personal matter. Instead of taking a cab to the station, she took the bus which is way cheaper even if it meant an hour walk. She was breathing heavily when she reached the station, surprised that her dad is in front of someone and kneeling. Upon closer inspection, she saw the man as Yuta. Of course, this is about his card. "Are you, Ms. (Y/N)?" the officer asked that made the others look at her. "I got the card from her, she was the one who stole it." her dad claimed that made her surprised. Why is he like this in front of strangers? "Don't put me to jail, lock her instead."

Yuta stared at the girl in pity. Why is her father like this? Just to save himself? "Appa..." she whispered with a shaky voice. "Ever since you came to my life, everything fell apart. Your mom left, I didn't have a proper job. And all you ever thought about was to go to that stupid country." he claimed then stood up, holding both her arm in anger. (Y/N) had no other choice but to cry at the pain, his hold on her, and the words coming out from his mouth. "You are so selfish; I shouldn't have let you live when I had the chance." His fist was high in the air, ready to aim at her but Yuta had blocked it with his arm. "I don't think violence can resolve something." the younger claimed. Already seeing black, the older guy started punching Yuta in the face for intruding a family matter that made the police separate them.

"Sir, you are at fault here." the officer claimed at the older guy then glanced at his daughter. "You can press charges against your dad for hurting you or we'll let him out since Mr. Nakamoto isn't pressing charges." The sentence made (Y/N) look at Yuta. He stole from him; they stole from him so why isn't he pressing for charges? "Mr. Nakamoto, you also can make a report since he hurt you." And that was the last thing in (Y/N)'s mind.

Yuta was looking at the girl who was frozen on her spot, watching her dad getting handcuffed by the police. It actually broke his heart seeing her this hurt and just wanted to take away everything from her and give her all the happiness. "No. It's fine." Yuta claimed that surprised the girl, relief seen in her eyes. And he wished to see her like this always.

Her dad was sent for a night in prison since he offended an officer and (Y/N) found herself alone at the bus stop. Now that she heard what her dad truly feels about her, where would she go? It's only natural to leave him and run away. But where can she go? A familiar black car stopped in front of her and the windows were lowered down from the passenger seat. "It's late. The bus won't come anymore." And she sighed, that is probably why she was waiting for it and it didn't come. Just like a miracle in her life. "I'll drive you home."

"But I don't want to go home," she mumbled unconsciously that made the guy turn off the engine of his car. Yuta went out of his car and sat beside the girl who was just looking at her curiosity. "It felt weird seeing you like this." he started and she just nodded, unable to form a coherent answer. "Do you have any place that you want to go?" he asked and she smiled, muttering Paris. "It was a dream while in Paris," she claimed and he nodded. It was simple, Yuta thought, she just needed to say it and he'll book a flight to Paris with her. "I have to thank you for that. And for keeping my dad out of jail," she said quietly while staring at her shoes. "About the money, I'll just pay you back..."

"No. Don't," he said that made her look at him in surprise. "That's a small amount, (Y/N)." But she just laughed bitterly. “Just mention a word and I’ll bring you to Paris again. We can run away from your dad. I’ll be responsible for you.”

"You just don't get it, do you?" And Yuta had the most curious expression on his face. What's there to get? “Please, don’t pity me Yuta.”

He hissed at that. How stubborn. “Do you want me to adopt you?”

The girl chuckled at that. That was the most ridiculous idea she ever heard. What is she a child? Is this some kind of a daddy kink on Yuta’s part? Well, she remembered how wild he became when she called her daddy. Maybe, it is. “Oh. I get it now,” she claimed. “Yuta you can’t just pay me because we had sex. I’m not that kind of girl.”  

Yuta was agitated, how dare she think that he's just after her body when she's taking over his mind like this? But then these things happened because of his mistake on the plane. If he would just think carefully and not ask her to follow him at that time, they may be on the right foot now. Then maybe she can come with him to his apartment and... Fuck, he really did want her body. Feeling guilty, he swerved the car back to the bus stop surprised to see no sign of the girl. Where could she be? And this late? With no choice, he headed to her place, the house he dropped her off from before. The lights were out, is she asleep yet? Is she not home? Damn, why doesn't he have her number? Maybe Jaehyun could help.

To Yuta's dismay, his friend is too intoxicated for him to answer with coherence. All he understood was that she doesn't have a phone. Who the hell wouldn't have a phone this year? But then, glancing at his surroundings maybe having a phone is a luxury for her like the plane ticket to Paris. She doesn't deserve any of it actually. Jaehyun would always tell him things about her, going to work on time, and even leaving the last from the office. Since she's the newest employee, her co-workers depend on her in editing and even the smallest things like coffee. Then, there's her dad who obviously hates her. Now, he made it a point to make her his own Cinderella whether she likes it or not.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ ❤️❤️

Chapter 8 / Chapter 10

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

December 18, 2020

Heather Cox Richardson

A year ago today, the House of Representatives voted to impeach President Donald J. Trump on charges of abuse of power and obstruction of Congress.

