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ego13 · 2 months ago

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AFTER MIDNIGHT part. 1 – y.jm

PAIR ࿐ fem! reader x yu jimin. GENRE ࿐ pure angst/smut, detective, criminalistic. WARNINGS ࿐ murders, violence, semi-detailed description of corpses, references to child abuse/harassment, drug references, cheating, redflag!jimin, deception, complicated relationships, eventual smut, cunnilingus, kissing, impact play, misleading, praise kink, pet names (sweetheart , baby). SYNOPSIS ࿐ a series of suspicious murders have swept through a small town, raising it to its ears, which forces you to take up the case, not even suspecting that one of your "old" friends will return from the shadows. WORD COUNT 11,2k ࿐ PLAYLIST After Midnight ࿐

Jimin was holding her half of the headphones delicately, as if it were a secret she didn’t want the nobody to steal. The other half nestled in your ear, you leaned her head just slightly closer, lying it on her shoulder. The soft chords of "Sleepwalking" by Bring Me The Horizon drifted between you both, carried by the tiny MP3 player tucked in her hoodie pocket.

“We’ll always be together, right?” she asked, her voice quieter than the song, almost swallowed by the wind.

You turned to look at her. Her eyes were interested and serious, her dark hair tangled slightly from the breeze. There was something in her expression — an earnestness that made the moment feel like it was being carved into the wood beneath you.

“Always,” you said without hesitation, reaching out to pinky swear.

Jimin smiled then — bright, unguarded, and free. Your pinkies linked like the final note of a perfect song, sealed by laughter and that last chorus echoing in their ears.

"Why are you even asking me this? Is there something I don't know?" You asked with a ringing interest in your voice, clearly surprised by such a sudden interest in this kind of question.

"No... you know more about me than I do, even if I wanted to hide something from you, you would understand in the first moments," Jimin chuckled, clearly changing the subject, trying to avoid a direct answer to the question.

"You're right, so don't even think about hiding anything from me! I'll find out anyway," you giggled, turning your gaze into the distance, connecting the bright stars into small constellations in the clear sky with your gaze.

Noticing this, Yu smiled, she didn’t look at the stars, she didn’t need to, the brightest and most beautiful star in her life was now sitting in front of her, that's why her hand slowly crept up to yours, carefully intertwining your fingers together.

"Just... just suddenly, just suddenly, if something happens to me, will you promise to always remember me?"

The question made you look back at her, looking at her with eyes full of uncertainty. Why was she asking such strange things? The question was stuck in your head and you couldn't find the right words to answer, just nodding silently, taking a deep breath.

Seeing this, her hand tightened its grip on yours, smiling weakly as she brought it to her lips, leaving a few kisses on each of your knuckles as the last chords of the song slowly faded away.

The sound of wind faded. The song cut out.

Your eyes opened.

The room was dark except for the blinking light on her phone vibrating against the nightstand. Your head throbbed slightly — a dull reminder of falling asleep without eating. You blinked once before reaching the phone.

"Yunbin, Investigative Committee."

You answered, voice rough. “Yeah?”

“You’re awake! Thank god.” Yunbin’s tone was clipped. “Check your email. Right fucking now. It’s urgent.”

You sat up, rubbing the heel of her hand into her eye. “Can’t it wait until morning I have a fucking meeting with of Mr. Park tomorrow, if I don't get enough sleep I'll definitely spit in his face.

“No, this can't wait,” he said. “It’s him. We got new evidence. Check your inbox. The email with the archive is there. Password is the usual. Please don't delay. Let me know the second you open it.”

He hung up before you could say anything else.

You sighed, shoved the blanket aside, and dragged her laptop from under the bed. Fingers trembled slightly as you typed in her password — more from the chill than fear, or so you told yourself.

The email was already waiting. No subject. No text. Just an attachment named "SEASIDE_CASE_ARCHIVE.zip"

You clicked it. Entered the password. The archive opened.

There were four folders. Each named after a date. Each containing photos.

You clicked the first one.

The screen filled with images of a body — a young girl, no older than twenty, laid out in the sand. Her stomach was sliced open in a clean, straight line, the flesh parted but blood minimal, as if the cut had been made with professional precision. Her face was eerily calm. In her hands, arranged gently, was a small bouquet of white lilac.

You clicked through the other folders. The pattern repeated.

Four girls. All killed in the same way. All on the same spit of land by the sea — but each found in a slightly different spot. Their torsos opened. Their hands clutching lilac. There was no chaos in the scenes. No mess. Just death, arranged with cold care.

Your stomach turned.

The medical team had nicknamed the killer “The Reaper.” Well... you could see why.

There was nothing passionate or messy about the murders. Just clinical brutality. It didn’t look like rage. It looked like a statement. What was planned, damn, this bastard definitely has professional hands, you were willing to bet that the guys from the forensics team who have done more autopsies in their careers than you can imagine could do such a precise abdominal dissection.

You closed the last photo and sat still in the silence, the sound of the laptop’s fan the only thing filling the room.

Your phone buzzed again. A new message from Yunbin.

Yunbin:

Do any of the girls look familiar to you?

You:

No... I’ve never seen any of them before.

Yunbin:

Are you sure?

You:

One hundred percent. Why?

Yunbin:

All four girls were around your age. 15 to 18. No known family connections. Different backgrounds, no ties to each other on paper. But here’s where it gets strange.

You:

Go on.

Yunbin:

Three of them had registered visits to the same mental health clinic in Seoul. Same month. Same doctor. No details on the sessions — records sealed.

You:

What about the fourth?

Yunbin:

No clinic record... but get this — she was caught shoplifting from a pharmacy six months ago! Security footage shows her muttering to herself and holding a bouquet of lilac.

You:

White lilac? Same lilac?

Yunbin:

Exactly.

You:

So... he targets vulnerable girls?

Yunbin:

Looks that way. Victims showed signs of recent emotional stress — anxiety, insomnia, some hinted at suicidal ideation in personal journals or police interviews.

You:

How the hell does he pick them?

Yunbin:

That’s the question. There’s no digital link. No chatrooms, no shared devices, no obvious connection between them.

You:

And no one saw him?

Yunbin:

No witnesses. He moves fast. The bodies were all found within 24 hours of death. No defensive wounds either. It’s like they didn’t fight.

You:

Or couldn’t?

Yunbin:

Exactly! Autopsies show they were sedated before the incision. Carefully. Nothing messy.

You:

Listen... I need everything you have on that clinic.

Yunbin:

Already on it. I’ll send you the internal list of patients from the month they visited. Might be something there. Including staff rosters. Maybe someone slipped.

You:

Thanks. I’ll dig in.

Yunbin:

One more thing.

You:

Yeah?

Yunbin:

I was told that she, a woman, called the local clinic. She made a call to emergency services a week before the first victim.

You:

What did she say?

Yunbin:

The transcript’s short. She said: “He’s coming. He already took her. I saw it in her eyes.” Then hung up. The number is unavailable, geolocation cannot be calculated, apparently the phone is for one-time use.

You:

The owner of the phone could not be identified either?

Yunbin:

That’s what I'm trying to find out.

You:

Fine, going to sleep now, because I'm about to switch off. I'll meet you at the the office.

You set the phone face down on the desk and leaned back in the headboard. The screen still glowed faintly, casting a cold light across the room. Eyes burned from staring too long. The images from the archive were still there in the back of your mind.

The victims have no connection? This will need to be checked, because if this is really the case, how then do we even look for the maniac? How do we predict the next victim?

You closed the laptop. Stood up, your knees ached slightly from sitting too long. You pulled the curtains tighter and crawled back into bed without changing. The sheets were still warm. She lay flat on her back, eyes open in the dark.

Sleep came slowly, despite the mess that's going on in your head.

The alarm buzzed at 7:15. You slapped it off without even opening your eyes.

Body felt like it had been hit by a truck. You lay there for another minute, then rolled out of bed and dragged yourself to the bathroom.

You stared at herself in the mirror. Pale. Hair is a fucking mess. You looked like someone who hadn’t slept properly in days, and that... wasn’t far from the truth.

In the kitchen, you made yourself some black coffee and didn’t bother with breakfast. Just stood at the counter, sipping it in silence. Thoughts about what happened didn't leave your head. And that dream with Jimin, what was that all about?

You moved on autopilot — pulled on dark slacks, a white blouse, blazer, boots. Tied your hair back loosely. Slid the badge into the pocket, then her ID, then her USB drive.

Laptop in the bag. Phone charged. Everything is strictly according to the template by which you lived every fucking day.

You checked the lock on the door twice before leaving.

The hallway outside your apartment was quiet. Old floorboards creaked under your steps. You took the stairs instead of the elevator.

The city was waking up when she hit the street. Traffic already building. People on their phones, rushing to work, completely unaware that somewhere by the sea, four girls had died without a sound.

By the time you reached the corner, the noise and crowds were already too much. The city felt louder than usual. Head was still foggy. You made your way to the small underground garage behind the building and unlocked your jeep.

It was old, beat-up, but reliable. No tech distractions, just a manual engine and the low hum of the radio you never tuned.

You pulled out onto the main road, one hand on the wheel, the other gripping her coffee cup. And for a moment you thought about the dream again. The bridge. The music. Jimin’s face.

It hadn’t come out of nowhere.

She had been your best friend for years. From first grade to senior year, they were always together — school projects, sleepovers, summer breaks. You shared everything.

Then came the end of high school. Graduation. College applications. And suddenly, Jimin was just… gone.

No goodbye. No call. Not even a text.

Her number stopped working. Socials were wiped. Mutual friends knew nothing. A couple rumors floated around — that her family moved out of Seoul, maybe Busan or Incheon — but nothing solid.

Eventually, people stopped asking.

But the you hadn’t. You still remembered messaging Yu's old email once, months later, just to try. No response.

That bridge from the dream — it was real. It was the place they went when things were hard. When school got rough. When Jimin’s mom was drinking again. When they you both didn't wanted to go home.

And now, for some reason, her face was blurred. Vivid. Sharp. Like she’d never existed.

You shook your head and blinked at the red light. The GPS buzzed even though you wasn’t using it. Just out of habit.

You turned down the quieter side street that led toward the committee offices — a large gray building tucked between an old bank and a private security firm. You parked in the lot, engine off, and sat for a second with the keys in your hand.

Jimin had vanished.

No note. No warning.

Just like that.

You rubbed her eyes once more, then grabbed your bag and stepped out into the morning air.

The curtains did nothing to block out the morning light.

Jimin squinted, groaned, and rolled over — but instead of a pillow, her face pressed into a scratchy throw blanket that smelled like gin and the couch she’d passed out on again. Her head pounded. Her mouth was dry.

Footsteps padded softly across the marble floor.

"Jimin," a voice said gently, like someone trying not to start a fight before breakfast. "You need to get up."

She didn’t move at first. Just let out a grunt and buried her face deeper into the cushion.

"Jimin." The voice came again, firmer now. "Come on. I asked you not to drink last night."

She opened one eye and turned her head.

There she was — her wife, Chanyeol. Dressed like always in something understated but expensive, with a fresh blowout and no visible sign of age despite being ten years older. Perfect. Fucking rich.

Jimin sat up slowly, her spine aching from the awkward position she’d slept in. She tugged her shirt down, even though it was wrinkled and smelled like cigarettes.

"I didn’t plan on drinking," she muttered, voice hoarse.

Chanyeol walked over and handed her a glass of water. "No one ever does."

Yu drank it in one go. Her throat burned.

"You need to pull yourself together," her wife said, crouching in front of her, her tone still measured. "She’s on the way."

Jimin blinked. "Who?"

"My daughter," the woman said. "I told you yesterday. She’s coming for dinner."

Yu exhaled. "Right."

"She hasn’t seen you in weeks. Please, at least try to be presentable. Don’t make this awkward, for me especially."

Jimin pushed herself up and staggered slightly. Chanyeol caught her elbow, steadying her for a second before letting go.

"I’ll go to shower," Yu said. "Give me fifteen minutes."

She nodded, then turned to leave, heels clicking softly on the floor. At the doorway she paused.

"And Jimin," she added without looking back, "if you’re serious about that novel, maybe open the damn laptop today."

Then she was gone.

Yu stood in silence for a moment, staring at the empty glass in her hand. The penthouse around her looked like something out of a magazine — all glass, leather, and minimalism. Nothing in it felt like hers.

She made her way to the bathroom, turning on the water.

Jimin stood under the shower, arms against the tile, water beating down on the back of her neck. She didn’t move. Just let it run down her body in unsuccessful attempts to sober up.

The heat should’ve helped — burned away the hangover, the taste of stale alcohol, the fog in her head — but it didn’t. It never did. Her thoughts kept circling the same drain they always did.

The book.

She had the idea three years ago. A crime novel about a detective chasing a killer who left flowers in the hands of his victims. She wrote the first chapter in a single night, drunk off cheap wine and inspiration. It wasn’t perfect, but it had something.

Then came the offers. A stipend. A sponsor. A publisher who’d "keep an eye" on her progress.

And then came her.

Her wife.

They met at a fundraiser she wasn’t supposed to be at, dressed in someone else’s suit, pretending to belong. But the woman had noticed her — really noticed her — and something about being seen by someone with power and money had hooked Jimin.

It didn’t take long. The penthouse came next. The promises. Then the wedding.

And then the slow drift.

Now the book sat untouched on her desktop — a document opened more times than she could count, each time filled with more a fucking guilt than words.

And every time she thought about writing again, she heard his voice.

Chanyeol’s father. The chairman. The old bastard who’d never said her name once but never stopped talking about her.

"She’s a loser with a shitty book and a dream with a hole in her pocket."

"She’s using you to play artist."

"She wants the money, not the marriage."

Every time he visited, he’d shake his head like she was a stray dog the family hadn’t managed to kick out yet. And the worst part?

He wasn’t completely wrong.

Jimin had needed the money. She’d needed a place to stay. She’d needed someone to say "just write and don’t worry about rent."

She never lied about that. But somewhere along the way, she forgot how to write at all.

The water started to run cold. She didn’t flinch.

Her palms were wrinkled. Her eyes burned. The hum of the ventilation fan filled the silence.

If she didn’t pull herself together, the old man would be right — again.

And worse, the girl showing up for dinner would see it too.

Yu shut off the water and stood in the silence for a few seconds longer.

Then she reached for the towel.

She rubbed the towel over her head, slow and distracted. The bathroom mirror was fogged up, but she didn’t bother wiping it down. She was still standing there, bare feet on cold tile, when her phone started buzzing from the counter.

"HANA - TV EDITORIAL OFFICE"

She stared at the name for a second, then picked it up and answered with a low, dry, "Yeah?"

"You sound like shit," Hana said without missing a beat.

"I feel worse."

"Still drinking yourself sideways?"

"Got a better hobby in mind?"

There was a pause on the line. Yu leaned on the sink and waited, eyes on the fogged-up glass.

"I’ve got something," Hana finally said. Her tone dropped into that serious register she used when she actually had news. "Real shit. Not clickbait."

"Go on."

"You know Mokpo?"

Jimin blinked. "Yeah. Port city. South coast."

"Right. So... a guy I know down there — small-time fixer, drinks with cops — he just told me there’s movement on a hush-hush case. Local police are losing their minds trying to keep it under wraps. No official statements, but he swears there’s a serial involved. Four dead girls, all in different parts of the city."

Yu straightened a little. "Confirmed?"

"Unofficially, yeah. But the details…" Hana hesitated, then said, "They’re all staged. Same exact pattern. Surgical stuff. Like out of a damn screenplay."

Jimin didn’t speak for a moment.

"You’re not calling just to tell me bedtime stories."

"Nope." Hana sounded like she was grinning now. "I’m saying this is your shot. Material. Real, dark stuff. You wanna finish your silly book? Go look death in the face again. You used to be good at that. Before all this…"

She trailed off, but Jimin caught the tone.

"Before I sold out," she finished flatly.

"I didn’t say that."

"You didn’t have to."

Another pause. Then Hana softened. "Look. We both need a piece of cake. I need a segment for the docuseries we’re pitching. You need to write something that’s not an apology email to your agent. Let’s both stop drowning in this shit."

Jimin closed her eyes.

She could already feel the pull of it — the adrenaline, the story, the clarity she hadn’t had in years. She wasn’t dumb, she knew why murder called to her more than love ever did. There was no room for lies in a post-mortem.

"Where do I start?" she asked quietly.

"I’ll text you the fixer’s number. Name’s Minseok. He owes me. If you head down there, he’ll grease the doors."

Yu nodded slowly, towel hanging in one hand.

"And Jimin," Hana added, voice low now, "don’t fuck this up."

Call ended.

Jimin stood for a second, still dripping slightly, staring at her reflection through the steam. The fog was starting to clear.

She stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, hair still damp and clinging to her neck. She moved quietly down the hall, the scent of coffee already drifting toward her.

Her wife was in the kitchen, setting the table with calm precision — warm bread rolls in a basket, little glass dishes with fruit and yogurt.

Yu cleared her throat.

"You clean up fast," she said without looking up.

"Didn’t have time to fall apart today."

The woman gave a soft snort — not quite amusement, not quite approval.

Jimin padded across the marble floor, pulling the towel tighter as she sat down. She’d usually throw on sweatpants or something loose, but there was no time, not with the idea burning in the back of her head.