In his plea to Senators to convict the president, Adam Schiff (D-CA), the lead impeachment manager for the House, warned “you know you can’t trust this president to do what’s right for this country.” Schiff asked: “How much damage can Donald Trump do between now and the next election?” and then answered his own question: “A lot. A lot of damage.” “Can you have the least bit of confidence that Donald Trump will… protect our national interest over his own personal interest?” Schiff asked the senators who were about to vote on Trump’s guilt. “You know you can’t, which makes him dangerous to this country.’’

Republicans took offense at Schiff’s passionate words, seeing them as criticism of themselves. They voted to acquit Trump of the charges the House had levied against him.

And a year later, here we are. A pandemic has killed more than 312,000 of us, and numbers of infections and deaths are spiking. Today we hit a new single-day record of reported coronavirus cases with 246,914, our third daily record in a row. The economy is in shambles, with more than 6 million Americans applying for unemployment benefits. And the government has been hobbled by a massive hack from foreign operatives, likely Russians, who have hit many of our key departments.

Today it began to feel as if the Trump administration was falling apart as journalists began digging into a number of troubling stories.

Acting Defense Secretary Christopher Miller, appointed by Trump after he fired Defense Secretary Mark Esper by tweet on November 9, this morning abruptly halted the transition briefings the Pentagon had been providing, as required by law, to the incoming Biden team. Observers were taken aback by this unprecedented halt to the transition process, as well as by the stated excuse: that Defense Department officials were overwhelmed by the number of meetings the transition required. Retired four-star general Barry R. McCaffrey, a military analyst for NBC and MSNBC, tweeted: “Pentagon abruptly halts Biden transition—MAKES NO SENSE. CLAIM THEY ARE OVERWHELMED. DOD GOES OPAQUE. TRUMP-MILLER UP TO NO GOOD. DANGER.”

After Axios published the story and outrage was building, Miller issued a statement saying the two sides had decided on a “mutually-agreed upon holiday, which begins tomorrow.” Biden transition director Yohannes Abraham promptly told reporters: “Let me be clear: there was no mutually agreed upon holiday break. In fact, we think it’s important that briefings and other engagements continue during this period as there’s no time to spare, and that’s particularly true in the aftermath of ascertainment delay," a reference to the delay in the administration’s recognition of Biden’s election.

Later, the administration suggested the sudden end to the transition briefings was because Trump was angry that the Washington Post on Wednesday had published a story showing how much money Biden could save by stopping the construction of Trump’s border wall. Anger over a story from two days ago seems like a stretch, a justification after the briefings had been cancelled for other reasons. The big story of the day, and the week, and the month, and the year, and probably of this administration, is the sweeping hack of our government by a hostile foreign power. The abrupt end to the briefings might reflect that the administration isn’t keen on giving Biden access to the crime scene.

Republicans appear to be trying to cripple the Biden administration more broadly. The country has been thrilled by the arrival of the Pfizer-BioNTech coronavirus vaccine that promises an end to the scourge under which we’re suffering. Just tonight, the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) authorized a second vaccine, produced by Moderna, for emergency authorization use. This vaccine does not require ultracold temperatures for shipping the way the Pfizer-BioNTech vaccine does. Two vaccines for the coronavirus are extraordinarily good news.

But this week, as the first Pfizer-BioNTech vaccines were being given, states learned that the doses the federal government had promised were not going to arrive, and no one is quite sure why. The government blamed Pfizer, which promptly blasted the government, saying it had plenty of vaccines in warehouses but had received no information about where to send them. Then the White House said there was confusion over scheduling.

Josh Kovensky at Talking Points Memo has been following this story, and concluded a day or so ago that the administration had made no plans for vaccine distribution beyond February 1, when the problem would be Biden’s. Kovensky also noted that it appears the administration promised vaccine distribution on an impossible timeline, deliberately raising hopes for vaccine availability that Biden couldn’t possibly fulfill. Today Kovensky noted that there are apparently doses missing and unaccounted for, but no one seems to know where they might be.

Today suggested yet another instance of Republican bad faith. With Americans hungry and increasingly homeless, the nation is desperate for another coronavirus relief bill. The House passed one last May, but Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell refused to take it up. Throughout the summer and fall, negotiations on a different bill failed as Republicans demanded liability protection for businesses whose employees got coronavirus after they reopened, and Democrats demanded federal aid to states and local governments, pinched as tax revenue has fallen off during the pandemic. Now, though, with many Americans at the end of their rope, McConnell indicated he would be willing to cut a deal because the lack of a relief package is hurting the Republican Senate candidates before the runoff election in Georgia on January 5. Both sides seemed on the verge of a deal.

That deal fell apart this afternoon after Senator Pat Toomey (R-PA) with the blessing of McConnell, suddenly insisted on limiting the ability of the Federal Reserve to lend money to help businesses and towns stay afloat. These were tools the Trump administration had and used, but Treasury Secretary Steven Mnuchin tried to kill them after Trump lost the election. The Federal Reserve’s ability to manage fiscal markets is key to addressing recessions. Removing that power would gravely hamper Biden’s ability to help the nation climb out of the recession during his administration.