"I need a favor," she said, cutting right into it.

Her wife finally looked at her. "What kind?"

"Money."

A pause.

"How much?"

"Enough to get to Mokpo. Couple nights in a motel. Bus ticket. Some gear. Call it two million won, give or take."

Her wife blinked. "Mokpo?"

"Yeah. I wanna clear my head. Change the scenery. That’s all."

Yu avoided her eyes and reached for the coffee, pouring herself a cup like it would distract from the lie.

"Thought you didn’t have any friends there."

"I don’t," Jimin said quickly. "That’s the point. No people, no distractions."

Before she could reply, heavy footsteps echoed from the stairs.

And then came him.

Mr. Nam.

Old money in a linen shirt, still somehow sharp at nearly seventy, with perfect posture and a permanent sneer. He didn’t even glance at Jimin as he walked in, just went straight for the fridge and poured himself a glass of water.

"Morning, Dad," her wife said politely.

"Hm," he grunted. He turned, saw Jimin, and finally acknowledged her with a dry look.

"Still drunk?" he asked.

"Morning to you too," she muttered.

He sat at the head of the table and took a sip of water, eyes flicking between the two women. "What are we talking about now? More ‘creative escapes’?"

Jimin exhaled, annoyed. "I said I wanted to go to Mokpo. That’s it."

"For what?" He asked, leaning forward. “A yoga retreat? One of those ocean-view writing camps?"

"She wants to clear her head," Chanyeol said carefully.

The old man chuckled. "Of course she does."

He turned his full attention to Jimin now, his smile thin.

"You know, I spent forty years building a company that pays people with actual skills. You’ve spent what — three years trying to write a book you won’t finish and draining my daughter’s account in the meantime?"

"Dad—" she started.

"No, it’s fine," Jimin said coldly, setting her cup down. "He’s not wrong."

She looked him in the eye, dead calm. "But I’m still going."

The man snorted again. "You’re gonna run to the coast, drink in some moldy motel room, and call it ‘research’? You’re not an artist. You’re a freeloader in designer socks."

Jimin didn’t flinch. She’d heard worse.

But her jaw tightened. "I’ll finish it. One way or another."

"Oh?" The man smirked. "Then stop begging for handouts. Go work."

Her wife stood suddenly, hands on the table. "That’s enough."

The old man shrugged, grabbed his coffee, and walked off like he hadn’t just spit on her entire life.

Jimin sat in silence. Her throat was tight, but she didn’t let it show.

After a few moments, her wife sat back down, quieter now.

"You really going to write this time?" she asked softly.

She looked up, her voice low.

"I’m not asking again."

She was quiet the whole time she packed. A cheap duffel bag, some old notebooks, charger, camera she barely used anymore, hoodie, jeans.

Chanyeol leaned on the bedroom doorframe, arms crossed.

"You're really going alone?" she asked, her voice low.

"Yeah."

"You’re not meeting anyone down there?"

She zipped the bag slowly. "No."

There was a pause. Then she asked, more gently, "Do you want me to book the hotel for you?"

Jimin shook her head. "I'll figure it out."

"I just— You don't really do well on your own, baby."

That stung more than she let on. She slung the bag over her shoulder and turned to face her.

"I need to try."

Chanyeol looked like she wanted to say something else — maybe ask her to stay, maybe tell her she was full of shit. But instead, she nodded once and stepped aside.

"Call me when you get there."

"Okay."

Downstairs, the old man was sitting on the patio with his paper and tea, pretending not to notice her walking out the door. She didn’t give him the satisfaction of a goodbye. Didn't deserve it.

The cab ride to Seoul Station was short, quiet. She stared out the window the whole time, sunglasses on even though the sky was gray. Her phone buzzed in her pocket — a message from Hana.

Hana:

Minseok’s expecting you. Meet him by the docks after 7pm. You still going?

Jimin:

Yeah.

She tucked the phone away and leaned back. Her head still ached from last night’s wine.

The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, steady and cold. You stood near your desk, arms crossed, sipping coffee that had long gone lukewarm. Office was silent that was broken only by the soft sounds of Yunbin peeling off bits of tape and slapping photographs against the glass wall.

One by one, the victims appeared — grainy photos, close-ups of lifeless eyes, slashed skin, and lilacs.

"You sure you want these out in the open?" Yunbin asked without turning, "it's not the most pleasant sight, you know."

"Leave them," you said. "I want to see them when I walk in every morning, besides, i've seen worse."

He paused, glanced at her over his shoulder. "You're not sleeping, are you?"

You didn’t answer. Just stared at the newest photo he’d placed — a girl no older than seventeen, her body half-buried in wet sand, arms crossed neatly over her chest, fingers curled around the wilted lilac.

"Medical report says the cuts were done post-mortem," Yunbin said. "Stomach opened with something precise. Scalpel, most likely, but it's not certain, Yunho from the medical sector is still conducting an examination, the results will be out within a day."

You set your coffee down. "No defensive wounds?"

"None."

"So they were drugged?"

"Or just caught off guard. No signs of sexual assault. No robbery. No struggle."

You nodded, slowly processing.

"Victims don’t know each other. No online connections, no overlapping phone activity, no shared friends."

"Then how the hell is he choosing them?" you asked.

Yunbin shrugged. "Only common point is location. All dumped on that same stretch of coast, but spaced out by kilometers. Spit’s nearly eight kilometers long."

You walked over to the wall, looked at the photos again. "He wants them found."

"Obviously. Poses them like a fucking piece of art."

You tapped her nail against the glass. "And the lilacs?"

"White lilac means youthful innocence. In the old books, anyway."

"Jesus Christ," you muttered. "Fucking poet."

They stood in silence for a beat. Then he said, "You really don’t recognize any of them?"

You shook her head. "No. They’re all strangers."

He peeled the last photo from the file and smoothed it against the glass. The youngest. Maybe fifteen.

"Then maybe that’s the point," he said quietly. "They’re strangers to everyone. Nobody who’ll raise a fuss too soon. Easy to lose."

You stared at the girl’s face. Pale, half-lit by the camera flash.

"I want every missing persons report filed in that region for the past six months," you said. "Even ones that weren’t taken seriously."

"On it."

"And Yunbin," you turned toward him.

He paused at the door.

"Keep this in-house. No leaks. No press, I don't want some bastards from TV getting under our feet."

He gave you a small nod.

"Got it."

The door closed behind him, and you remained standing there, leaning against the edge of the table, examining each victim with a long-honed master's gaze.

The victims were not related.

But is it true?

Something made you reach for the file on one of the victims, opening the first page as if trying to find a catch in what was written.

"The victim's marital status... The father is an alcoholic, received a two-year sentence for robbery and fighting..."

It seemed that you had found absolutely nothing important in these lines, so you took the file of the last victim, but this time, opening it, your gaze instantly found the right line.

"The victim's marital status... Mother is an alcoholic, bad relationship with father after which he left the family, strained relationship with stepfather."

Fathers.

Perhaps there is a clue here.

And it was at that moment that you felt something click in your head. Reviewing the entire dossier for what seemed like the hundredth time, you began to understand something you had missed earlier.

All the victims had terrible relationships with their fathers.

How could you possibly miss this?

But that didn't matter now.

Taking a pen from the table, opening the cap with your teeth, you quickly wrote down the address of the last victim on a small piece of paper.

Yeosu, a city three hours' drive from Mokpo.

The hand grabbed the car keys lying nearby, as if a bullet flew out of the office. It seemed that you finally began to catch this invisible thread, and you had no right to lose it.

The rented Hyundai coughed as it climbed the hill toward the Investigative Committee building — a dull gray block of concrete with tinted glass and a security booth out front.

Jimin had one arm resting on the window frame, the wind tugging at her hair. She spotted Yunbin the second he stepped out — button-down shirt half untucked, lanyard around his neck, phone in hand.

She smirked and quickly pulled over near the curb.

"Yunbin!" she called out, snapping her fingers like she’d just remembered something. "Hey!"

He stopped, squinted toward the car, then took a step closer. His expression shifted from confusion to vague recognition.

"Jimin?" he asked.

"In the flesh. Hana’s friend. Fucking writer, remember?"

Yunbin looked at his watch, then at the sidewalk. "Right. She mentioned you might be in town with Minseok."

She leaned on the steering wheel. "Funny thing, I was just headed to the same coffee shop you’re probably walking to. Want a ride? I swear the air conditioning works better in here than it looks."

He gave the car a long, skeptical look, then shrugged. "Sure, I guess, I’ve walked enough today."

Yu grinned and unlocked the passenger door. "Hop in. First coffee’s on me."

As he climbed in, buckling up with one hand and glancing around the dashboard like he was checking for bugs, Jimin mentally took stock, easygoing, maybe a little overworked, but not the suspicious type. Getting him on her side would be no problem.

"Appreciate it," he said, settling in. "Didn’t expect to run into anyone I knew around here."

"I didn’t expect to end up here, either," she replied. "Small world, right?"

He chuckled lightly. "Or maybe Hana set us up."

"Wouldn’t put it past her."

They drove in silence for a few blocks. Jimin kept it casual, one hand on the wheel, eyes on the road, but her mind was already ten moves ahead — rehearsing how she’d ask about the case without sounding too obvious, wondering how close she could get to the real story without scaring him off.

"So," she said casually, "how bad is it in there? Everyone's walking around like there’s a bomb under their desks."

Yunbin didn’t look at her, just stared out the window. "Worse than that."

Bingo. Fucking bingo.

It seems that everything will be much easier than she thought.

The coffee shop was only a few blocks away, a corner place with dusty windows and a faded sign that read "24/7 Coffee." Jimin parked a little crooked, tossed the keys onto the dashboard, and followed Yunbin inside.

They grabbed a small table near the window. he ordered black coffee. Jimin asked for an iced americano, even though she hated the aftertaste.

"So," she said, stirring the straw like she cared, "what’s really going on out here? Hana made it sound like some true crime goldmine."

Yunbin leaned back in his chair and exhaled slowly. "Yeah. You could say that."

Yu kept her expression neutral, sipping through the straw. She didn’t want to push too hard. Let him talk.

"There’s been four bodies so far," he said. "All dumped on the same stretch of coast. Different spots, but the same pattern."

She nodded slowly. "The girls, right? I read something vague on some forum. Thought it was a hoax."

"It’s real," Yunbin said, his voice a little lower now. "Stomach cut open, organs left intact. No signs of struggle. Holding white lilac in their hands. No fingerprints. No suspects."

"And you?"

"I'm just the assistant, you know," he shrugged. "The real one doing the legwork is the lead investigator. She’s been glued to the case since the first body was found, I've been her assistant for two years now, I assure you, she's a pro at what she does."

Jimin raised an eyebrow. "She?"

"Yeah. Young investigator, moved down here six months ago from Seoul. Total hard-ass. Doesn’t sleep, doesn’t smile. Her name is—"

He didn’t finish. Yu's hand slipped on the condensation of her plastic cup and knocked it sideways, spilling coffee across the table.

"Shit," she muttered, fumbling for napkins.

He sat back, startled. "Hey, you good?"

She waved it off. "Yeah. Just... the cup slipped. What were you saying?"

"Her name. You probably don’t know her. She’s not exactly the social type."

"Try me."

He gave her a look. "Y/N."

Jimin froze mid-wipe. Her stomach twisted in a way she hadn’t felt in years. She forced a short laugh.

"No shit."

Yunbin nodded, sipping his drink. "You know her?"

She leaned back, staring past him, eyes unfocused. "We went to school together. Long time ago. Haven’t seen her in..." She trailed off.

"Small world, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess," she said, swallowing hard. "Fucking small."

She tried to act normal, pretending to clean the mess she’d made, but her mind was running circles. She looked up at Yunbin, forcing a smile.

"So... this girl, right," she said, her voice carefully casual, "what’s her deal? You said she moved here from Seoul?"

He nodded, leaning back in his chair. "Yeah. She got transferred a while ago. Some people say it was a demotion, others say she asked for it. She doesn’t talk about it."

She squinted. "How old is she?"

"Twenty five, but you know, she's the kind that looks like she hasn’t aged in ten years, but her eyes look like she’s lived three lives, after two years with her I can definitely say that she has seen a lot of shit, you know."

Jimin smirked. That sounded exactly like the you she used to know. But still... part of her didn’t want to believe it. It was too coincidental, too suspicious.

"She's like... well, she has a little scar under her eye, kind of quiet but sharp as hell, yeah?"

"That’s her," Yunbin said without hesitation. "She’s the real deal. Cold, maybe, but when she’s working a case. I swear she doesn’t even blink when looking at crime scene photos. Although, during all this time, I still haven’t gotten used to looking at fucking bodies that was teared apart, this shit still comes to me in terrible nightmares every day."

Yu didn’t respond right away. Her eyes drifted toward the window. The sound of cars passing by blurred into the background.

All at once, she was somewhere else.

Spring, maybe third grade. You sat cross-legged on the grass, a small smile tugging at her lips as she twisted little white flowers into a braid, slowly threading them through her hair. Jimin sat still, letting her do it, not because she cared how it looked but because it was your hands. Gentle, focused. Careful not to pull too hard.

"You look like one of those fairies in books," you had whispered, not even looking at her, too busy with the next flower.

Jimin had laughed. "Fairies don’t wear school uniforms!"

That memory hit harder than expected. She blinked and came back to the present.

She cleared her throat. "We were friends. A long time ago."

He raised an eyebrow. "Didn’t think she had any."

"She used to."

Yu took a long sip of her watered-down coffee and sat in silence for a moment.

"Yunbin," she said finally, "think you could introduce me to her?"

He looked at her for a second, then gave a slow, suspicious smile.

"Depends. You here for research… or something else?"

"Does it matter?"

He chuckled. "It might."

Yunbin was still smirking, but there was a note of caution behind it now.

"Look," he said, "I’ll be straightforward with you. She isn’t exactly the welcoming type. Especially not lately. She doesn’t like outsiders sniffing around, and if she gets even a hint that you’re here for your own reasons..."

Jimin crossed her arms. "I’m not trying to mess up her case! I just want to—"

"Finish your book. Get some dirt for your show. Yeah, I get it ever since you first appeared here," Yunbin cut in. "But let’s not pretend this is a clean visit. You’re not a cop. You’re not a journalist with credentials. You’re someone with a fucking unfinished book, and she’s not the same girl you remember."

Yu looked away, her jaw tense. "Then don’t introduce me to her. Just... give me a way to observe. From the edges, you know? I won't be tossing and turning right in the middle of things."

Yunbin paused, thinking. He scratched the back of his neck.

"I can introduce you to the guys from our team. It’ll give you some access—secondhand, but still better than nothing."

"It's better than nothing," she said quietly.

"But we should go now," he added. "She's out of town for the day. Went to talk to the family of the last victim."

Jimin blinked. "That last victim?"

"Yeah. A girl was found three days ago. Same setup. Same flowers. Her mother finally agreed to talk this morning. And she left at dawn."

She nodded slowly. "Then let’s go."

Yunbin stood up and tossed his cup in the trash bin, wiping his mouth with his hand. "Don't ask dumb questions, you will arouse suspicion ahead of time."

Yu raised her eyebrows. "I wasn’t planning to."

"Right."

The living room smelled faintly of old wood. A beige lace curtain swayed in the open window. You stood silently beside the upright piano, your elbow resting lightly on the yellowed wood, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

The woman sat hunched on the worn couch, hands wringing a damp tissue until it tore in her fingers. Her eyes were bloodshot and swollen.

"I still... I still can't believe it," she whispered, more to herself than anyone else.

You gave a brief nod. You didn’t write anything down yet. You just watched.

The silence lingered long enough to feel heavy before you finally spoke, your tone calm and.

"Mrs. Kang, I understand this is hard. But I need to ask some questions. About Minji."

The woman flinched at the name but nodded. "Okay."

"When did you start noticing a change in her behavior?"

"About six months ago. Maybe a little more. At first, it was small things — coming home late, locking herself in her room. But then..." She swallowed hard, voice cracking. "Then she stopped caring. She used to be such a good student. I never had to ask twice! And then her grades just... dropped. She started skipping school."

"Did she ever say why?"

"No," she whispered. "She never told me anything anymore. I asked, I begged. She’d just say I wouldn’t understand. She started wearing makeup I’d never seen before. Different clothes. And she’d come home smelling like soju."

You nodded, still not writing anything down.

"How was her relationship with her stepfather?"

The mother hesitated.

"Not good," she admitted finally. "They argued all the time. He’d try to talk to her like a father, but she’d shut him down immediately. Yell at him for stupid things. Like asking about her day."

"Did he ever hit her?"

The woman looked up, sharply. "No! Never! He’s not like that. He just… gave up after a while. Said she needed time. But I think she hated him. Just for being here."

You finally took out her notebook, flipping it open to a clean page.

"Did she mention any new friends? People you didn’t recognize?"

The woman shook her head slowly. "She stopped talking about her friends, too. I’d hear her whispering on the phone late at night, but when I asked, she’d say it was no one. I thought maybe it was just some boy. A phase."

"Did you ever hear any names? Maybe she was planning meetings with someone and mentioned it in passing?"