It’s hard not to see this as a move by McConnell and Senate Republicans to take away Biden’s power—power enjoyed by presidents in general, and by Trump in particular—to combat the recession in order to hobble the economy and hurt the Democrats before the 2022 election.

Money was in the news in another way today, too. Business Insider broke the story that the Trump campaign used a shell company approved by Jared Kushner to pay campaign expenses without having to disclose them to federal election regulators. The company was called American Made Media Consultants LLC. Trump’s daughter-in-law, Lara Trump, was president, and Vice President Mike Pence’s nephew, John Pence, was vice president until the two apparently stepped down in late 2019 to work on the campaign. The treasurer was the chief financial officer of the Trump campaign, Sean Dollman.

The Trump campaign spent more than $700 million of the $1.26 billion of campaign cash it raised in the 2020 cycle through AMMC, but to whom it paid that money is hidden. Former Republican Federal Election Commission Chairman Trevor Potter is trying to take up the slack left by the currently crippled Federal Elections Commission. His organization, the Campaign Legal Center, a nonpartisan clean election group, last July accused the Trump campaign of "disguising" campaign funding of about $170 million "by laundering the funds" through AMMC.

This news adds to our understanding that Trump is leaving the White House with a large amount of cash. He has raised more than $250 million since November 3, urging his supporters to donate to his election challenges, but much of the money has gone to his own new political action committee or to the Republican National Committee. Recently, he has begged supporters to give to a “Georgia Election Fund,” suggesting that the money will go to the runoff elections for Georgia’s two senators, but 75% of the money actually goes to Trump’s new political action committee and 25% to the Republican National Committee.

Shane Goldmacher and Maggie Haberman at the New York Times note that are very few limits to how Trump can spend the money from his new PAC.

—-

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

[route22ny]

Long live Ida: Trailblazing life of journalist and activist Ida B. Wells

She was born in slavery, but she would not be chained.

Long after the Civil War ended, Ida B. Wells continued to fight for freedom. She battled segregation, wrote groundbreaking exposés, and marched for women’s suffrage.

Wells set out to change the law and ended up inspiring a nation.

Her descendants have long cherished her memory. Now her great-granddaughter, Michelle Duster, pays tribute in “Ida B. the Queen: The Extraordinary Life and Legacy of Ida B. Wells.”

The woman who grew up to be someone federal agents called “one of the most dangerous Negro agitators” was born in Holly Springs, Miss., on July 16, 1862. She grew up in a family of 10. After the war, her father opened his own carpentry business. The family thrived.

Then, in 1878, an epidemic of yellow fever swept through the region. It took both of Wells’ parents and her youngest brother. She was now not only orphaned, but the sole support of seven. She was 16.

Wells put on a long dress and pulled her hair up into a bun to make herself look older. Then she went out and secured a job as a teacher. After all, she now had a family to take care of.

A few years later, Wells took on an extra job, too: Fighting for equal rights. By 1883, the family had moved to Memphis, where Wells taught grade school in neighboring Woodcock. She regularly took the train to work, and she regularly refused to sit in the car set aside for Blacks.

The first time the conductor told her to move, she refused. When he grabbed her, she bit his hand. It took three men to finally throw her off.

The second time it happened, Wells sued.

The railroad bought off her first lawyer. But Wells found another who took her case — and won. The circuit court judge awarded her an astonishing $500 in damages. But before she collected a penny, the state Supreme Court reversed the decision.

“Oh God, is there no redress, no peace, no justice in this land for us?” she wrote in her diary after. “Come to my aid at this moment & teach me what to do, for I am sorely disappointed. Show us the way, even as Thou led the children of Israel out of bondage.”

The more Wells mulled over the inequities and how to battle them, the more she felt that way might be through journalism.

She began writing articles for her local literary club. Soon, her column in the Living Way ran weekly under the pen name “Iola.” Wells’ pieces about race relations, politics and feminism were eventually picked up by other newspapers, including the influential, Black-owned New York Freeman.

“If Iola were a man,” its editor declared, “she would be a humming independent in politics. She has plenty of nerve and is as sharp as a steel trap.”

Wells’ determination to speak her mind cost her one career. Furious that her articles exposed racism in the school system, the Memphis Board of Education dismissed her in 1891. That gave her more time to dedicate herself to her true calling — crusading journalist.

Her first great cause came in 1892, with the People’s Grocery killings. The small, Black-owned business just outside Memphis had become a success, even attracting business away from a nearby white merchant. Tensions rose steadily.

Finally, the white man called in a false report that the competing store was a criminals’ hideout. The sheriff sent armed, hastily deputized citizens to investigate. When they stormed the store that night, without identifying themselves, the three terrified Black storeowners fired, wounding several in the confusion.

Unsurprisingly, the Black men were held responsible. They were seized, tortured and lynched. Their bodies were dumped in a field.

“This is what opened my eyes to what lynching really was,” Wells said later. “An excuse to get rid of Negroes who were acquiring wealth and property, and thus keep the race terrorized.”