"No," she said, voice barely audible. "She changed her phone password. I couldn’t see anything. And now…"

She broke off again, her shoulders shaking. You looked at her, but didn’t move to offer comfort. You gave her space to cry without pity.

After a long pause, you asked quietly, "When was the last time you saw her?"

"Two nights before police found her," the woman said, eyes far away. "She was drunk again. Slammed the door on the way in. Yelled at me for cooking the wrong food. Then she locked herself in her room. I didn't even hear her leave that night."

There was a long silence again. You closed your notebook and stepped away from the piano.

"If you allow me, may I go into the girl's room?"

The woman didn't even raise her gaze, only silently nodding towards the elderly granny sitting next to her on the chair. Seeing this gesture, she stood up, took her cane and slowly walked towards you.

You followed the grandmother up the creaky staircase, the old wood groaning beneath her steps. The house was... dead quiet.

You reached the second floor, where a narrow hallway stretched in front of you. The grandmother turned toward the first door on the left and opened it slowly, letting you to enter the room.

"This is Minji's room," she said, her voice hoarse and filled with grief. "You can look, but... it's not much."

You stepped inside. The room was small but neat. A bed covered in faded pink sheets, a desk cluttered with half-finished homework, and a few stuffed animals scattered on the floor.

"She was always a good girl," the grandmother continued, standing in the doorway with her hands folded in front of her. "She never gave me any trouble, not like her father. But..." She paused, as if the words were too hard to say. "She was lonely. She used to cry, you know. Especially when she tried to reach her father."

You turned to face the grandmother, your expression neutral but her eyes sharp. "She tried to contact him?"

She nodded, her eyes watering. "Many times. She'd call him, leave messages. But he was always too busy, too angry to help. Always told her to stop bothering him."

"Did she say anything specific about that? About him?"

The old woman sniffed and wiped her eyes. "She... she just wanted him to come and pick her up once. She told me she was going to ask him to take her to Seoul. Said she couldn’t stand it here anymore." She swallowed hard. "That was the day before... the day she... well, you know."

You frowned, trying to piece it together. "So she asked him for help?"

"Yes," the grandmother said softly. "She sounded so desperate, like she was running out of time. But he just yelled at her. Told her she was being dramatic and to stop calling him." Her voice cracked. "She cried after that, poor thing. But she still called him. She called him the night before she..."

She couldn't finish the sentence. Her face crumpled as the grief overwhelmed her, and You felt a familiar weight in your chest. You couldn’t afford to feel sorry. You needed answers, not sympathy.

"I’m... I'm so sorry," you said quietly, though the words felt hollow. "Thank you for telling me."

The old woman gave a weak nod and stepped back. "I just wish he’d listened. Maybe if he had, maybe..."

"Maybe," you muttered, stepping back from the door. She gave the grandmother a final glance before leaving the room. She had all the pieces she needed. Now she just had to put them together.

Before leaving the room, you moved quietly toward the bed, your eyes scanning the surroundings one last time. Your gaze fell on the small diary that had been tucked under the pillow.

You reached down, careful not to make a sound, and slipped the diary under your jacket. It was a gut feeling, the kind that only years of experience could teach you. Of course you didn’t know what was inside yet, but it would be important.

You turned to the shelves filled with toys and felt your stomach tighten. One of the little bears, a soft, dusty pink, had its stomach torn open. The sight was... surprisingly terrifying, the plush fabric exposed, the soft cotton stuffing spilling out from the rough slit.

You stepped closer, her eyes narrowing as you crouched down to get a better look.

Your fingers brushed the torn edge of the bear’s stomach, your intuition didn't let you down, and your fingers felt something – something hard and unnatural. You carefully poked around inside, fingertips grazing a small ziplock bag that was tucked into the bear’s interior.

You didn’t know what was inside, but it was unmistakably suspicious. Drugs? Maybe. You didn’t want to jump to conclusions just yet, but the texture of the bag felt all too familiar. Poor girl, something was clearly wrong here, an ordinary child can't just go crazy one day. There's something there. Violence? Harassment? Possibly, given the strained relationship with her stepfather.

You pulled her fingers away slowly and stood up, you carefully placed that ziplock into your pocked. You wasn’t sure what this meant, but you knew it wasn’t a coincidence. This needed to get this tested — needed confirmation before you made any moves. It could tie into the case. Or it could be something else entirely. Either way, you was going to find out.

Finally you looked at the grandmother, who was sitting in the chair by the window, your hands still wringing the same tissue. You took a deep breath and walked over to her.

Without a word, you wrapped your arms around the old woman, holding her tightly. The moment was silent, but the weight of it was heavy. You could feel the pain radiating off her like a thick fog.

Your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, but in this moment, you allowed herself to just hold the woman who had lost so much.

"I swear, I’ll find the bastard who did this," you said quietly, voice low but firm. "I won’t let him get away with it."

The grandmother nodded against your chest, her body shaking with quiet sobs. "Please," she whispered. "Make him answer for his actions..."

You didn’t speak again. Simply pulled away, your eyes catched the fragile hope in the old woman’s face. You had to get to work.

As you walked back to her jeep, you lit a cigarette, the familiar burn settling in your lungs. You leaned against the vehicle, took a long drag and let out a slow breath, staring at the road.

You pulled into the parking lot of the Investigative Committee’s office, the weight of the day heavy on your shoulders.

You couldn’t let yourself dwell on it though—not yet. There was work to be done.

As you entered the office, you was greeted by the sounds of laughter. Your team, including Yunbin, was gathered around the small conference table. They were clearly enjoying something — Jimin’s jokes, no doubt.

You paused for a moment, standing at the door and taking in the sight. Yu was seated comfortably, laughing along with them, her presence like a familiar part of the group, even though you had never given her that permission.

You hand gripped the doorframe for a second as the irritation boiled under you skin, but you quickly masked it. There was no point in showing your frustration. You wasn’t about to let anyone see how much Jimin’s presence bothered you.

You stepped into the room, eyes cool as they swept over the group. Yunbin’s face lit up as he turned to you. "Ah, Chief! You’re back. We were just—"

"Keep the jokes for later," you interrupted, your voice flat, dismissing the tension in the room with the sharpness of her words. "There should be no strangers here."

Yu straightened in her seat, a flicker of something crossing her face. Maybe surprise, maybe just the usual deflection. Either way, it didn’t matter. You wasn’t going to acknowledge you in front of the team. Not yet. Not like this.

"Got it," Yunbin said, still grinning but sensing the shift in the room. He quickly moved to gather some papers, trying to ease the awkwardness.

You took her usual seat at the head of the table, pulling out the diary she’d taken from Minji's room. She laid it on the table, staring at it for a moment before opening it carefully. The words seemed innocent at first, but soon turned into pain, which the girl poured out onto paper, in the hope that it would not hurt so much inside.

You could feel Jimin’s eyes on you. But you didn’t look up. You wouldn’t let herself be distracted. Not yet.

She stayed seated for a moment after you sat down, unsure if she should say something. The mood in the room had shifted completely. The others went quiet, shuffling papers, pretending to look busy. She hated the tension, but even more, she hated that you hadn’t looked her in the eye once.

She finally stood up, slowly walking over toward the desk.

"Hey," Jimin started, her voice low, careful, like she was approaching a wild animal. "Can we talk for a second?"

You didn’t lift her eyes from the diary.

"It’s been a long time, I know," she continued, hesitating. "But I think I can help. With the case. I have media connections, people who’ll talk to me, not the cops. I know how to handle this stuff."

The room fell completely silent. Yunbin looked up from his seat, lips pressed into a line.

You flipped a page in the diary with deliberate calm. Then, you closed the textbook, sat back in her chair, and looked at Yu like she was something you'd scraped off her shoe.

"You show up out of nowhere, ten fucking years later, like nothing happened," you said flatly. "You want to play detective now?"

"Listen, dear—" Jimin’s voice cracked slightly.

"Don’t fucking call me that," you snapped, standing up. "You don’t belong here. This isn’t a goddamn joke. These girls are dead. You’re not going to use this case to write your little novel or impress your TV buddies."

"I’m not trying to—"

"Get the fuck out of my office, Jimin."

The words hit like a hammer, and she blinked, caught off guard by the raw anger in her tone. It wasn’t just professional — there was pain behind it. Real, personal pain.

Yunbin stood up too, putting a hand on your shoulder.

"Chief," he said softly. "I know how this looks, but Jimin’s not a bad person. She might actually be able to help. We can control what she sees. Just give her a chance."

You didn’t look at him. Her jaw tightened. Her eyes stayed locked on her, who now stood frozen in front of the desk, her hands curled into fists.

"One chance," you said, voice cold. "You step out of line, even once, I’ll have security drag you out the fuck out of here."

Jimin nodded, swallowing whatever pride she had left.

"I won’t get in your way."

"You already did," you muttered, sitting back down.

The Jeep moved steadily, tires humming quietly beneath them. You drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting rigidly in your lap. Jimin sat in the passenger seat, her hands clasped together, thumbs fidgeting.

You hadn’t spoken in almost ten minutes.

"Thanks for letting me come," she said, finally breaking the silence.

No reply.

She glanced sideways. Your eyes were fixed on the road, jaw tight.

"I mean it. You didn’t have to. I know that."

"You’re right. I didn’t," you said flatly.

She exhaled a short breath, more like a sigh. "You’ve changed... a lot."

You scoffed. "You haven’t."

"No, I have," Jimin said. "Maybe not in all the right ways. But I’m not the same girl who ran off after graduation."

"You didn’t run off, Jimin. You disappeared."

The word hit hard. she bit the inside of her cheek, watching the waves crash far beyond the roadside barrier.

"My parents dragged me to Seoul without warning. It wasn’t planned, it just... happened. And I should have called. Wrote. Anything. I know."

Your hands tightened on the wheel. "And ten years passed."

You thought about what was said, it was all a complete mess, does she seriously think that she can show up after so much time as if nothing happened?

You fell silent, talking to Jimin about personal things is the last thing you need, because what if you get carried away again, fall head over heels in love again, no. There is a patrol of the spit by the sea ahead, and getting close to her is the last thing you need.

#gg x reader #girl group x reader #wlw #sapphic #kpop smut #aespa #aespa x fem reader #aespa x reader #girl group #girl group x fem reader #karina x fem reader #karina x you #karina x reader #yu jimin x fem reader #yu jimin x reader #yu jimin smut #sapphic smut #smut

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axeeglitter · 10 months ago

Text

Back from the Vault: LifeX

Nathan Brown sat hunched over his desk, the glow of his laptop screen illuminating his tired eyes. His San Francisco apartment was a mess: clothes strewn across the floor, empty takeout containers stacked on the kitchen counter, and a half-empty coffee mug perched precariously on the edge of his desk. Nathan's bed was unmade, a tangled heap of blankets and pillows. The room smelled faintly of stale air and sweat, the result of a broken air conditioning unit and a lack of motivation to clean.

Nathan was staring at his laptop screen, scrolling through yet another round of job listings. His bank account was dangerously low, and the anxiety of unpaid bills was gnawing at him. He was 26 years old, recently graduated with a degree in communications, and he was struggling to find any kind of work. His YouTube channel, where he reviewed video games and shared walkthroughs, was his only source of income, but the revenue it brought in was barely enough to buy groceries, let alone pay rent or bills.

Nathan was average in build, with a light tan from his Latino heritage, and short, dark hair that he usually kept neat. His face was lightly stubbled, a sign of his growing indifference to grooming as stress took over. He sighed and rubbed his eyes, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle into his bones. He was on the brink of giving up when a notification popped up on his screen, breaking his focus.

"Subject: Exciting Opportunity for Collaboration!"

Nathan hesitated, then clicked on the email. It was from a company called LifeX. He didn’t recognize the name, but curiosity got the better of him.

“Dear Nathan,

We’ve come across your YouTube channel and believe we could work well together. LifeX is launching a groundbreaking new game, and we are looking for individuals to help us with beta testing and promotion. Your content aligns perfectly with our vision, and we think this could be a great collaboration. If you accept, you’ll also be able to help us optimize the AI of our games by creating your own NPC character, it’ll be later implemented in the game when it’ll be released. Of course, we offer financial compensation for your work.

Looking forward to hearing from you.

Best regards, The LifeX Team”

Nathan’s first instinct was skepticism. It sounded too good to be true, and he’d heard horror stories of scams and phishing attempts. But the desperation for money overrode his better judgment. He quickly searched for LifeX online, finding only a sparse website filled with vague marketing speak about “immersive experiences” and “cutting-edge technology.” There were no reviews, no user testimonials, nothing solid. This should have been a red flag, but Nathan was too desperate to care. He needed this. He needed a break.

Nathan decided to respond. He typed out a quick reply expressing his interest. Almost immediately, another email arrived, containing a download link, setup instructions, and a NDA requesting his personal information: name, age, location, and other details. Nathan filled out the form, barely thinking about the potential consequences. He selected the longest trial period possible: one month, hoping it would give him enough content for his channel and enough time to determine if the collaboration was worthwhile.

As soon as he submitted the form, a melodic chime sounded from his laptop, followed by a smooth, professional voice:

“Thank you for signing up, Nathan. To begin your experience, you will first create the NPC character, and then you’ll be ready to start your experience in the environment you’ll choose. For the trial to run successfully, please ensure that your computer remains on for the entire duration of the test period: one month. Any interruption may result in data loss or corruption. Welcome to LifeX.”

Nathan frowned at the last part but shrugged it off. He figured it was just standard legalese, probably meant for immersion. The screen changed to a character creation window, displaying a basic human figure in a T-pose. Nathan leaned forward, curiosity piqued, and started customizing the avatar.

He named the avatar “Cody,” envisioning him as the polar opposite of himself. Cody would be everything Nathan wasn’t: confident, athletic, and effortlessly cool. He adjusted the height to 6'4", pushed the muscle sliders to the maximum, giving Cody bulging biceps, a broad chest, and thick, powerful legs holding a perfectly muscled ass. From the corner of his eyes, Nathan spotted a slider on the groin area. He laughed as he understood he could also determine how big he could adjust Cody’s penis and balls. Smiling, he selected the largest option possible for his dick and added a huge heavy pair of balls to go with it, watching it grow in proportion to the rest of his body. He added bright hazel eyes, bushy eyebrows, and messy dark brown hairs that would contrast perfectly to the pale sun kissed skin.

After the body customization, Nathan saw a new window open: Clothes and accessories. After thinking about it, he chose a pair of denim shorts that ended mid-thigh, showing off Cody’s muscular legs. Nathan opted for no T-shirt, exposing Cody’s ripped torso and added a ripped sleeve shirt opened on his muscled hair pecs. He then moved on to accessories and decided to put a loop earring on his right ear and a silver chain around his neck.

After the customization was done, it was asked for Nathan to enter some information about the NPC he just created to create a base behavior for him. After a while, Nathan decided to go for the stereotypical fratbro behavior to go with the appearance he just did. He started typing, adding details about Cody’s lifestyle. He entered notes in the behavior interface: “Cody is dumb as a brick. He loves gym, training and being barefoot, feeling the ground under his calloused feet.” He laughed as he added another line: “Cody never takes showers, loves the smell of his own musk, enjoys sniffing his hairy armpits after a workout and scratching his big dick every couple of minutes after what he smells them and always smile enjoying his own musk.” Nathan chuckled, amused at the thought of creating such a ridiculous character. It was so far removed from his real life that it seemed like a fun NPC to talk and interact with. Just a dumb easy-going character that is always down for a fuck and a drink after a gym session barefoot in the woods.

Satisfied with his creation, he confirmed the settings. The game prompted him to select a location, and he chose the Secluded Forest Realm, envisioning Cody as a carefree physical trainer just out of college living in a cabin in the wilderness.

The screen went black for a moment, and the professional voice returned: “Now that your character is complete, it’s time to play! Please keep your computer running at all times to maintain synchronization. Any interruption may lead to data corruption. Enjoy your month-long experience, Nathan, and welcome to LifeX.” Nathan was really getting excited now. He conder what kind of character he would create for himself when he saw a flash of light on the screen. It looked like some kind of swirling mesh, almost like a blackhole. For a moment Nathan thought it was kind of a cool effect, but everything changed when he went to grab his half drink cup of coffee sitting next to him only to realize his right hand was tingling and tiny particles were escaping his nails, flying straight to his screen.

A sudden wave of fatigue hit Nathan, and the lights in his apartment flickered briefly. A sense of unease washed over him, making the hairs on his arms stand up. Before he could react, the tingling sensation spread from his fingertips up through his arms. He stared in disbelief as his fingers began to dissolve into streams of glowing white code, spreading quickly across his body. He tried to scream, but his voice caught in his throat. His vision blurred as the Life X logo was pulsing in bright light in the center of the screen with a loading bar under it going up further and further. The last thing he saw was the 100% before everything went black.

Nathan found himself suspended in a void. He was floating, naked, surrounded by darkness. Panic set in, his heart racing as he tried to move, but his body was frozen in a T-pose. The sensation was bizarre, as if he were trapped in a dream. He wanted to call out, but his voice was muffled, like shouting underwater. The smooth, professional voice returned, echoing through the void:

“Welcome to your new life, Nathan. Don’t panic; this process is normal and painless. In a few moments, you will begin your ideal life in the Secluded Forest Realm. Relax and feel calm. Avatar synchronization will begin in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…”

“What the fuck, where am I? What is going on? Why can’t I move?! HELP!!” thought Nathan as he tried to scream even though his face remained frozen.