She began the great work of her life: Exposing the white terrorism that much of the country still tried to pass off as justice. Her first pamphlet, published in 1892, was “Southern Horrors: Lynch Law in All Its Phases.” Although she was already receiving death threats, the cover bore a big, bold portrait of the author, along with her name.

A book, “The Red Record,” followed in 1895, detailing more than 30 years of lynchings. To head off any claims of misrepresentation, Wells pointed out that every horrific fact in it had already been published in white newspapers. Hoping to bring international pressure to bear, she gave speeches across Great Britain for two months.

She had already won respect in America. “Let me give you thanks for your faithful paper on the lynch abomination,” Frederick Douglass wrote her after “Southern Horrors.”

“Brave woman! You have done your people and mine a service which can neither be weighed nor measured.”

Wells married Black attorney Ferdinand L. Barnett in 1895. They eventually settled in Chicago, joined their careers as authors and activists, and had four children.

And she broadened her work. An early proponent of women’s suffrage, Wells refused to let the movement’s white feminists push her aside. When her all-Black group, the Alpha Suffrage Club, went to Washington in 1913 to join a national protest, they were told to march at the very back of the parade so as not to offend any Southern ladies. Wells nodded.

And then, when the march began, she proved again why she was a leader and had her members take their place with the rest of the Illinois delegation.

Her stubbornness was an inspiration to many but worrisome to a few. Although Wells had several pioneering successes — setting up kindergartens for Black children, doing social work among parolees — she also angered the powerful. The New York Times called her “slanderous and nasty-nasty-minded.” White politicians shunned her.

In 1917, she took up the cause of Black soldiers executed for rioting in Houston’s streets. Federal agents visited and warned she could be charged with treason.

If this were treason, Wells answered, quoting the patriot Patrick Henry, then her enemies should “make the most of it.”

“I’d rather go down in history as one lone Negro who dared to tell the government that it had done a dastardly thing than to save my skin by taking back what I have said,” she declared. “I would consider it an honor to spend whatever years are necessary in prison as the one member of the race who protested, rather than be with all the 11,999,999 Negroes who didn’t.”

Federal agents opened a file on her. And she kept speaking out until her death in 1931, at age 68.

There were low points; times she lost faith, times she doubted herself — if never the causes she fought so fiercely for. At one point, toward the end of her life, she confessed, “All at once the realization came to me that I had nothing to show for all those years of toil and labor.” But still, she pressed on. Looking back over her struggles, she declared, “If it had to be done over again … I would do and say the very same.”

[m4-05spersonalblog]

The M4 siblings fanfiction

Chapter 1: In the name of journalism

It had only been a day since M4 discovered the story, a republic senator for a mining colony in the mid-rim and imperial captain stationed near the remains of Ziost both turn up dead at the exact same time, and security footage reveals it as the culprit, though M4 had killed plenty of people by now, some more notorious and a lot more powerful than a senator and captain, so what’s 2 more kills under it’s designation after all? The reporter who first made the story public fell to the floor of his office, set ablaze, as he looked up, paralyzed with the utmost fear of the one responsible, in front of him stood M4-05 and it’s faithful akk dog partner, Murjr, M4 grabs the man by the collar, lifting him off the ground as the droid places it’s wristblade to his neck, speaking to him in a tone of pure anger “I don’t appreciate slander, especially slander that puts the few people in the galaxy I have left at risk, now tell me what do you know about those imposters.” The reporter was speechless, as M4 pressed it’s blade further against his neck he began to fumble for words, “I- I- was told that the one who killed the senator worked for sith intelligence, I just thought it was you collecting on those bounties you do when your owner doesn’t need you shoving people who only want to give the public the truth aside!” In a sudden burst of emotion, M4 pins the reporter against the wall, slowly causing blood to drip from the man’s neck, if he didn’t talk quick enough he would surely die, but before he could try and save his own life M4 gets in the first word “Here’s a story for you to publish. I. Am. Nobodies. Property!” M4 continuously slammed the reporter against the wall before cutting his throat entirely, stepping back and allowing Murjr to get some bites in of the man, though the akk dog quickly changes he spits out what was bitten off quickly. The two partners walk out of the reporter’s house before M4 sets off a disintegration bomb inside, wiping the evidence from the building as it slowly crumbled down a flaming mess, if there was an imperial copy of M4, then there was bound to be a republic one as well, but only 2 questions remained in M4’s metal head, how to destroy them and make sure it’s not copied again.

Chapter 2: Enter “Vanguard”

Cheers roar out from a bar on the upper levels of coruscant as a group of soldiers celebrate a recent victorious campaign, talking about sticking it to the imperials and what-not, with other patrons of the bar celebrating as patriots alongside their protectors, better known as ‘Sigma Squad’. As the celebrations were in full swing the bar doors open and a droid with claw-like feet, a built-in jetpack and face plating walks in and up to sigma squad, prompting more cheers from the soldiers. The orange and white droid looks at the squad before introducing itself, it’s voice contained that of a proud republic accent as it gives a salute, “M4-06, code name: vanguard, the first of the 06 assault series developed by the SIS for usage by special operations squads, having completed my testing I have been transferred to act as a member of sigma squad, effective immediately.” The hulking sigma squad commander chuckles and pats the droid’s shoulder “Don’t worry vanguard, we knew you were coming, welcome to the squad! I was told you had our next mission for us, but that can wait, come, join the party!” The squad and bar patrons partied on until dark and they got kicked out by the barkeep. Back at the republic command centre, the squad, once more suited up in armour looked eagerly at their newest addition to relay their next mission to them, the droid robotically looks at the squad before projecting a holo-image of 2 droids that looked near-identical to it. “These are M4-05 and M4-07, M4-05 is the droid I am based off, a dangerous mercenary and republic defector, M4-07 is my sibling who was stolen and modified by sith intelligence during the early stages of our development, command has decided it is up to us to destroy them, for the republic.” The commander walks up next to Vanguard and gives some final words “I’ll requisition the gear we need ASAP, we leave at 06:00 in the morning, we have our orders, sigma squad, move out!” The squad walk out as the commander turns to Vanguard and simply directs the droid to follow him to requisition the gear needed.

Chapter 3: Preparations After a sudden jump to hyperspace M4 forces open a security crate, laying it’s optics on the deadly contents. “Looks like Azutek came through” M4 plainly stated as it picked out the disruptor rifle, sealing the rest of the contents back in the case before putting it in a smuggling compartment “Best keep those unarmed unless I have to use them” the droid simply mutters to itself, the silence aboard the tenacity was beginning to cause M4 to go mad again, without distraction M4 only did what it had ever known, calculate. Every movement, every second, every destination and every purpose had to be flawless, if not, go back to the start and do it all again until it’s right. This feeling of loneliness, even if it was to keep one of the few people in the galaxy M4 cared about safe, was something it simply couldn’t push back forever, going so far as to turn off it’s face lights and removing it’s faceplates just so it could practice everything with it’s own, unfiltered optics, M4 wanted every advantage possible, even if that meant pushing it’s only body built for combat to the absolute limit. As time went on M4 slowed down it’s combat calculations and began thinking more straightforward, it had an idea of a plan, but nothing specific, all it knew was to lure it’s copies to a location and destroy them both at the same time, what remained was, how and where? It needed an unrealistic amount of luck to even get the 2 to the same location and luck wasn’t logical, M4 pondered about this for some time, talking to itself in it’s lonely state “Luck… luck, there is not a possible way to calculate such a thing or even obtain it, to a point, luck can be considered something a person is born with, the concept of luck favors those incredibly stupid for they would not survive without some form of intervention… ugh” M4 waves it’s head around in annoyance realizing that out of the statistical odds of it, it knew one of the luckiest idiots in the entire galaxy, and it owed the idiot a favour, how joyous this plan was going to be, doing so it sets course and turns back around to a hub-zone of loot, rumors and the one place the pirate known only as “Flip” could likely be found, Nar Shaddaa.

Chapter 4: The imposter’s imposter

“Dread it, run from it, death arrives all the same, or rather, it simply has more intelligence than your organic brain can comprehend.” A sly, robotic, imperial accent matched with black paint and armouring met only with the laughter of an idiot about to start wallowing in his own blood, the masked fool laughs “You know, you would make a great actor, plus you’d be doing a better job than you are right now.” The masked idiot gets his head slammed into a wall of Nar shaddaa for this, the claw-like metal hand creating an ear-piercing scratching noise as the imperial assassin, M4-07, runs it’s hand down to Flip’s neck, “I’ll give you credit, fool, you’re braver than most targets who’ve had the pleasure of seeing my face, you lack their fear, but a sith agent without fear to feed on is a vicious beast to tangle with.” Flip just laughs at the sadistic droid “Wow, you really don’t get the message huh? I already told you where your big bro was heading, someplace called ‘the crater’ ominous I know, but hey, there are hundreds of craters in the galaxy, which one do you go to, let me, help you, so I can help myself keep living?” 07 let’s go of Flip’s head, letting him drop to the ground like a sack of hammers, only for the idiot to get back up on his feet and stretch as if he hadn’t just had his ass whooped for the 17th time this week. “Like I said, I don’t know where ‘the crater’ is but I do know a place that’d be easy to kill an organic for your brother, it’s this completely inhospitable area on Tatooine, not even moisture farmers can use it, plus it drives people insane, now I don’t know a huge amount of it’s backstory but if my luck is anything to go off, I reckon it has a base there, no place an organic can approach without going insane? Any droid would want to go there!” 07 looks at Flip before speaking again as it raises a blaster to Flip’s face “Your service to the empire will be rewarded painlessly” Though before the droid could even pull the trigger Flip rolls to the other side of the room before grabbing his dropped rifle and jumping out of the closed window and falling into the abyss below, all the way down yelling “At your service!” 07 backs away before dropping a thermal detonator in Flip’s hotel room, even if he did survive the fall, he didn’t have anywhere to sleep anymore…

Of course anybody who knows Flip, knows he can survive worse than a big fall, getting caught in a red speeder, driven by M4 of all droids before zooming off to the spaceport, M4 shook it’s head as Flip relayed the details to it, now it owed the fool two favours.