Nathan’s body suddenly stiffened. A pressure built inside him, starting at his core and spreading outward. His bones stretched and cracked, lengthening to match Cody’s new height. His arms and legs grew longer, muscles bulging and expanding to fill out his new form. Nathan could feel his muscles tearing and healing at an accelerated rate, becoming stronger and more defined with each passing second.

His skin began to tighten, smoothing out imperfections and leaving with a perfectly smooth skin all around his muscled body. Nathan would be screaming if his voice mas not muted. Everything was burning and it was like feeling his DNA being rewritten while still being conscious. As he felt tears rising up his eyes, a new sensation invaded his newly modified skin. In his pits, legs and between his pecs, he felt like thousands of needles were piercing holes. The sensation was only multiplied as he started to feel hair sprouting from the holes. They were dark brown and thick but worst, the sensation of piercing needles started to appear around his groin too. Still wondering what was happening to him, Nathan tried to connect the elements he could find and that when he realized. The secluded forest, the muscles, the hair; that was Cody’s information, which means… Just enough time to understand what was happening to him when the hair started to sprout in abondance around his dick and nuts and climbing up his sculpted abs in a thin happy trail. After the hair, the modifications started to appear on his face. His jawline becoming sharper and more angular, his cheekbones more pronounced. His lips filled out, becoming more defined, while his eyebrows grew thicker, framing his eyes. His vision sharpened, colors becoming brighter and more vivid. His brown eyes shifted to a bright hazel as he lost vision for a moment. Everything was happening all at once and still, Nathan felt like it was an eternity of pain.

Nathan’s hair thickened, turning into soft, dark strands that fell casually over his forehead. His ears reshaped slightly to match his new head structure. A sensation of warmth spread through his throat as his vocal cords tightened, his voice box reshaping. When he tried to speak, his voice was deeper, richer, and carried a slight accent, a relaxed, Western drawl.

Nathan felt a growing warmth in his groin and realized what was about to happen now. All of a sudden, he regrated giving Cody such a big dick and heavy nuts. His cock thickened and lengthened, becoming larger than Nathan had ever been. He could feel the veins snaking down his growing dick as his cock head started to grow thicker and bigger. He could feel the cold air surrounding him as the head sneaked out of his foreskin. Wait, his foreskin? He didn’t remember going this far in details. His nuts fall down and grew thicker and full of potent cum as he could feel them going overload working on creating new manly sperm nonstop. Nathan could feel the horniness starting to rise as his body was assaulted by huge amount of testosterone. A drop of precum appeared at the tip of his cock as he could feel the weight of it between his legs, an odd sensation that both embarrassed and intrigued him. His buttocks tightened, becoming firm and lifted, while his thighs and calves thickened with muscle.

The transformation was almost complete when Nathan felt a sharp pain on his left pec. He wanted to scream, but his body was still frozen. The pain was like a branding iron pressing into his skin. “What is this?!” screamed Nathan in his new deep voice. A voice appeared from all around him “Dear user: NATHAN BROWN, as talked with you earlier on, you agreed to review and help us create the new generation of AI used for our NPCs. For that, your character, CODY, will have to be monitored. This assignation, XXIV, is the link to your identity and allow us to track your character. Please relax as your actions will be tracked and then saved. The program will make sure to copy all your movements, thoughts and everything that your character, CODY, might do to make sure to copy human mechanism that will be implemented in our NPCs later on. Thank you for your service.” When it subsided, a Roman numeral tattoo “XXIV” was there, bold and black, as if it had always been part of him. Nathan could feel the tattoo pulsing with energy, as if it was more than just ink on skin.

As his body finished transforming, clothes materialized around him. He now wore a sleeveless, open checkered flannel shirt and a short pair of denim shorts. Then he felt his ear being stabbed as the earing appeared in it and the coldness of the silver metal appeared around his neck. His feet then started to tingle as Nathan could feel the skin of his sole getting thicker and denser to better serve his barefoot lifestyle in the forest.

Nathan was terrified about what he just heard; his humanity was going to be used to program AI that will be implemented in NPCs. How is that even possible? Does that mean he was Cody now? And for a whole month? He didn’t agree to this. He had a life outside, friends, job to find, maybe some interviews if he was lucky. And about the bills? What was he going to do?

As all the questions were swirling in his head, Nathan fell the restriction holding his body in place as it was being modified lift. He could move on his own again, and the first thing he tried to do was take of his shirt or necklace. But every tug on the clothes or metal fell like he was trying to rip a part of him away. The clothes were part of him now. Nathan started to feel tears rise once again in his ears as all he could see around him were the infinite void of this artificial world. “Modification process terminated, Assimilation to the realm starting in 3,2,1…” Out of nowhere, the ground started to shake under Nathan’s barefoot. Then he saw light pierce through the ceiling. As a reflex, he put his hands to cover his bright hazel eyes but the light was way too bright. Nathan could see entire walls of darkness vanish and being obliterated by this bright light coming from above and fear started to raise in him. Nathan closed his eyes as all he could see was the infinite light engulfing the void and him with it. When he opened his eyes, Nathan was alone in a cabin in the woods, standing in front of a mirror. For the first time, he could see from the first person point of view what the body he created really looked like. Everything was looking so life like, even scent of pine and dirt were coming from the opened window next to him. He could smell the woods, feel the sun on his skin, the wood under his foots. Everything was lifelike. As Nathan sight started to look what his transformed body looked like, his head started to spin. Nathan grabbed it with his two manly hands but the pain was growing stronger. And in the blink of an eye, Nathan was no more. Cody stared at his reflection before smiling and flexing his biceps while smiling. His right hand lowered to get inside his shorts and scratch his hairy dick before putting his fingers under his nose to smell his musk. Cody laughed as he walked away, grabbing a snack on his way out to go exercise a bit in the nature.

“New NPC starting test phase. Remaining time 30 days, 23 hours 59 minutes 23 seconds. Behavior analysis… Acting following user NATHAN BROWN encoding. Tester assimilation… Assimilation stable, user will turn back when tests are over.”

______________________________________________________________ Hey guys! Here's another story back from the Vault, and it's my first ever published story: LifeX Hope you guys enjoy this new version of my story. Let me know what you think of it. As always, my asks are open and i'm always looking for new ideas and prompts from you. I try to answer them all and I love to read your ideas so please, don't be afraid to send anything you'd like me to write and I'll do my best to do it :) Take care of yourself! P.S. A follow up to this story should arrive soon ;)

#male transformation #my writing #mental change #male tf #reality change #tf #gay #personality change #straight to gay #digitized #LifeX #bro tf #frat bro #broification #dumber tf #dumber #smart to dumb #musk

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notoh-dev · 1 year ago

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Flowers for Kasumi on Itch.io!

Flowers for Kasumi was a demo that @eredoh and I (previously Nedras) released in 2017. It was developed in RPG Maker VX Ace. While Flowers for Kasumi is on an indefinite hiatus, (at least until my other project, The Doctrine of Perseverance is completed) I wanted to share this old demo as it is dear to me, and there is at least one confirmed character who is also in TDOP. Also, the RPGMaker.net download is inaccessible due to their website being down.

I have also merged the setting for both projects (This will be more noticeable once the full game for TDOP is completed): Flowers for Kasumi will take place in Noxton, some other characters in FFK will see name changes as well in the future. Other story elements from this project are subject to change in the future.

Synopsis

Flowers for Kasumi tells the story of titular girl, Kasumi, and how her life ended so abruptly. The game takes place in the fictional town of Kumashina, a small town that holds a grave secret. In the midst of fall, protagonists Isa and Omoka will unearth the secrets behind Kasumi, and the truth behind her death.

Solve puzzles and piece together the dark mystery of what happened to Kasumi Erizawa.

Disclaimer

This is a demo from 2017. The project's development halted around late 2018/early 2019. Eredoh and I were teenagers when we began, but as life got busy, it was ultimately discontinued. I have just returned to game development last year (2023). Flowers for Kasumi is on an indefinite hiatus until my other project, The Doctrine of Perseverance is completed.

>> Download on Itch.io <<

Affiliated Links

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#indie game #game demo #rpgmaker #rpgmaker horror #rpg horror #pixel horror #mystery game #visual novel #indie visual #art by op #art by me #screenshot #game screenshots #mad father #misao #corpse party #anime game #rpg maker

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mediumgayitalian · 2 months ago

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its wiiiiiiiip wednesday my little dandelions

HI all. it has been some days since ive posted. ive been feeling weird but im better now mostly. anyway.

it is time at the moment to choose one of five (+1, got more requests than usual this week and i am benevolent) wips for me to update tomorrow. will i 100% listen to democracy? we shall see. is there i chance i leave it to the last minute and get too tired to write anything but a 100 ways? you betcha. but regardless: the poll will immediately succeed this message. then, i will link previous iterations of each wip AND a small snippet of what i currently have for the update. i will work on and post this TOMORROW. read snippets before u vote. mwah. love u.

naomi fic: art more art 1 2 3

The baby does not scream. He does not cry. He does not even blink, for a moment, for a heart-stopping minute; he does not even move.

This is what the nurses tell her, anyway.

Naomi does not know. Naomi was unconscious, and damn near died on the table; her little parasite wormed his way out of her limp as a rag doll and the doctor had sworn he was dead, but he was only resting, taking a breath, a minute, to situate himself. To feel the cold air of the new world before committing to existing inside of it. Cautious, her little parasite. Wary. Already heeding her warnings.

All Naomi knows is that he is small, when she holds him. He fits in her one hand. There is still blood and fluid caked everywhere but his little face, where the nurses wiped him clean, and his nose, even this early, is dotted with freckles, spreading across his cheeks. He opens his tiny little eyes and they are blue --

-- celestial blue --

-- sky blue --

-- and Naomi gasps, struck breathless. He is silent. He is open. He is trusting, tiny and helpless, but quiet in her arms, against her chest.

"You and me," she whispers, tucking her baby son against her chest, against her slowly beating heart, "you and me, sheer fuckin' Will."

divorce fic: 1

Will huddles in the fork of his favorite tree, Cass nearby, gathering herbs, and taps his pen on his notebook. On a page near the end, in careful, neat writing, are names, scrawled up and down the page, crushed into the margins. It reads:

Top choyses: - Bekendorf (nice) - Clarees (proteks me maybe) - Carter (plays soker with me) - Silena (pretty) - Annabeth (frend) - NOT ellis (anoying)

Among others. Will works the end of his pen in his mouth as he squints at the list, considering. He tries to remember some of the summer-only campers, but he can't keep them straight as well since he hasn't seen them in almost a year.

"Cass," he calls, waiting for the sound of a snapped root and her followed yes, firefly? "Which summer campers are the least annoying? Nobody like Michael."

She ponders that question for a good moment. Will watches several different expressions morph across her face.

"...Well," she says, biting her lip to hide her smile, "it might help if I knew what you'd been scribbling away at for the last hour."

pomegranate au: 1 2 (*snippet once again subject to change; i have like 3000 words written that i am not vibing with so i might need to restart)

In his dream, they are in Ephyra. Will stoops low over a flowering bush in a meadow between two orchards, and Nico stands, hair curling in the misting humidity, watching him.

He looks good in red.

There are bangles of gold on his wrists and ankles, like there usually are. His fingers glint gold off the sun. Wine-dark begonias make home again in his hair, twisted among the strands, and black leather sandals adorn his feet. Nico tilts his head, noting them; the thin bands that wrap up his calves and the new soles sitting stiffly under his feet. He shifts, bending low towards the flowers, and Nico imagines he can hear them creak, creasing under the changing weight.

He steps, once, towards him.

He does not move.

He calls out, or tries to. His voice travels out of his mouth and wraps around the rain, disappearing into the low-hanging clouds; he huffs, and drops to the ground, crossing his feet under his thighs and resting damp palms on his knees.

Rain drips, stinging, into his eyes.

He watches Will for a long time. Or, it feels like he does, in his dream; Will flits, humming, from plant to plant, gathering stems and flowers in the apron of his robe, stretching ever few moments as the bend pulls the muscles on his back. When he has gathered enough, and his apron is overflowing, he stands, sighing, and walks up the hill to where Nico is sitting.

Will does not look at him. He looks through him, where he sits, he moves in his eyes in the direction where Nico is watching him but no recognition lights up his features, no part of his irises trace the shape Nico takes up. He only walks, as if there is no one, and sits an arm's length to Nico's right.

Nico reaches out. There is stone, between them, invisible, or at least it feels like there is.

scientific method fic: prologue 1

———

Step Two: Research

———

Will wakes up and beelines for the Hermes cabin, long before they are anything close to getting up for the day, and climbs through the window. He paid Connor seven dollars for a map of their booby traps yesterday, so he manages alright, only setting off the one pie plate full of whipped cream that Connor neglected to tell him about, but jokes on him 'cause Will tripped trying to get over the window sill and landed on his face before the pie plate could nail him on the nose.

He steps around the mess, creeps to the bunk on the lateral side of the cabin, nestled right in front of the opening of the secret tunnels Will isn't supposed to know about, and crawls very, very carefully on top, balancing on his knees. It's a strain, but it's no worse than the climbing wall. He breathes carefully and shallowly, hovering over the sleeping body, waiting for the sun to cheerfully inch all the way above the horizon, and for the rays to turn mussed auburn curls gold, for the light to fan over dark eyelashes. There is squirming, and then a sleepy yawn, and then, from across the cabin, a what the -- followed by harsh shushing. Will manages to bite back a grin.

And then there is the slow blink of brown eyes.

"Hi," Will says.

Cecil screams at the top of his lungs.

"There is something -- fucking wrong with you!" he shouts, kicking Will off his bed, and then cusses him out in so many different languages that Will loses the ability to actually inhale, dying in a little ball on the floor.

"Your -- your face," he wheezes, having no energy to dodge the kick Cecil aims for his ribs. "Oh my gods, your soul left your body --"

"I hate you."

"Oh my gods --"

"Genuinely. Die."

"Gods," Will says, wiping a tear from his eye. A quick glance around the cabin shows several of the other Hermes kids in a similar state. Connor seems to have actually blacked out. Julia reaches over and high-fives him. Will smacks her hand with verve, cementing his role as Cecil's replacement. Currently he is winning their eternal prank war 2,701 - 2,699, which has to sting.

"It doesn't sting. Just know that when I get you, there will be no mercy involved."

"Yeah, yeah." Will snorts, crawling up onto his best friend's bunk and making himself comfortable. He watches as Cecil tries to get dressed in the clutter that is his cabin in the early mornings and offers unhelpful commentary -- "You are colorblind, please stop trying to tell me what socks pair best with this shirt." -- until he sighs and stops fighting the smile pulling across his face. "You love me."

"Whatever." Will pouts. Cecil sighs. "Yes, I love you, you rat bastard."

"Excellent. Hey, subject change -- have you ever died before?"

road trip au: 1 2 3 4

It is not quite dark, when they cross the Tennessee border, but the sign is squarely behind them and deep, dark orange, glinting blindingly off the blue road sides. Regardless, Will doesn't falter; he does not slow down and squint at every exit sign or murmur to himself as he counts the miles. This is unusual, because Nico has seen him squint to verify the street signs on the road he lives on.

Nico watches him, quietly.

Will pretends he doesn't.

They are in and out of Chattanooga. The mountains, too, are only flashes -- beautiful, staggering flashes, but Will winds through them with ease, and does not pause. Nico notes the bored holes every few feet and traces the jagged cliff faces with his eyes, memorizing the way the setting sun turns the stone to ruby.

He flinches every time there is a sharp turn, or a hole in the road. Every twitch of Will's shoulders has him gripping onto the holy shit handle, and if Will so much as removes one hand to scratch his nose Nico stops breathing. They are never doing this again.

But it is nice, this one time. To watch the world whir by outside the rolled-down windows.

pillow princess: 1 2

He wakes up before noon, as instructed. Today there is no struggle. He does not bother to pray for the strength to keep his eyes open. In fact he almost leaps out of bed, and would have outright sprinted to the Apollo cabin was there not a piece of paper balanced on his nose.

He sits upright and collects it off his lap, where it falls, inspecting it closely. It is heavy paper. Cardstock, ivory. Folded crisply once, like a place card at a banquet table. The writing is elegant cursive and shiny gold, which is murder on his dyslexic eyes, and takes him a good twenty minutes to puzzle through.

To His Highness Niccolo di Angelo, son of Hades, Prince of Hell, it reads, in confirmation of your appointment at the Chelsea Hotel, Penthouse Suite. On this day, June 5th, no later than 2 post meridiem.

And then, in messier, penciled handwriting, under elegant swirling decorations:

do NOT shadow traval!!! xoxo Will <3

Nico traces his finger over the misspelled 'a', grinning.

"Alright, you little weirdo," he mumbles, heading to his closet. He digs around until he finds the deep, wine-red shirt that always makes Will twitch. "Let's see what this is all about."

#alright!#i had fun with the scientific method one #so we'll see #wip wednesday #wip wednesday poll

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sylusjinwoon · 1 year ago

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{ 180 }

autobiography.

fan!sung jinwoo x author!fem.reader

{ got stains on my t-shirt and i'm the biggest flirt | right now i'm solo, but that will be changing eventually, oh | got bruises on my heart and sometimes i get dark | if you want my auto, want my autobiography | baby, just ask me... }

anonymous said: Brainrot of my day: Imagine an author Reader and Booknerd Jinwoo, when he was still an E rank hunter he liked to read her work lot and when he became a well known hunter she was inspired by him to make a biography about him so she reaches out and imagine how flattered he was when she reached out! His favorite author wanting to make a biography. About him?? EEEEEE

you were absolutely fascinated with the seemingly sudden cinderella story that took the form of a new and upcoming hunter that went by the name sung jinwoo.

with your reading glasses settled across your eyes, you did some extensive research on jinwoo and ran across various news articles detailing all of his latest successes and raids. your hands itched with the desire to open a fresh document and draft everything that you knew about him so far-

ah, but you were getting ahead of yourself.

being a well-known author, you have written a plethora of novels since your early 20s, even managing to reach the bestseller's list quite a few times as well. your face was plastered against the back covers of each novel that you published, and the fans that you had would always recognize you immediately, taking photos with you or asking if you could sign a copy of your novels for them.

you were a mere civilian, but you were incredibly happy that your passion for writing helped give you somewhat of a celebrity status. your name wasn't as well-known as the hunters surrounding the world, but in your opinion, you were known enough by the right amount of people.

as you read through each article and watched the videos that featured south korea's latest, s-rank hunter, you had the desire to somehow reach out to jinwoo himself.

after all, biographies were written with the sole purpose of celebrating that person's life-

so long as you had that person's permission.

you lean back in your seat, grabbing the cup of coffee from your desk as you took a sip of it whilst deep in thought. with your fingertips hovered over the keys once more, you type in the website for the korean hunter's association branch, searching through the site until you reached a section that read most notable hunters.

clicking on the link, you scroll down until you see jinwoo's name. you open up jinwoo's profile and keep scrolling down until you saw his contact information, noticing his email address:

[email protected]

cracking your knuckles, you open your email account and begin typing out your message to the hunter you were desperate to write about.

{ ... }

from: [email protected]

to: [email protected]

subject: would you like a biography written about you?

hello! you may know me as the author of some books, most notably true blue and the aurora syndrome (and if you've never read any of my books, that's okay too!)

long story short, i'm an author and would like your permission to come and meet with you- maybe even interview you and write a biography about you? i am truly so awed by your story and would love to learn more about you!

reply back when you can-

(i really hope you'll agree to meet me!)

signing off~

{ ... }

"HOLY SHIT THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING TO ME!"

before sung jinwoo could further bask in this unexpected email that he had received, jinho bursts into his office, panic written all over his features as he calls out to him.

"boss, are you alright?! what happened?!"

he could feel the heat traveling up his neck and upwards towards his ears, making jinwoo force a smile when he waves off jinho's concern all while trying to maintain a neutral face. "oh, it's nothing, ah... my favorite soccer team just scored another win and i got really excited."

jinho gives jinwoo a look of suspicion, not quite believing him. however, not one to question his president, jinho shrugs before leaving the office.

"let me know if you need anything, boss, i'll be around."

giving jinho one last (albeit stiff) nod, the hunter waits with bated breath for his vice president to leave before letting out a shaky breath.

"holy shit."

to say jinwoo was freaking out would be the understatement of the century. jinwoo's favorite author of all times had reached out to him (him!) with desires to write a biography about him.

his mind was spinning, and he actually had a copy of the aurora syndrome with him right now. jinwoo adored your stories, but the aurora syndrome held a special place in his heart. in the novel, the protagonist was a young adult who suffered from narcolepsy, and it spoke about their day to day life while dealing with such a disorder.

in many ways, jinwoo could relate to that protagonist (especially during the time where he was still labeled as the weakest hunter in the world), since they were known to be self-conscious and meek, but was slowly able to come out of their shell thanks to the support of their family and friends.

and the same author of such an amazing novel (aka YOU) wished to write a book about him?!

the young hunter's head couldn't stop spinning. he kept pacing around his office, pinching himself every so often to make sure that he wasn't dreaming.

after reading (and rereading) your email at least a hundred times, jinwoo's hands begin to tremble when he goes back to his desktop pc. fingertips trained over the keyboard, he begins typing out his reply to you-

(a feat that ends up taking an hour or so due to the sheer amount of times he had to write and rewrite the same message over and over again to make sure that it was perfect for you.)

{ ... }

from: [email protected]

to: [email protected]

REPLY: would you like a biography written about you?

i am honestly so honored to have you writing a biography about me!

my story isn't much, just a series of events that just proves how lucky i am.

i've taken some time off for you and your interviews, is 2 weeks enough?

reply back when you're able to... and let me know if my arrangements work well for you.

sincerely,

sung jinwoo

{ ... }

you were pleasantly surprised when jinwoo got back to you within mere hours of receiving your email. due to his quick rise in fame, you thought that you would be left on read for at least a month or so.

"hm, perhaps sung jinwoo is more down-to-earth than i expected?"

a strange warmth fills you at the thought, and you truly were grateful to jinwoo for taking the time out of his day to get back to you so quickly.

just as you were going to send another email to talk further about the details, you receive yet another new email notification from jinwoo. curious as to what he sent, you open up his email and felt your eyes going wide in response.

xxx xxx - xxxx | sung jinwoo

call me?

now this was new. were you overthinking things, or was jinwoo actually eager to speak to you?

you shake your head at the thought, feeling a bit flabbergasted yourself. not wanting to squander this amazing opportunity, you take out your cellphone and type in the numbers seen on the screen. with your heart was racing in anticipation, you let out a deep breath before calling the hunter directly.

the other line rings a few times and you were pleasantly surprised to hear jinwoo pick up the phone on its second ring.

"h-hello?" you were dimly aware of the sounds of shuffling on the other end, clearing your throat as you began your end of the conversation.

smiling into the phone, you introduce yourself by full name, "thank you so much for allowing me the pleasure of doing this- ah, of calling you, i mean."

"oh, y-yeah, it's no problem at all!" a series of nervous, high-pitched laughter was heard coming from the other end. "s-sorry for acting w-weird but, i never expected my favorite author to contact me about their desire to write my b-biography."

the warmth seems to spread throughout your body upon hearing his admission. "what? are you kidding me? who wouldn't want to write a biography about you! your story is amazing, mr. sung!"

"jinwoo." his grave voice catches you off guard momentarily.

"ah, wait a minute... you're actually allowing me to call you by your first name?"

"i don't see why not, b-because i assure you, i've admired you for far longer than you have admired me. your novels have truly changed my life."

you felt your smile widen as you continued speaking to him, "and may i ask what books of mine that you have read?"

jinwoo's voice becomes a bit more passionate now, and you listen to him rant about every single novel you had written thus far, a fact that made your cheeks feel warm as an even wider grin spreads across your face.

sung jinwoo had to be your number one fan.

"well mr- i mean, jinwoo, you have just made my day! actually, since you've pretty much read all of my novels, you must know that your biography will be my first time writing a non-fictional story?"

"of course, that's why i can't stop my heart from pounding with excitement. i've always loved you- i mean, your work."

he seems to have realized his slip up, quickly covering it up so that you would not mention it when he asks you if you agreed to spend the next two weeks with him, making you do another yet another double take.

"whoa, seriously? you're letting me meet with you so soon?"

jinwoo's rich chuckle fills you, "of course. knock on wood, but things have been pretty safe lately, with only low level gates appearing. if anything major comes up during the two weeks you are in seoul with me, i can always ask the other s-ranked hunters to deal with it. so are you in?"

truly, who were you to reject such a generous offer?

{ ... }

perhaps jinwoo was a little too excited to see you.

despite all your protests about having him buy you the plane tickets to get to seoul, he did it anyways. he paid for you to have a first class flight while making sure he would be sent updates to where you were at all times.

but he really couldn't help how he felt.

when he was at the lowest point in his life (being labeled as the weakest in the world with his father missing and his mother in a coma, all while his sister was relying on him), jinwoo found great comfort within your novels. he could relate to each protagonist on a personal level, and he had longed wished to meet the writer behind these wonderful stories-

he had longed to meet you.

so it was no surprise that he didn't sleep much during the hours leading up to your arrival.

it was no surprise that your picture plastered in the back of each novel was an image that he burned within his mind.

and it was certainly no surprise that he would become infatuated with you after hearing your voice and catching a glimpse of your personality during your phone call.

so when your plane lands in seoul's main airport at 3am, jinwoo was the first to arrive with his trademark van, holding up a sign that had your name written on it as he waited for you within the airport lobby.

jinwoo kept pacing around the airport, waiting for you at the gate you were meant to come out of. he was close to sending the several, panicked emails to the airlines he had booked tickets for had it not been for your sudden appearance. as you step out of the gate, he recognizes your side profile, feeling his heart begin skipping beats the closer you got to him.

you had a tired and confused expression on your face, with a single luggage in hand as you searched around for him. however, thanks to his height, you saw him almost immediately. a smile paints your features as you walk up to jinwoo to meet him.

"hello jinwoo, thank you so much for picking me up, a-and for booking the ticket for me to come here."

jinwoo could feel his throat turn dry at the mere sight of you because dear god, were you so much prettier in real life than in your photos.

{ ... }

you tilt your head at jinwoo, holding your luggage in one hand as you wave your free hand across his face. for some odd reason, jinwoo appeared to be captivated, not saying a word despite how you had stood in front of him for a total of 5 minutes now.

"jinwoo?"

as if finally hearing your voice, jinwoo snaps out of it, with you watching as he runs a hand across his hair while a light pink blush was seen spreading across his cheeks. he smiles down at you before wrapping his arms around your back, bringing you closer to his chest in a warm embrace.

"hey, i'm glad you made it here safe."

you hum in response, basking in the gentle but minty sweet scent of his cologne wafting off of his suit. you awkwardly return his embrace with one hand before looking up at him. "so, where to now?"

"well, you're going back to my place, of course." jinwoo takes a hold of your luggage before walking out of the airport, giving you little choice but to follow him.

"w-wait, that won't be necessary! i had every intention of staying at a hotel for the next two weeks! i don't wish to intrude on you-"

jinwoo stops walking, facing you fully with glowing eyes. they appeared to be translucent blue in hue as he places a hand beneath your chin. "please, i insist that you stay with me. you're still my guest, and it would pain me to see you spending a single cent while you're with me."

the familiar heat was felt returning to your cheeks. it was clear that jinwoo exuded a high amount of charm, and from the way his kind gaze was practically begging you to allow him to do this for you, you found that you lost the will to protest against him.

"well, if it's alright with you, then i thank you."

when jinwoo ends up patting your head / ruffling your hair, you felt the warmth simply deepen, allowing him to gently take a hold of your hand as you both left the airport together.

{ ... }

for once in his life, jinwoo was glad that he bought a separate apartment to crash in when he had to spend late nights at his guild.

because if he had allowed you to stay within the same space as his mother and little sister, they would never keep his 'crush' on you a secret (especially jinah).

after a 30 minute ride where he exchanged small talk and usual pleasantries with you, he takes you back to his 'work' apartment and invites you inside. despite the riches he has earned during his raids, jinwoo still chose to live a relatively modest lifestyle, renting out a two bedroom apartment that wasn't too small, nor too big.

he shows you the spare bedroom and points at the bathroom settled in the hallway, reassuring you that you could make yourself at home and alert him if you needed anything. you respond with your usual kind smile, and jinwoo leaves you alone to get unpacked.

knowing that you were probably starving after such a long flight, jinwoo heads into his kitchen to cook a delicious meal consisting of hotpot and ramyun noodles. he works on cutting up all the meats, seafood, and various vegetables while heating up the broth in the middle of his dining room table.

despite knowing how he wouldn't have much of an appetite while in your presence, jinwoo still wanted to cook some hearty for you (just in case). as he was finishing up the hotpot, he sees your figure inching closer to the dining room.

"wow, it smells so good, jinwoo. you're also a good cook?"

"absolutely yes."

you giggle in response, "well, i guess i'll just have to dedicate a whole chapter of your biography to how much of an amazing cook you are!"

he gives you a grin while gesturing at you to have a seat. with all the bowls and utensils surrounding the table, he beckons at you to dig in first. "i'm gonna grab us some sodas to enjoy, so you go ahead and start first."

"ah, are you sure?"

"absolutely! go on and don't be shy." he feels the butterflies taking over his abdomen, getting out some cans of soda before sitting across from you. as you begin eating, jinwoo felt a surge of pride swelling inside of him when you tell him how wonderful everything tasted.

he replies to your genuine compliments with a tiny 'thank you,' starting to eat as well, all while sneaking glances at you.

{ ... }

the following days spent with jinwoo kind of felt like a dream, if you were to be honest with yourself.

and it made you wonder, did all celebrities act like this toward the authors who wished to write their biographies?

deep down, you knew the answer to that question as being no-

that this was a special case between you and jinwoo.

as you interviewed him and asked about his life, he would take some time out of his day to treat you to various things. from eating out at expensive restaurants, to playing around and having fun at the local amusement park-

this felt more like going on dates than just work on your end.

and admittedly, you were having a lot of fun with him. not a single day went by where you didn't feel the excitement coursing through your veins. you ended up enjoying jinwoo's company so much that you felt almost a sense of sadness coursing through you at the thought of going back home and leaving him.

however, during your last night here in seoul, you pushed aside such pesky emotions and began writing out a draft of his biography. you knew that once you started your writing process, then you would not stop-

which is perfect for when you knew you wouldn't be able to sleep.

the door to the spare bedroom was closed as you hoped that it would muffle the incessant sounds of you typing away on your laptop. the last thing you wanted was to disturb jinwoo's sleep when you had every intention to pull an all-nighter writing the beginning chapters of jinwoo's biography.

after writing a few paragraphs, you stop typing to admire your work so far:

sung jinwoo is a 24 year old young man born on march 8, xxxx to his mother, park kyung-hye, and father, sung il-hwan. he spent most of his childhood living a relatively normal life with his parents and little sister, jinah. despite his seemingly normal upbringing, sung has faced many tragedies that left a permanent mark on his life. from the sudden disappearance of his father, to his mother falling into a deep coma due to the eternal slumber disease, he was left with the heavy responsibilities of caring for his seemingly broken family. but this biography is not a tragedy; in fact, the words written within the pages of this novel will be a testament to sung jinwoo's strength as he changes from the world's weakest hunter to the world's strongest hunter through a series of fated events...

a sudden knock heard at your door breaks you out of your read-through of the first few paragraphs that you have written.

"come in."

upon receiving your permission, jinwoo steps into the room with an unreadable expression on his face. there was a deep emotion settled within his eyes, and you wondered if something was bothering him.

"hey, you're still awake? are you okay?"

jinwoo's head was bowed to you, and you hear him murmur something.

"i'm sorry, jinwoo, but i didn't quite catch what you just said. can you repeat yourself?"

the young man begins to tremble when he speaks once more, this time clearer than before. "please stay with me."

your eyes go wide when jinwoo swiftly joins you on your bed, taking you in his arms when he suddenly presses his lips against yours in a kiss filled with desperation. you let out a surprised gasp, allowing jinwoo to take advantage of your parted lips as he dips his tongue within the confines of your mouth.

jinwoo greedily explores your taste, falling into bed with you as your back lands against the mattress. your heart was set aflame thanks to his kiss, and you could no longer deny the way it sang for him each time he was near. with your eyes clenched shut, you shyly return his kiss, allowing him to deepen it as he kept your head still with his large hands.

when the need for air proved to be too much, you and jinwoo both reluctantly pull away from each other, your eyes both hazy with the adoration you felt for one another. as you met with jinwoo's passionate, grey eyes, you watch as he leans down to press a chaste kiss against your lips.

"i'm sorry, but you need to know that... i've been half in love with you for a long time now. ever since i read your debut novel, i was hooked on you."

while he confesses to you, jinwoo brings you into his embrace, allowing you to settle yourself on his lap as he brushes his lips against your forehead. "i understood and found bits and pieces of myself in each and every protagonist you wrote about, and with each new novel that i read by you, the more i felt my admiration and crush for you morph into something else entirely- something much deeper and more meaningful."

you remain silent throughout it all, feeling overwhelmed as you listened to each and every one of jinwoo's words. he frames at your face, eyes now filled with unbidden love for you, "to make a long story a lot shorter, when i got stronger and managed to become an s-rank, all i could think about was how this made it easier for me to potentially meet you someday."

"so when you reached out to me first, eager to know about my life because of how i became stronger... i knew i couldn't let this chance go."

he smiles at you, taking in your wide eyes and the way you parted your lips in such a cute manner. with a sigh of your name, jinwoo kisses you once more. "i thought i'd be happy, simply spending two weeks alone with you, but i've quickly come to realize that two weeks just isn't enough."

despite how fast your heart was racing, you could feel the grin gracing your features as you nuzzled the tip of your nose against jinwoo's. "oh? and if two weeks isn't enough, how many days would i need to spend with you for it to be enough for you?"

a smirk was settled on jinwoo's handsome face, "honestly, i could have you for a lifetime and it still wouldn't be enough for me."

feeling your fondness for jinwoo also morph into something more powerful, you found that you were unable to say no to his gentle demands, becoming oh so captivated by his eyes as you land against his chest with a smile.