Chapter 5: “Hello old friend”

M4 stood in front of a burnt and decaying pile of logs in the vast and harsh desert night of Tatooine, so much had happened since M4’s first visit here and everything personal always caused it to end up here, except with Grillrilot, but that wasn’t an opportunity it would’ve got a second shot at. Simply staring at the wood as it’s cloak flew in the wind the droid noticed something it hadn’t noticed last time it was here, a single holoprojector that had somehow survived the bonfire, curiously M4 picks it up and wipes some ash off it before placing it down at it’s feet and pressing play on it. The projector boots into life as a man clad in red armour, with red hair and the worst shaving job in the galaxy, appeared, taking the droid back, the man simply smiles at looks at M4, speaking in a typical mandalorian accent, with a hint of balmorran. “If you’re finding this, it means this… disorder of mine has got the best of me and I was proven killable, if so, I commend the warrior who managed to kill me and rid the galaxy of the voice in my head, but chances also are you found this looking for some wisdom from a strong member of clan Stalos, who defeated the republic’s own mandalorian killer, twice and fought alongside some of the best warriors in the galaxy, well bit of some bad news, whatever you might know about my story might be a little lost in translation, because… Well a lot of the stories attributed to me are only half true, I never faced a single enemy down alone, there was always someone else by my side in a fight, whether that be aiding me through a commlink, on the field of battle, or just when I needed someone to talk too, whether it’s still around by the time this message is played back I don’t know… we sort of, got into a fight and well… we went our separate ways I suppose. So maybe I do have some wisdom after all, whether they are mando’ade or not, anyone who is willing to stand by you through everything the galaxy throws at you is a true vod, whether they consider themselves mandalorian or not, for me that person was a droid, funny I know, who’d have thought a mandalorian and a droid would make such a good team, the droid in question was called M4-05, heh… We started out hating each other, and I mean hated each other, all we both wanted to do was get off tatooine and go our separate ways then, but things obviously changed, M4 was more than a machine, more so than I think even it realised, it was a friend to so many people, sure it could be a bit cynical at times, M4 stuck around when nobody else did… and I let the voice in my head throw that away, but M4’s tough, built of some of the strongest stuff in the galaxy, always had a plan for everything, it’s got a plan to outlive the end of the universe itself I bet, dunno if it’ll stick with artix or move on to work with someone else, what matters is that it finds a place in the galaxy… where was I? Oh yeah, moral of the story and stuff… a brother is more than your fellow mando’ade or your blood, a brother is someone who believes and doesn’t give up, someone you can be transparent with, someone who sticks by your side just because it’s you. So, to whoever may be seeing this recording, do this mad mando a favour, just one, find M4 if you can, tell it, no, tell my brother I’m sorry, tell him that Robert ‘Anarch’ Artix-Stalos was wrong, that I wish things could’ve turned out better, got a kid on the way and everything as well, coulda used a babysitter every now and again…” The long and drawn out recording finally stops and M4 looks down at the recording, before removing it’s faceplating to look at the projector before picking it up and look at it with it’s two, basic optics before speaking back to the lifeless projector, in a sad and defeated tone “I wish I had a plan for this… I really do, but given your combat success, perhaps the best plan isn’t having one at all… and apology accepted, ‘brother’.” The droid places it’s plates back on before walking off further into the desert, the last remains of it’s first true friend in hand.

Chapter 6: The crater (dun dun duuun!)

M4-07 stood in a desolate, completely black area of Tatooine, amongst what appear to be the charred remains of a sand person camp, the only thing not charred in the area was a single cliff face, with no cracks or rocks to use to climb, only 07, no life, no back-up, yet impossible to ambush… Then at the top of the cliff stood a group of heavily armed republic soldiers as none other than M4-06 jettisoned down to meet 07 in the optics, as it yells in declaration “M4-07, you are found guilty of working as an agent of sith intelligence, surrender now and you will be treated fairly!” 07 just looks at the soldier droid before chuckling “M4-06 and sigma squad then? I don’t know what your game is but I doubt you’ll find your ultimate goal here, allow me to explain the purpose of our creation, we were built to anger the same droid, to lure it out of hiding and destroy it, to our respective factions we are expendable, I am here of my own initiative to prove otherwise, your being here benefits only me, not you and certainly not our target.” 06 stands proudly in defiance “If my purpose is to be expendable in the fight for freedom then so be it!” it’s imperial brethren only shakes it’s head in disapproval “A patriot to the end eh? Well I suppose I can sympathise to a degree, my programming grants me free thought in nearly every aspect, other than attempts to betray my empire.” 06, clearly tired with 07’s ego simply raises it’s rifle to the droid “Enough talk, either you come silently, or in pieces! And once we’re done with you, we’ll deal with 05 too!”