"i guess i may need to apply for some type of visa in order to stay here with you in a more permanent sense."

jinwoo chuckles while tightening his arms around your frame, filled with joy at what was to come-

but little did you know, so long as you agreed to marry him by the end of this year, then you would have no problems remaining forever by his side; he'd make sure of it ♡

a.n. - and with this story, it will be my last one before i start my rotations tomorrow for school! my updates will be semi-active, but i will be kept busy with various assignments 🥹 i just hope that you readers remain patient with me if it does take me a minute to update with new jinwoo stories!

this is currently unedited, but i'll make any changes once this is posted! until then, i hope you readers enjoy reading this!

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

#sung jinwoo x reader #jinwoo sung x reader #sung jinwoo x you #jinwoo sung x you #solo leveling x reader #.stories

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bekkandaa · 1 year ago

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Tom Riddle: Narcissism, Heritage, and Mental Breakdown

This analysis will delve into Tom Riddle's narcissism, heritage, and my own hypothesis that a mental breakdown led to the ultimate murder of his family.

Before I begin, it's important to define some key psychological terms for anyone unfamiliar with the subject. I'll try to simplify things down, but if anything doesn't make sense don't worry too much.

Malignant Narcissism: This term describes individuals who exhibit all three traits from "The Dark Triad"— Machiavellianism, Psychopathy and Narcissism.

Machiavellianism : Commonly characterised by manipulation and exploitation of others, unemotional callousness, self-interest, and an overall lack of morality.

Psychopathy : Commonly characterised by continuous antisocial behaviour, selfishness, unemotional callousness, and an overall lack of remorse.

Narcissism : Marked by grandiosity, pride, egotism, and an overall lack of empathy.

In Psychoanalytic theory, primary narcissism is a normal part of child development, involving self-interest and object-love. Children often harbour notions of greatness and believe they are immune to any consequences. As they mature, they become disillusioned from these grand notions to integrate into mature society. pathological narcissism actually develops when this process is disrupted, resulting in defective narcissistic structures.

( Interestingly, a number of psychiatrists have established a direct link between malignant narcissism and evil— a perspective likely considered in the creation of Tom Riddle's character. However, it is important to note that while there is a connection, it does not necessarily define someone as evil.)

Tom Riddle's behaviour aligns perfectly with Heinz Kohut's theory of object-love. According to Kohut, a child requires a mother to affirm their grandiosity or, lacking this, seeks an adult to create an "idealised parent image." Tom, lacking a mother figure and grandiose figure to emulate, proceeded to construct his own powerful parental figure.

This is evident when we see Riddle question Dumbledore about his father's wizardry, as Tom assumes his mother could not have been a witch as if she was she wouldn't have died. This belief is shattered during his teenage years, which inevitably triggers his (narcissistic) rage of his idea being disillusioned. Tom Riddle has always been a character with an ongoing quest for identity and self-validation, which is seen in his prolonged search for the Chamber of Secrets to confirm his status as Heir of Slytherin.

Tom Riddle's obsession with power and control is a fundamental aspect of his character we can't ignore. The pursuit of control is a primary human motivation, gaining control is actually proved to enhance one's sense of well-being. For someone like Tom, when this control is threatened, they would resort to coping mechanisms to preserve their sense of self. For a narcissist like Tom, a threat to his control equates to a threat to his very self.

Now, to my entire point. The revelation of his true heritage and the truth about his parents triggered a mental breakdown, causing an identity crisis. Freud posits that human behaviour is influenced more by the unconscious mind than the conscious. The unconscious mind protects itself by concealing negative memories, which can affect behaviour and attitudes. In Tom’s case, his father's abandonment left a mark, which he could not reconcile. His only solution was to eradicate this source of shame and hatred.

Tom Riddle’s patricide and subsequent name change to Voldemort signify his profound self-loathing and rejection of his humanity. This action eradicates the evidence of his shameful heritage. According to Krech, hatred often correlates with anger, manifesting as a desire to destroy the source of hatred. Riddle’s murder of his father and paternal family was an attempt to reclaim control and restore his ego. TLDR : Tom Riddle has a fragile sense of control and ego, loses the sense of control once he learns of his true heritage. Causing a mental breakdown and killing his family. In conclusion, he is miserable and hates everyone. ( even himself to a point.)

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slut4thebroken · 2 years ago

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All Work, No Play: hour one

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jackson Rippner x reader

Summary | You meet Jackson at the bar in the hotel you’re staying at and decide to be brave and try something new; a one night stand. But it doesn’t go the way you think.

Warnings | NON CON 18+, sexual content, fingering, vaginal sex, dubious consent, threats of anal rape, degradation, humiliation, misogyny (like so much lol), choking, hickeys, cunniligus, crying, edging, stalking, voyerism, breeding, unprotected sex, emotional manipulation, putting misogyny again lol, objectification, face down ass up🤭, dehumanization, threats of murder and torture, I think that’s everything skdjdk.

Words | 6.5 k

Notes | READ THE WARNINGS. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CHOOSE TO VIEW. The last thing I wrote that was this intense was maybe the beginning chapters of exposure therapy or the dark!jason series💀

Ao3 link | <3

Fic Masterlist

Main Masterlist

This is the last warning, if you keep reading and find something you don’t like, that’s on you. I have it clearly written what’s in this fic, if you choose to ignore it, don’t be a bitch about it and comment hate or report it ❤️

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“Can I sit?” Your head snapped up, finding a man standing behind the empty seat next to you.

“Yeah. Go ahead.” You said awkwardly, clearing your throat and putting your attention on your drink as he sat down.

“I'm sorry, I'm not usually this forward, but I was wondering if I can buy you a drink?” Your eyes widened and you turned to face him, not expecting that question at all.

“Um- sure. Thanks.” You gave him a small smile, feeling your cheeks heat up when he returned it. He called the bartender over to order his drink, then looked at you expectantly. You ordered, then finished off the rest of the drink you already had— two shouldn’t be too bad.

“I’m Jackson.” He said, holding his hand out for you to shake. You told him your name in return and he muttered it to himself, testing it out.

“What brings you here?” You asked, turning toward him to give your full attention.

“Work. You?”

“Work.”

“I have to say though, this trip is turning out to be much better than the others.” He gave you a small smile and you tried not to get too overwhelmed with the butterflies in your stomach as you stared at him, wondering almost anxiously about where this was going.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“This time a beautiful girl let me buy her a drink.” You averted your gaze as your face heated up, not used to such sudden compliments like that.

“I guess I could say the same then.”

“I don’t believe that.” He scoffed playfully. “You must have men practically lining up to buy you drinks.”

“Nope… Just you.” You said, embarrassed. Thankfully, the bartender placed your drinks in front of you, giving you a break from his attention. “So how long are you staying here?” You asked, changing the subject.

“I should only be here one more night. Maybe two depending on how tough the job is.” He shrugged.

“Oh okay. I’m flying back over the weekend so I’m here for a few more days.”

“Do you have any personal time or is it all work and no play?” The way he said it made it sound like an innuendo… but you weren't completely certain if it actually was.

“Well I have enough to sit at a bar and talk to a stranger.” You smiled behind your glass as you took another sip.

“I see… And what about going someplace quieter with a stranger? Do you have time for that?” He said lowly, making arousal pool in your stomach as his eyes darkened slightly.

“I think I could spare a bit. It depends on what this stranger wants to do.”

“I’m not sure it would be appropriate to say in the middle of a hotel bar.” You eyed him curiously, deciding what to do. You’re not a one night stand type of girl, but he’s hot and you’re a little pent up.

“Then I guess we should go somewhere you can tell me.” His lips curled into a smirk and he immediately reached in his pocket to pull out his wallet and place some cash on the bar for your mostly untouched drinks.

He stood and held a hand out for you to take as you got to your feet, letting him lead you over to the elevator. On the ride up, you tried not to let your nerves consume you, but you weren’t doing a very good job of that. The doors opened and he led you to his room, using the key card to open the door, then holding it open for you to walk in first. You looked around the room, finding no luggage and the bed perfectly made as if it hadn’t been slept in yet.

“How long have you been here for?” You turned to face him as he placed his key card on the dresser and you waited somewhat impatiently for his answer.

“A few hours. I mostly just have to work tonight.”

“Oh… Do you need me to go then?” You asked, not understanding why he would invite you here if he had to work.

“Of course not. How would I get any work done if you left?” Your brows furrowed as you replayed his words in your head, still not understanding.

“Um… I— What?” You laughed awkwardly.

“I'm gonna be honest, I thought I’d have to try a lot harder to get you to my room.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You asked, but he ignored you.

“I mean, I know you pretty well by now and I didn’t think you were the type to do one night stands.” You stared at him in confusion, but your stomach was twisting with a sense of complete and utter dread that something bad was about to happen to you.

“I’m a little tired actually, I think I’m just going to go to my room.” You said, tentatively walking forward, but he remained between you and the door, blocking you.

“But the night’s just getting started.”

“Jackson, please move.” You said quietly, gaze shifting between his face and the door. He took a step closer, making you stagger back as he approached.

“Now that we’re somewhere quieter, I guess I should tell you what I want to do. Or… not what I want, but what I’m going to do.” You were quickly nearing the wall behind you as he kept moving closer. When your back hit it and a small gasp escaped you, he placed both hands on the wall on either side of your head, trapping you.

“I need something from you. Depending on your attitude, I’ll either take it, or you’ll give it to me willingly. One of those options will be significantly more painful for you and fun for me.”

“Please let me go.” You whispered, not able to maintain eye contact. He didn’t say anything for a moment, then suddenly grabbed your cheeks to turn you toward him, making your eyes snap back to his.

“Beg if you want, but you’re not leaving here any time soon. Not until I get what I want.” He said lowly, words sounding like they once again had a different meaning.

“What do you want?”

“Two things. We’ll start with the fun one first.” The hand on the wall dropped down and he snaked it back up your thigh, under your dress. “Which pair did you wear, hm? I hope it’s that red set. The black one’s cute too though.”

“What?” You said through a breath, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Don’t play dumb, you know what I’m talking about. The lacy one that you seem to love so much. You take so many pictures of you wearing it and I know you don’t have a boyfriend so who are you sending those to?” He said teasingly.

“How do you know that?” You whispered, heart pounding in your chest.

“Same way I know that you like to walk around your apartment naked.” Your stomach twisted at the smirk on his face.

“I- I don’t understand…” He shushed you before you could finish. Not that you could formulate a response anyway.

“You don’t need to worry your pretty little head about it. For now, let’s do what we came up here for, yeah?” He wasn’t asking you, he was letting you know what was happening, but you weren’t about to go down without a fight.

“You’re fucking psychotic if you think I’m doing shit with you.” You spat, pushing his hand away when it started moving toward your underwear.

“Baby… don’t be like that.” He cooed mockingly. “I know how pent up you are so stop being a stubborn bitch and just enjoy it.” He warned, tone significantly harsher than before.

“Fuck you.” His hand suddenly moved from your face to your neck, squeezing tight enough to make you raise your hands to claw at his arm. You thrashed around in his grip, prompting him to place his leg between your thighs and push his body against yours, mostly immobilizing you.

“Keep this up and I’ll torture you to get what I need, then kill you and fuck you— in that order.” You let out a strangled whimper and squeezed your eyes shut. “Do you understand?” You did your best to nod with his grip on your neck.

“Yes.” You managed to force out through a wheeze.

“Good.” His grip loosened significantly and you took in a huge breath, chest heaving to get the much needed oxygen. “Where do you want it? Against the wall? …On the bed?” He asked coyly. Your bottom lip trembled as you stared at him, desperately waiting for him to just say that this was all a joke and he didn’t mean any of it. But he never did. “Bed it is.” He answered for you.

Using his grip on your neck, he pulled you from the wall and pushed you back toward the bed before practically shoving you onto it. He stood at the foot of the bed, staring down at you on your back, propped up by your elbows to look up at him.

“Strip.” He demanded, eyes focused only on you. Hesitantly leaning up into a sitting position, you started with your heels, unbuckling the strap then dropping them to the floor— only debating for a moment if you should throw them at him or try something else, but you didn’t want to take any chances. Moving on to your dress, you pulled the zipper down until it loosened and took a deep breath before moving the straps so that the dress fell to around your hips. You lifted your lower half off the bed a little to slide it the rest of the way off, then waited.

“Please don’t play dumb, it’s not a good look on you. You know what I want.” He said, all but rolling his eyes. Letting out a shaky breath, you reached behind yourself to unclasp your bra, discarding it to the growing pile on the floor. Your underwear was next, slowly sliding them off and keeping your legs together before covering yourself with your hands.

“Fuck they’re even better up close.” He groaned, taking off his suit jacket. “Do you know how many times I jerked off just watching you walk around naked? You should really learn to close your blinds, you know. Sure people from the street can’t see you, but I could see you perfectly from the roof on the building across from yours.”

“Why are you doing this?” You whimpered, watching as he unbuckled his belt before taking it off.

“People pay me to.” He said with a shrug, making you scoff.

“People are paying you to rape me?”

“Of course not. That’s just a bonus.”

“You’re sick.” You hissed.

“Maybe. But what does that make you?” A smirk was making its way on his lips.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I can see how wet you are.” He said plainly, gaze dropping to your legs.

“You’re fucking delusional.” You spat.

“Am I?” He walked over to pick up your discarded— damp— underwear, holding them up for you to see, making your face burn. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I’ve been told I’m conventionally attractive and I know you’re into this, even if you won’t admit it.”

“Into what? Being raped?” You scoffed.

“Not to that extreme. You want to be forced— dominated against your will. You want me to take what I want from you and trust me, I have every intention of doing that.”

“Look I don’t know who you think you are but you can’t just,” He was on you in a second, roughly shoving you so you were laying down, then holding you there with a hand wrapped tight around your throat.

“I can’t what?” His voice was low and menacing, a warning. “Hm?” He raised his brows and you clenched your jaw, trying not to panic as your head was starting to feel light again. “That’s what I thought. If you’re done with your tantrum, let’s get started.” You glared at him, teeth grinding together painfully. Despite everything, the fact that you just gave in so easily was what made you feel the worst. You barely put up a fight… and you know why. Because he’s right. You came up here with him because you thought he was attractive and wanted to fuck him. It’s not like you can just turn off that attraction.

“Please let me go.” You whispered, eyes brimming with tears of humiliation.

“No.”

“Then just fucking get it over with already! Do you want help? Is that it?” You reached for his pants and started working on the button, but he released your neck to pull your hands away, holding them in one hand above your head. When you swallowed thickly and turned away from him, he grabbed your neck again, but didn’t squeeze as hard as before.

“I watched you for weeks. I’m not about to rush things now.” Your eyes fluttered shut and you willed the tears away. You let out a stifled sob, biting your bottom lip when it started trembling again. His mouth was on yours suddenly, pressing a rough kiss to your lips as you tried to flinch away from him. His hand snaked down from your neck to grope your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers in a way that was bordering on painful.

He trailed kisses over your jaw, down to your neck, then sucked the skin into his mouth, only releasing you when he was satisfied with the darkness of the bruise. Moving to a new place, he did the same thing, leaving hickeys all over your neck and down your chest before sucking your nipple into his mouth. You tried to stifle the gasp, but he heard it anyway. Once he deemed your nipple hard enough, he moved to the other one to give it the same treatment. His hands were pawing at your body, groping your breast and gripping your side to hold you still as you squirmed. He pulled up, looking at you through his lashes with slightly parted lips as he panted.

“Ready for the fun part?” He smirked and you thought that meant he was going to fuck you, but he kissed down your stomach until he made his way to your legs, settling between them. He pried them apart even more and eyed your sex eagerly, making your cheeks heat up.

“What are you doing?” You choked out and he tore his eyes away from your cunt to look at you.

“You thought I’d watch you play with this pretty pussy for so long and not enjoy it?” He scoffed. Before you could protest, he was leaning down and licking a long stripe up your slit. Biting your lip, you swallowed down the moans threatening to escape. He focused mostly on your hole, lapping up your arousal and fucking you with his tongue, all while groaning against you.

Moving up, he sucked your clit into his mouth and swiftly pushed a finger inside, making you jolt. Your lip was aching because of how hard you were biting it but you couldn’t risk letting out any moans.

“Please,” You whimpered, trying to push yourself up the bed. In retaliation he inserted another finger, then wrapped his other arm around your thigh, pulling you down onto his hand. “Please stop.” You cried. If anything, your begging made him work harder.

“Why? Getting close?” He smirked, barely pulling away from your clit to speak. You shook your head with a whimper as the tears finally started to fall. The thing is though… you were getting close. It’s been so long since you’ve been with another person, let alone someone this talented.

“Stop...” You whined, bringing your hands down to push at his head.

“God- I can fucking feel you clenching down on my fingers. You are close aren’t you?” He looked up at you through his lashes with a glint in his eyes.

“We can’t have that though.” He said, removing his fingers and pulling away from your clit. “Not yet.”

“Why are you doing this?” You whispered, staring at his figure that was blurry with unshed tears.

“It’s nothing against you. The job leaves little time for.. personal activities… I saw an opportunity so I took it.” He all but shrugged. Instead of giving you a chance to respond, he pushed his fingers back in and sucked your clit into his mouth again. As his fingers curled against your walls in places that previous partners— and yourself— haven’t even discovered, you couldn’t hold back the sounds anymore.

“There you go.” He cooed. “Just give in and I’ll make you feel so good.” He mumbled against your clit before flicking his tongue against it.

“Stop.” You whined. In response, all he did was force another finger inside. You don’t know how he knew, but the second you neared the edge again, he pulled back, making you whine.

“Feels good doesn’t it?” He asked, slowly curling his fingers against your walls, but keeping his mouth away from your clit. “No boyfriend, no one night stands… Just you and your vibrator.” He chuckled, making your face heat up. “You really like that thing. It’s cute.”

“Fuck you.” There wasn't even a hint of malice in your tone. Just pure embarrassment and need.

“Yeah I bet you want that too. Don’t worry, there’s no fucking way I’m leaving here before getting my cock in this tight little cunt.” You let out a choked sob and turned your head to the side as your hips started moving against his hand. “I could feel you clench down on my fingers… dirty girl.” He clicked his tongue in mock disapproval, then leaned down to suck your clit into his mouth again.

As you squirmed under him, you gripped the sheets hard enough to make your fingers hurt so that you wouldn’t move your hands to his hair— knowing you would try to pull him closer rather than push him away. He continued the assault on your cunt, his mouth and fingers creating utterly vulgar sounds that completely filled the room, adding to your humiliation.

He slowed to a stop again and you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from protesting. Once he knew your orgasm had faded, he slowly curled his fingers against your walls as his other hand reached down to pull out his phone. He eyed it, then set it on the bed next to your thigh.

“If you give me what I want, I can speed all this up and give you what you want.”

“You’ll let me go?” That made him chuckle.

“That’s not what you really want.” The worst part is that it wasn’t… You wanted your orgasm that he’s been teasing you with for the past few minutes.

“You still haven’t told me what you want.” You said, changing the subject.

“Right to business then. Alright.” He removed his fingers suddenly and your hips flinched forward, chasing the pleasure. “I need to know the code to disarm the alarm at your work.”

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about, I don’t have access to that.” You said nervously, making him sigh.

“Please don’t waste my time. Tell me and I’ll make you come. If you don’t tell me, I’ll have to resort to more… unconventional methods.” You tried not to scoff at that— how is this not already unconventional?

“What are you going to do with it?”

“I’m not going to do anything. All I have to do is to get you to talk, by any means necessary, and I’m very dedicated to my job. That’s why I stalked you for a couple weeks— to get to know you.” Your breath caught in your throat at the admission. How did you not notice that you were being stalked for weeks? “Unfortunately your family isn’t in the picture and you don’t really have friends— you definitely don’t have a boyfriend. All of that really limited my options. Luckily I like a challenge.” He smirked and you waited anxiously for where he was going with this.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’ve tortured people before. But after watching you for so long, I knew I needed to do something special. You deserve so much more than just water boarding or a beating.”

“You’re fucking sick.” You whispered, trying not to cry at the fact that this was not his worst.

“I could’ve threatened to rape you instead— obviously I still would’ve done it after I got what I wanted— but I had a feeling you’d respond better to this. So, you give me what I want and I’ll make you come, it’s as simple as that.”

“Fuck you.” You spat, making him chuckle and check the clock on the nightstand for the time.

“I’m trying to be nice, sweetheart, but if you don’t give me what I want… I will hurt you.” He condescended. “And not in a normal way— no, that would be a missed opportunity.” He leaned over you until his breath fanned your lips. “You don’t give me what I want, and I fuck your ass instead. No lube, no prep, just my fat cock splitting you open until you beg for mercy.” He said lowly. You tried not to show any outward signs of fear, but judging by the look on his face, you knew you were unsuccessful. “And I won’t give it to you. I’ll keep fucking you until you eventually pass out from the pain, but even then I still won’t stop. You’ll tell me everything I want to know and more, just to have the slightest chance of me stopping.” Your body trembled as you stared up at him, watching his gaze move all over your face as he studied you.

“Now,” He whispered, “are you going to give me what I want or am I going to have to hurt you?” Your brows furrowed as you thought, trying not to cry. Maybe he’s bluffing? “Is this really worth getting raped in the ass over?” He asked, tilting his head slightly. When you remained silent, paralyzed in fear, he hummed and pursed his lips, then leaned back up. He flipped you onto your stomach and when you heard the zipper on his pants go down, you started thrashing. He placed a firm hand on your upper back to hold you down as he freed his cock.

“Wait!” You yelled, when you felt his length brush your ass. “Wait— please, I- I’ll tell you, just please don’t.” You cried, anxiously awaiting his next move. “Please— I’m sorry, Jackson. I’ll tell you.” You rushed out, breathing growing more labored as panic and fear consumed you.

“If you lie, I’ll know, and I’ll do it anyway.”

“I- I won’t, I promise.” You whimpered as he picked up the phone, then a moment later, held it to his ear.

“Yeah.. Are you ready for it?” You listened anxiously. “Go ahead.” He said, talking to you now. You told him and he repeated it back into the phone. “Good. Alright, let me know.” He tossed the phone back onto the bed.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” You were starting to relax now that the threat wasn’t there anymore, but calming down made you feel all of the other emotions at the same time— anger for being stupid enough to fall for his charm, shame for enjoying the way he was pleasuring you, guilt for betraying your work so easily, and worst of all, desperation. You were desperate for more, and both of you knew that.

You let out a choked sob and he removed his hand from your back but you didn’t move, you just buried your face into the sheets and cried.

“You’re a crier?” He said, almost disgusted. “Those are the worst people to work with— actually I shouldn’t say people. It’s the women who cry, and usually before I even get to the fun part. The men that do cry at least wait until after they’ve been tortured for a while.” You couldn’t respond, not when you were focusing so hard on trying to take in oxygen through sporadic breaths with your face in the sheets. You were just glad he wasn’t pushing on your lungs anymore.

“God- will you quit it already?” He snapped, making you flinch. He suddenly leaned over you, his cock laying heavy on your ass. He brushed your hair back to see your face, then roughly grabbed a fistful to turn your head enough to make eye contact. “As long as you didn’t lie, you have nothing to worry about… So what’s the problem?” You knew he wasn’t genuinely asking.

“I- I,” You couldn’t hold down the sob crawling up your throat. “Please don’t. Please— I gave you what you want.” You whimpered, making him raise his brows, as if to say, really?

“Have you ever been raped before?” He suddenly asked, making you let out another quiet sob.

“No…”

“You’ll live.” He shrugged, as if that made it better. “Sure you’ll think about this every day for the rest of your life and you’ll hate yourself for craving it again, but you’ll survive.” You let out a stifled whimper and squeezed your eyes shut. “You won’t even hate me more than you’ll hate yourself, you know why? Cause all I did was give you what you want. You’re the sick fuck who actually enjoyed being raped.”

“Please stop.” You whimpered, wincing when he tightened his grip on your hair.

“I bet you really do want me to rape your ass. Are you just being coy, baby?” He cooed and you violently shook your head to disagree. “Let me ask again.” He reached down and shoved two fingers in your cunt. “Do you want me to rape your ass?” He repeated, barking out a laugh when you sobbed harder, but clenched down on his fingers. “God you’re fucking disgusting. No wonder you don’t have a boyfriend. I mean, who would want to date a girl who practically belongs in a brothel for fucks sake?” He started moving his fingers inside you, making you choke on a moan.

“Actually— not even that. You’re not worth any amount of money. You belong on the streets, just a free use whore for anyone who needs a warm hole to fuck, isn’t that right?”

“Fuck you.” You muttered weakly.

“Did I strike a nerve?” He cooed mockingly, curling his fingers inside you just a little bit faster. “Surely with a body like this you must be used to people objectifying you by now.” You weren’t. At least not to your face.

“How’d you even get your job, huh? You fuck your boss?” You bit the inside of your cheek to try and ground yourself, not let your emotions consume you. “Did this run through little cunt get you a promotion? Even if it didn’t, I’m sure the only reason you were hired was so that your coworkers could have a pretty little thing to look at everyday.” He snickered. Even though you knew that everything he was saying wasn’t true, tears were still brimming in your eyes from his words.

“Sluts like you are the worst kind. No one likes it when you play hard to get, that defeats the whole purpose of being a whore.” He removed his fingers from your cunt, making you hiss at the sudden loss. When he leaned back up and picked up his phone, you didn’t turn to face him, you just remained still.

“Lucky girl. Thank you for your cooperation.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “Now that business is done, I’d say we’re long overdue for some pleasure, wouldn’t you? Get up on your knees.” He moved off of you to let you rise up, but quickly stopped you. “Did I say on your hands? You don’t deserve to be fucked with dignity.” He roughly shoved your head forward until you landed against the mattress with a grunt. “You deserve to be fucked like the whore you are. Now stick that ass up, you don’t want me to tell you again.” You adjusted your position on your knees and felt the bed shift as he moved behind you.

“Jackson, please.” You whimpered, turning your head to the side so he could hear you. You didn’t even know what you were begging for anymore. He ignored you and lined himself up with your entrance, rubbing the thick head through your folds, spreading your arousal.

“You better hope your whore pussy isn’t too loose because if you can’t make me feel good, I’ll have to use a different hole.” As if to emphasize his point, he placed the tip of his cock against your asshole, making you stiffen. He quickly went back down to your cunt, then applied some pressure. When your walls finally gave in to the intrusion, you cried out at the stretch and tried to move away, making him grab your hips to hold you still.

“Ah, ah, ah— keep that fucking back arched.” He placed a hand on you and pushed down until your lower back was bent uncomfortably. “That’s it. Good little slut… Ready for more?” Before you could answer, his hips were snapping forward until he was flush with your ass, making you all but scream at the sudden force. Because of his hand holding you down, you couldn’t move away and the pressure of his hips against your ass was bending your back almost painfully.

“Huh… Tighter than I thought it’d be.” He said, almost to himself. And you had to keep from saying ‘no fucking shit’ because of the way he was stretching your walls to their limit. He started up a slow, but hard pace, dragging out, then snapping back in. Each thrust made you scream and he moved his hand from your hip to push your face into the sheets.

“Jesus- shut the fuck up already. You may want everyone in this damn hotel to know that you’re being fucked stupid right now, but I don’t. My line of work requires discretion.” Your moans quieted a bit and he let go of your head and leaned back up.

“And just so we’re on the same page, sweetheart, if you attract any attention and someone comes to the room, I’ll kill them and then you. I don’t need you alive for this part so you better do everything you can to convince me not to break your fucking neck.” He growled and you let out a muffled sob. His thrusts sped up, and you bit down on your lip hard enough to draw blood so that you’d stay quiet.

“God- you fucking love this shit, don’t you? I might even have to keep you as a full time fuck toy.” You whimpered at the horrible thought, even though it made your clit throb. “Yeah I bet you’d like that too. Wouldn’t have to worry about anything else but pleasing me— no job, no social life, I’d take the burden completely off your shoulders and let you live the way you were meant to; as a worthless little fleshlight, desperate for cock anywhere you can get it.”

You’ve never been talked to like this before. Sure, past partners have indulged in some of your kinks, but never to this extent, and never this well. You could feel your mind slipping away from you too. The longer he fucked you, the harder it was to remember why you didn’t want him to.

“Are you on birth control?” He suddenly asked. You were confused about why he would care about being safe now, when you’re already in the middle of the act.

“No…?”

“Of course you’re not. God it’s like you’re fucking begging to be knocked up.” You suddenly realized how this night was going to end and it was like a bucket of ice water was poured on your head.

“W-wait,” You started lifting yourself into your elbows, but he placed a hand on the back of your neck and forced you down, keeping you there as he shushed you.

“There's no need to panic. It’s your own fault for not protecting yourself.” You let out a choked sob and he pushed you down harder into the bed to muffle your sounds. “And anyway, this is what you were made for so how about you just stop fucking whining and be a good little breeding bitch.” You were crying again now, almost hyperventilating into the sheets, but he didn’t let up, he just held you down harder and fucked you faster.

“I can’t say I necessarily want kids myself but maybe every nine months I’ll auction you off to the highest bidder— let you really fulfill your life’s purpose.” You couldn’t tell if this was a meaningless threat or not. “I’ll still whore you out during the nine months though, don’t worry. I’m not completely cruel.” He snickered. His thrusts were growing more erratic now and his breathing was getting more and more labored.

“Don’t you like that idea, baby? I’ll strap you down to a breeding bench and let all of those disgusting men that you pretend you’re above have a turn with whichever hole they want. You’ll be so fucking covered in come by the end of it that you won’t even recognize yourself.” He roughly grabbed your hair and pulled your head back uncomfortably, making you cry out. “I’d still have my fun with you though, don’t worry. No matter how many cocks you take in those pathetic little fuck holes, you’ll still be mine.” The softness of his tone was a harsh contrast to his words, making your head spin. The speed in which he pulled out and flipped you over made your head spin even more though. He leaned back over you and grabbed your cheeks with one hand while the other positioned his cock at your entrance again, pushing back in.

“Tell me you’re mine.” He said quietly and your brows furrowed as you looked away. “Tell me, baby. Tell me this whore body is mine to use however I want.” You whined loudly and he gripped your face tighter.

“I’m yours.” You whispered, bottom lip trembling. He jerked his hand back and slapped you across the cheek before placing it on your neck and squeezing hard. You looked away from him as a scared whimper escaped you.

“What was that?”

“I’m yours! I- I’m yours…” You sobbed out. His lips curled up into a satisfied smirk.

“Tell me you’re only good for being my cocksleeve.”

“I- I’m only good for being your cocksleeve.” You whimpered.

“Tell me you’re my breeding bitch whose only purpose is to make babies and take cock.” He growled, grip tightening on your neck. You whined and squeezed your eyes shut, then shook your head. “You know it’s true so fucking tell me.” He warned, pushing down on your windpipe until you gasped for air.

“I’m your breeding- bitch whose only purpose is…” You were actually struggling to breathe now, barely able to get the words out, but he didn’t seem to care, “to make babies and take cock.” You wheezed, making him loosen his grip. You gasped in a breath as your chest heaved.

“That’s right. Now… I know I said if you give me what I want, I’ll give you what you want… and I can feel how your pathetic cunt’s about to cream all over my cock, but… like you said, your only purpose is to make babies and take cock. Breeding bitches don’t need orgasms.” The choked sob you let out was probably the worst part of all of this because it was genuine. You really were getting close and you were looking forward to that release— for one moment to just forget what was happening.

“No- no, please.” You whimpered, eyes filling with tears for an entirely new, more humiliating, reason. “Please, Jackson, I’ve been good. I- I did what you said— I gave you what you wanted.” You cried, bottom lip wobbling.

“I know, honey.” He cooed condescendingly. “Other than the insolence and fighting back, you’ve been so good, haven’t you?” Your frown deepened at that.

“Please, I’m sorry— I’m sorry, just please let me come,” Your voice had a whiny edge to it that you couldn’t control.

“You poor thing… Look at me, baby, there you go.” Once you were staring into those hypnotizing blue eyes, he continued, voice much lower now. “I want you… to remember this moment. I want you to remember the way you begged your rapist to let you come.” You swallowed down a whimper, throat bobbing under his hand.

“The next time you think you’re anything more than a pair of tits and a set of holes, think of this moment.” Your brows furrowed and you bit your trembling lip, trying not to cry. No matter how much you wished to deny it though, his words had you barreling toward your orgasm. “Do you understand?” He asked softly and you nodded, making his grip tighten on your neck.

“Yes.” You whispered, voice shaking.

“Good. Now I’m tired of listening to your fucking whining.” He said, pulling out, then flipping you back onto your knees and pushing your head down as he filled you again. He was chasing his orgasm now— his thrusts growing more frenzied and desperate, quiet grunts getting just a little bit louder. He brought his other hand up to join the one on your back, using it to hold himself up and keep you down at the expense of your lungs and breathing.

“God- I can feel your pathetic little fuck hole clenching down on my cock. Are you close?” All you could do to respond was make a muffled noise against the sheets. “You better not fucking come.” He spat. “You don’t want that pretty neck broken do you?” He asked, softer, making you let out a loud sob.

He was pounding you ruthlessly now, hips smacking your ass so hard you’d probably bruise. His balls hitting your clit with every thrust made you jolt each time and it was getting harder to stave off your orgasm. His movements started to slow but became rougher, almost pushing you forward from the intensity. When he finally stilled with a low groan, you whined and shifted uncomfortably. You could feel hot come filling you up with each twitch of his cock and every time he tried to push a little deeper, your back arched even more, to the point where it was starting to hurt, rather than just feel uncomfortable. He let out a heavy breath and pulled out, then sat back on his heels as he pulled your folds apart.

Hour two

(I know it’s cut kind of awkwardly but this one shot turned into 18k words so I had to cut it somewhere skdhdk)

I have some questions rq. Pls answer🙏🏻

I was maybe thinking of saying “hour 1” etc instead of “part 1” for each part since.. yk it takes place over the course of serveral hours lol. Is that dumb? Should I just keep it as “part 1”?