In response 07 raises it’s blaster firing at 06 with no hesitation, 06 responds by firing back, both droids absorbing and ricocheting the shots with their armouring, as the 2 scurry for cover as 06 yells into it’s comms “Commander, your assistance would be appreciated right about now!” 06 actually got a response, but not from the person it was expecting, as a cold, robotic voice speaks through the commlink to 06 “Not so fast, inferior. And don’t think about adjusting your aim, one move towards me and the blood of your organic masters is on your copied hands.” 06 continues to engage 07 as it speaks back through the comms as it briefly looks up to spot a dot of red and black atop the cliff where sigma squad has seemingly disappeared. “So the traitor shows themself, you will surrender yourself to republic custody for trial in front of the galactic senate and leave that of sigma squad alone.” The patriot droid’s demands are met with a sinister and annoyed tone “I don’t know if you’ve ever been programmed to deal with a hostage situation before, so allow me to give you some tips, do not demand the exact opposite of what the hostage-taker wants.” for a second a blaster shot echos from the cliff before a human body is thrown off and hits the ground with an unbearable cracking sound. “For every wrong move you make, is another republic death on your hands, can your limited mind comprehend that?” Atop the cliff M4 turns it’s head to the entire unconscious sigma squad as it waves the commander’s helmet over them and watches the 2 droids below fight each other before speaking into the helmet “Now, my demands are simple, destroy M4-07, then yourself.” As yet more bolts bounce off 06’s armour it simply gives a simple response “No can do, my duty is to serve the republic, not you!” M4 simply sighs back in response, before something atop the cliff goes boom and M4 descends down to the ground, causing the two copies to stop shooting at each and look at it before it simply states “Wrong answer. Now I’m not usually one for teaching those I’m about to kill a lesson, this place ‘the crater’ that’s not it’s real name, that’s just what the only jedi who ever came here called it. The real name of this place is ‘daba'r’ which is mandalorian for ‘The beginning’ and in my case that’s what organics would call, symbolic.” 07 simply points it’s blaster at M4 and begins firing “Enough talking, shut up and die! For the empire!” and in suit 06 yells in response “For the republic!” M4 simply draws it’s blasters and opens fire on the two, bolts ping back and forth as the 3 all try to get a killing shot on each other. The battle raged on into the cold night, the once more cold desert allowing all 3 machines to operate at their respective peaks. With the fight going nowhere, M4 jettisons itself at 06 to no avail as 06 dodges and M4’s stomach crashes into a charred rock before it gets grabbed by 06, which repeatedly strikes the point hit by the rock before turning M4 around to use as a shield against an oncoming 07, piercing M4’s armour with a metal screech painful enough to deafen even the poorest functioning hearing. In this state of immobility 07 begins to strike M4’s face plating repeatedly, the unified wish of the two copies to destroy their original outweighing their dogma against each other. The strikes against M4 so continuous and powerful the metal begins to bind inwards until the sound of shattering glass could be heard, one of it’s primary optics had been broken, unable to even move the two opposites throw the broken droid to the side as they begin punching each other out.

Chapter 7: Can’t beat a classic

The shattered, cracked and flickering optics of M4 fade in and out as the sound of white noise clouds the sound of the copied droids slamming their metal fists into each other, this wasn’t meant to happen, how did this happen? All M4 could do was search it’s memory, what had it miss? Past Nat’s party, past fighting the progenitor, past working for Azutek, killing Stalos, killing Grillrilot, further than even the first time on Tatooine… Soon M4 only reached nothing but darkness, except for one sentence, repeating over and over, in a voice even M4 didn’t recognize “Just because you can’t see doesn’t mean he’s not smiling, so you can keep your fake friends because I’ve got a better one!” ...how old was this memory that not even M4 could remember it? But it didn’t matter, the voice brought the old droid a feeling of warmness, not like the kind of heat on tatooine, a feeling of pride, even now M4 felt no fear, but it wasn’t a feeling of malice, something much better than that, something that caused the droid to roll over and pick it’s beaten body back up. Seeing this 06 and 07 freeze in place, how was M4 still able to stand on it’s 2 feet with only one primary optic working? To this question, M4 only gave one answer, with a tone of pure determination “I am made of stronger stuff than what’s on the surface.” Only with one response, the 2 droids began to run at M4, both of them trying to dent the other on the way to the stationary droid, 07 being the more agile of the 2 made it first, unprepared for what M4 was planning, using what power the droid had in it’s rockets it performs a roundhouse kick to 07’s face with enough force to tear off it’s face plating, and before the imperial copy could even retaliate M4 dug it’s hand into 07’s exposed face before tearing out the copy’s wiring, letting the now powerless assassin drop to the floor before turning it’s attention to the soldier. 06, having just witnessed the mechanical carnage, didn’t know what to do, it had no protocols to use for this scenario, it knew M4 could be brutal, but not to that extent, it had practically given up as M4 closed in on it picking up one of it’s blasters on the way, as 06 tried to analyse a new strategy it’s legs were shot out from beneath it as M4 grabs it by the neck, before speaking in the tone of anger “You are everything I ran away from, living proof your precious republic will burn in it’s own incompetence, you were never, nor will you ever be my equal or better. So allow me to properly introduce myself: I am M4-05, and I implore your masters to throw their entire army at me, waste the blood of their dogs, let them howl in pain for the sake of someone else’s ego, I will not provoke the republic more than they will provoke me so next time your masters consider trying to kill me, make sure they remember Grillrilot, and remember how he ended up because I am capable of so much worse!” with it’s speech done M4 begins to slam 06 into the same rock it had been thrown into earlier, repeatedly, until the last semblance of functioning tech had faded from it’s enemy, dropping it to the ground. Before leaving M4 places two oddly shaped detonators next to the robo-corpses of it’s copies before walking off just over a mile away, only pressing a button on it’s belt, an explosion large enough to level two buildings goes off in ‘the crater’ creating an actual crater now only muttering something with a joking tone as it limps off back to it’s ship “Programming is overrated anyways.” Epilogue: My turn Stumbling back onto the Tenacity, M4 puts it’s damaged body back on the bridge, pressing a few buttons to try and take-off, to nothing, now fuel or power, M4 chuckles at this “Of course… Things really are full circle… Oh well, at least I have options this time around…” M4 throws it’s head back as it powers down and a red and friend-sized astromech bursts into life as it exits the cargo hold, speaking in the native language of binary. “M4-05 = back to the beginning. M4 = searching contents… Contact = found.” Authors note

This, despite however bad it may be, was a lot of fun to write, sort of revisiting everything I’ve rped with M4. Now it’s no secret of mine that a couple of years ago I wasn’t in a good spot mentally, and since then I’ve got out of that state and been thanking people for listening to my bullshit ever since, and swtor rp has definetly helped me deal with the shit I was dealing with during all that. I’ve been rping on swtor for over a year now and despite all the arguments and drama, I’ve enjoyed myself at the end of the day, it’s been an escape and a way to socialise with new people who aren’t the sods I go to school with, so to the jedi, sith, mercenaries, the pubs, the imps, the overdramatic adults who act more like children than the actual 16-year-old, the mechanics, gamblers, the Mandalorians, criminals but certainly not to the ‘erp exposure’ guy, thank you. Thank you for making this past year so much better than it had any right to be.

[atlanticcanada]

Parole board denies release of American who killed New Brunswick cop in 1987

An American who has spent nearly 35 years in prison for the murder of a New Brunswick police officer was denied full parole on Wednesday.

Anthony Romeo, 58, is serving a life sentence in a New Brunswick prison for the shooting of highway patrol Const. Emmanuel Aucoin during a traffic stop in March 1987, southwest of Fredericton. Romeo became eligible for full parole in 2012, but the Parole Board of Canada said at the time he posed a risk to the public.

During a parole hearing Wednesday, the board was told that if released, Romeo would be deported to his native United States, where he would be a free man and not subject to parole or other kinds of supervision.

A parole officer told the hearing that while Romeo has been taking his medication for paranoid schizophrenia and making use of other treatment and support programs, the Correctional Service of Canada recommended against his release.

During his trial in 1988, a psychiatrist testified that Romeo thought he was being followed by a monster who brutally killed young men, adding that the killer thought the 31-year-old constable was that monster.

The March 1987 traffic stop was the third time Romeo had been stopped by police for speeding in his sports car in Quebec and New Brunswick. He had fled the United States, where he was wanted for murder in New York state.

On Wednesday, Romeo told the board he was abusing alcohol and drugs at the time of Aucoin's murder. "I was very drunk and high at the time. I think that led to mental health issues."

Because of COVID-19 restrictions, the hearing was held virtually by video link. Romeo could be seen calmly sitting at a table in a room at Dorchester Penitentiary in New Brunswick.

"I'm 58 years old now. A lot has changed in my life. I've been in prison for 35 years," he said.

Romeo told the board he has the support of his doctor and a number of relatives, including his parents who are in their 80s. He said he planned to use that support network and that he had no intention of ever touching alcohol or drugs again.

Romeo had also been an avid gun collector, using the weapons for hunting and target shooting, but he said he would not own another gun, even for protection.

He said he was sorry for his actions and believed that prison had allowed him to turn his life around. "I'm on medication, I'm off drugs and I don't have a violent problem or anger problem anymore."

Two members of the parole board asked questions about how they could be assured Romeo would take his medications and stay off drugs and alcohol without having a parole officer or other structured supervision in the U.S.

Given a chance to speak at the end of the hearing, Romeo apologized to the Aucoin family, and he expressed his concern that he would be denied parole because there was no arrangement for parole to be offered upon his potential return to the United States.

"I feel that it is unfair where being an American in Canada and with the accountability back home and not being on parole, I wish there was a way I could be on parole in New York because we wouldn't have this problem," he said. "Maybe if the board denies my parole, my case team could find a way to put me on parole in New York and maybe a transfer to a prison in New York."

After a short deliberation, the board denied parole and said it felt Romeo would still pose an undue risk to society if released.

This report by The Canadian Press was first published Feb. 2, 2022.

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/gR0FAMwf5