Also I chose the title when the fic was only the length of part 1 and im not sure if I should keep it or not so lmk if you think I should make it something that relates to the whole fic rather than just one comment in the first part lol

Taglist (join here)

@pedrisgatorade @lunyyx @faebirdie @nashja @rentaldarling @cillianscrybaby @vivvive @ceruleanrainblues @mrkdvidal1989 @brooklynscherry-z @ohmysatansstuff @d1lf-loverthinqs @butlersluvbot @mandowhatnow @baekhyunstruly @halleysc6met @babaohhhriley (didn’t let me tag ->) @deceitfuldevout @crunchsworld @bluujaiwrites @idkdudsworld @miyababby @n1ghtw1ngslver @aviamulier @xxorazz

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margaretoakgrove · 1 year ago

Text

KARL HEISENBERG CONCEPT ART

● Karl Heisenberg

↳ Heisenberg's main concept is based on Frankenstein. We wanted to create a cool gray-haired character who was a little rough around the edges. He smokes his favorite Cuban cigars.

↳ An early draft of Heisenberg's family. The biggest difference was that Heisenberg was going to be a twin and his mother was a subject for brain experiment.

● Mutated Heisenberg

↳ We went for a look that was the opposite of his human form, a giant mechanical monster. The design based on the idea that he uses scrap left scattered around the factory. He owns weapons from tanks and planes, and has mountains of scrap for his mass-produced experiments.

● Mutated Heisenberg in Detail

↳ The original design was based on the splendid royale moth caterpillar. We wanted him to look like he moved on treads and be faster than any other boss monster.

↳ Heisenberg's father was going to be the leader of the village, and the boss fight with the mechanical mutation was originally going to be with him.

↳ Concept art of a day in the life of Heisenberg. Night after night his modified henchmen dig up corpses from the graveyard to be used in his metal army.

● Soldat Eins

↳ We called these enemies "Drillman" for a long time during development because one arm was replaced with a drill. The idea for these enemies is they have a reactor inside their chests with the parasite inside that acts like an internal combustion engine. The goggles are units that Heisenberg uses to control them.

↳ Designs for various Soldat reactors, but the final design was a grotesque mechanical heart.

● Soldat Panzer

↳ We consciously created the enemies in the factory to be different so they didin't just terrify players but also created a strong sense of anticipation. The design was based on Western medieval armor and helmets.

● Soldat Jet

↳ We were really attached to the name "Jet Drill" during development. They use jets on their backs and their heads look like fighter planes. The design is similar to the horseshoe crab. We designed the front and back with different amounts of detail so the back would be particularly shocking.

● Sturm

↳ The propeller on his head is made from three chainsaw blades. He chopped his own arms off when they got in the way of the spinning blades. There was one plan to have the Sturm be Heisenberg's real father. And during development he was called "Propeller Man."

● Bridge Ruins

↳ Concept art for the bridge to Heisenberg's factory. It was initially going to be just to the side of the path leading to the Altar ruins.

● Sturm Attacks

↳ Sturm chasing Ethan down a narrow corridor, destroying everything in his way.

● Giant Cavern

↳ The concept art for Heisenberg kicking Ethan down into the hole and the giant cavern under the factory.

● Casting Machine

↳ A casting machine which uses molds to create objects made out of cast iron. This concept for a puzzle was around since early development as a way to create a key.

● Foundry

↳ This room was once only used for casting iron but Heisenberg ended up utilizing it for his experiments. This room links to the hidden engine room.

● Engine Room

↳ An engine room powered by giant pistons.

↳ Concept art for Heisenberg's factory where Ethan is chased by the Soldat series. If the reactors in their chests are destroyed then the parasite inside will attempt to escape.

● Grinder Shaft Fight

↳ A fight inside the grinder shaft. These were early designs for the Soldat Jet. We originally imagined a space where they could freely fly about.

● Heisenberg's Key

↳ We went with a design that had a powerful looking horse just like the one on Heisenberg's crest.

● Start of the Battle With Heisenberg

↳ Concept art for the flow of events leading up to the battle with Heisenberg. We pictured Ethan falling into the pit around dusk and returning from it to a dark stormy night sky. The general layout of events didin't change much from early development.

● Mutated Heisenberg-Fight 1

↳ Concept art for the boss fight with Heisenberg. Even early on in development this battle was going to commence with a self-propelled artillery. The only difference is that in the final version, Heisenberg is not defeated using falling transmission towers.

● Mutated Heisenberg-Fight 2

↳ We figured that Heisenberg's yard would be full of scrap and vehicles, which he uses during the fight.

↳ Boss fight with mutated Heisenberg where he turns into his final form.

#resident evil 8 #resident evil 8 village #resident evil village #re8 #re8 village #re village #Lord Heisenberg #Karl Heisenberg #Heisenberg

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tteokdoroki · 1 year ago

Text

˚✧₊・🍉 — SPONSOR A WIP FOR GAZA !

hello everyone!! i wanted to join the writing project ficsforgaza with the intention of raising more awareness and hopefully donations for the ongoing cause. i am a little slow on writing but hopefully this will motivate myself and others for a good cause <3!

rate: $1 USD per 100 words !

instructions: please follow this link and donate to a vetted fund of your choosing. after doing so, send an off-anon ask to myself including the following: a redacted screenshot as proof (hiding any personal information), a link to the fundraiser you’ve donated to, the name of the wip you’re sponsoring.

example: hi aali! i have donated to help mashael and her family. i would like to sponsor an alternative to grief [ screenshot showing $5 usd has been donated - equivalent to 500 words ]

i will not be publishing asks, but for transparency, will be keeping a record of evidence to send to @ficsforgaza — this is to ensure individuals are not reusing screenshots sent to myself or other writers. the wips will be updated regularly.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🍉 wips disclaimer ! - they are below the cut.

there will also be a donation goal for each wip just to ensure that I don’t get overwhelmed! i work full time and write a little slow, but the main goal is to raise awareness and donate to an important cause. there are various lengths available, subject to change but dont worry if i don’t have anything you fancy! please check out the other authors who are apart of this project!

note: minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact. sfw, nsfw and dark content is included in the wips below.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ 🍉 current wips available !

an alternative to grief; katsuki bakugou.

tags ! pro hero!bakugou, nurse!reader, strangers to lovers, dating after loss, children, therapy, grief, hurt comfort, fluff, angst, smut + part one of three.

with the sudden death of your husband, you find yourself alone with a son, angry at the world and in the corner of a therapy group specifically for grieving spouses of pro heroes. it isn’t until you lock eyes with a familiar, formidable red that you come to realise… there is happiness after death and alternatives to grief.

current word count: 7,545/10,000+

donation goal word count: 580/5,000

my doll; eijirou kirishima.

tags ! pro hero!au, soft dom!kirishima, dumbification, dollification, smut + dark content.

eijirou kirishima was born with an innate desire to protect, to give, to dominate and perhaps that is why he slowly begins to take over your life, treating you as though you’re some dainty little doll…belonging only to him.

current word count: 2,647/3,500

donation goal word count: 1,000/1,000

something i thought belonged to me; izuku midoriya.

tags ! pro hero!au, college!au, strangers to friends to lovers, coming of age, misunderstandings, fluff, angst + smut.

after abandoning your dream school to start anew and get away from your shitty ex, you adopt a stray l cat to cope with your lonesome…only to find out the pro hero exchange student next door has had the exact same idea.

current word count: 134/15,000+

donation goal word count: 2240/5,000

swingsets; yuuji itadori.

tags ! college!au, small town!au, summer romance, coming of age, first loves, self discovery, misunderstandings, fluff, angst + smut, part one of many.

everyone always says you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. but life moves quick and yuuji itadori has only one year left of his degree to figure out what it is that he wants. making it big in the big city of tokyo isn’t all what it’s cut out to be, so he decides to return to his roots, and indirectly, return to you. OR a jjk small town!au where each sorry connects to another. this is the story of yuuji itadori, reconnecting with his first love.

current word count: 0/20,000+

donation goal word count: 1820/5,000

other ways to help can be found here and here.

#fics for gaza #tteokdoroki #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing

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depressopax · 11 months ago

Note

Hello!! I cannot get enough of your Dale Cooper fics and i was wondering if could request a little something? I was thinking either they/them or ftm reader (your choice) that is sharing a bed with Cooper at the Great Northern. They are partners who have been pining after each other for a while now, and reader ends up having a wet dream while laying next to him. Maybe Cooper wakes them up and as they are fumble around trying to apologize, he confesses his crush? It could lead to soft smut or even something more desperate between the two.

Im just spitballing here, i just can't stop thinking about Dale sitting all flustered next to his partner in bed😭

Thank you!!!

Hi there anon! Thank you for your request, and I'm sorry it took me so long to write this! It's been a while, but if you see this - I hope you like it! Have a good day <3

Pairing: Dale Cooper x gender neutral reader Genre: Smut & fluff Warning(s): Smut BUT with plot, cuss words, Dale being a slut for reader, sexual tension. Reader is gender-neutral (they/them pronouns!) Words: 1.6k Summary: Dale’s reaction to reader having a wet dream about him. English is not my main language, if I make any spelling mistakes please let me know so I can improve my writing! <3 || AO3 link || Masterlist || Request ||

Dreams come true

Fandom - Twin Peaks

Dale Cooper x gn!reader

“Dale…”

He’s just lying there on the double bed, afraid to move a muscle in case you wake up. It feels like the moans are filling the room. It’s hard to do anything - think, move, fall back asleep. He’s relieved the room is so dark and hides the fact he’s a blushing mess.

“Dale…” you murmur, your sleepy voice laced in arousal. In the dream, you’re making out. He’s touching you in all the right places, causing your body to arch up into his palm, desperate for more. More, Dale…

Whilst you’re in pure heaven, the sleep occupied by the wet dream, Cooper feels like he’s stuck in a nightmare. You’re dreaming of him and moaning his name. He’s the reason you’re visibly turned on right now, and it drives him crazy. Yet, there’s nothing he can do, but listen…

His mind is torn between Just wake them up - and let them dream for a bit more…

Yesterday, the two of you arrived at the Town of Twin Peaks. Entering the Great Northern caused you to gasp, never having been at a fancy hotel like this before - for free. Being a special agent has it’s perks sometimes. Dale chuckled.

“Hey… You’re gonna catch flies if you keep your mouth open like that.”

You were quick to close your mouth, which you had not realized was hanging open from awe.

“Shut up, Coop.” you had replied with a grin, nudging him to the side. Finding the reception desk took a while, both of you were too impressed with the hotel, and even got lost whilst exploring the big lobby. The receptionist greeted you with a kind smile and Cooper talked for the both of you.

You are co-workers, both part of the FBI and currently working on the complex Laura Palmer case.

“Ah, Mr. Cooper. I’m very sorry, but it seems like the booking is for one room only.” Your heart had stopped momentarily. “We are very sorry, and will fix you another room by tomorrow. Would sharing rooms be okay for the two of you, only for tonight?”

Dale looked at you, and if you saw it right, he was flustered too.

“Yea. That’s fine.” you had replied, with a dry voice.

Next shock came once settled in the fancy room, decorated with dark tree furnitures, red rugs and armchairs, and a king sized bed in the middle. Double bed.

“I uhh… I can sleep on the floor, if you want.” Dale offered. There was nothing more you wanted than to tell him it was ok, and that you could share bed. But the look on his face, and the confusing feelings within you made you answer without thinking twice: “Yea. That’d be great.”

“So.. Let’s leave the bags here and head down to the police station, yea?” Dale desperately tried changing subjects, something you were relieved over.

“Yes, let’s go.”

By the end of the day, and after dinner at a cozy café called Double R Diner, you arrived at the hotel room.

“That was some damn good coffee!”

You couldn’t help but find Dale’s enthusiasm adorable, loving the way his dark eyes light up whenever he speaks about something he’s passionate about.

“You and your coffee.” you shook your head and he chuckled.

“I don’t know… You seemed to like it, too! And I’m not forgiving you for stealing a bite of my cherry pie!”

“It was your second slice! And I didn’t know you’d return from the bathroom so damn quickly!”

“I caught you red handed!”

“What are you gonna do about it, Coop?” you cooed. His face heated up and he let out a nervous laughter.

“That’s the question, huh?” He swallowed hard. Fuck, why do they make me so nervous? His gaze landed on the smile on your lips. God, their lips look so soft.

“Coop?” your voice woke him from the trance.

“Sorry. I’m tired.” his hands were shaking as he unlocked the door to the hotel room, and he hoped you didn't notice. But you did.

So came the night. You sat up in bed and watched Dale twist and turn on the couch, with a blanket thrown over him.

“Coop?”

“Hmm?” He looked at you, trying to not look down at that adorable pajamas you were wearing. Be a gentleman. He thought, whilst fighting the complicated feelings within.

“Are you alright over there?”

“Yea.” A fake smile. The bed looks so comfortable.

You sighed.

“Dale. This is ridiculous. We’re both grown-ups. I’m sure we can share a bed.”

His heart skipped a beat. Shit, shit, shit.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You could never make me uncomfortable.” And you meant it. Besides, the thought of sleeping next to him made your body heat up. As he finally climbed up in the king sized bed next to you, both your hearts beat in union, unaware of the effect you had on each other.

“Big day ahead of us tomorrow.”

“Yea. This case is tricky.” Dale frowned.

“Nothing we can’t solve. Together.”

The last part almost came out like a whisper. Dale smiled in reply.

“Together.”

Only two hours later, he lies wide awake. So much for a good night's sleep. He clutches the blanket tighter around him, as if trying to hide the growing erection from his own gaze. Just wake them up.

“Fuck…” you murmur, and turn around in sleep. You turn sideways, now facing him. Oh god. Your lips slightly parted, soft moans escaping your mouth. Dale stares in awe. He feels like a fucking creep, but oh, you look so damn beautiful. The blanket covering your body moves with the rise and falls of your chest. His gaze wanders down. He wonders if you’re wet, from thinking of him. If the blanket makes your body warm and sweaty. He wonders… He sits up quickly. I can’t do this. Fuck.

Dale thinks he’s being quiet, that you’re a heavy sleeper. But the sound of him moving makes you blink your eyes open.

“Coop?” your voice is hoarse from sleep, confusion lacing it.

He sits on the side of the bed, his feets on the floor, and hands resting in his lap.

What is… You blush up. Shit. The dream. Wet dream. Did he hear it? You feel like sinking into the floor from humiliation. Fuck fuck, fuck!

Dale doesn’t turn around, despite hearing your voice. So soft, so sleepy.

“I’m sorry…” you whisper. Covering your face in your palms, you try gathering your thoughts. Your body still feels warm, sweaty and tingly, down there. Fuck. “Sorry.”

You repeat, and this time, Dale turns around. A twinge of anxiety courses through him when he sees you. You look so embarrassed, so guilty.

“Hey… Hey…”

His voice is soft now. He turns his body around to face you. He hopes you won’t notice the bulge through the thin fabric of his pajama pants. With a gentle yet firm movement, he grabs your hands and pulls them away, revealing your red face to him. His soft brown eyes gazes into yours and it feels like the world stops spinning. He’s so damn beautiful. You wish you could trace your fingers over that sharp jawline, and feel his lips all over you.

“Don’t say sorry. Alright? You have nothing to be sorry about, dear.”

You believe him. He’s always honest, even when you wish he weren’t. But this time, it feels good. The only sound in the room is the ticking clock on the wall, and the mangled breaths from you and Dale.

“You’re beautiful.” he murmurs. The shock on your face quickly turns into admiration.

“So are you.”

“And… I’m honored to be part of your dreams. Especially those dreams.” he chuckles, and a smile spreads across your face. It warms his heart. “I like you, a lot.”

“Dale, I swear to god… If I’m still dreaming-”

His lips press against yours. They feel soft and smooth - perfect - against yours. Like they were meant to be together.

“You’re not dreaming.” to prove his point further, he pinches your cheek. You giggle and pinch his nose back. “...And I’m not dreaming either. That’s good.”

You lean forward again, feeling his smile against your lips as you kiss again. This time, you slip your tongue in his mouth. A muffled moan escapes his lips, and you feel more hot and bothered than before. This isn’t a dream. It was, but now it’s reality. You cup Dale’s face and bring him down with you when lying in bed. He props himself up, on top of you, one elbow on each side of you.

“I like you too, by the way.” you whisper. Dale looks at you with heavy lid eyes. He looks so damn dreamy.

“I’m glad.” The next kiss is more demanding, and he presses his body down against yours. Now, you feel the bulge press against your lower abdomen, and it makes you gasp.

“Sorry…” he whispers.

“Don’t say sorry, alright?” You say, repeating his words. He chuckles and looks at you with admiration. But he also looks shy.

“Can I touch you?” he asks hoarsely, almost pleading to feel you. All of you.

“Please.”

He pulls the covers from your body, and his hands explore your body, the touch feather light. Everywhere. Every inch. When his hand slides into your pants, and down to your groin, you moan his name softly.

“Dale…” you gasp.

“I’m here, dear. And I’m not going anywhere.”

With that, he trails wet kisses down your body, and everything else fades. Only this time, it’s real.

Some dreams do come true.

ANDDDD there we go! My first fic in like two months YAY Thank you all for supporting me and for waking my account up from the dead with your kind words and fun requests LOL <3 If you liked this, feel free to reblog and comment! Love y'all

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towerofsouls · 6 months ago

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Hi!! my name is almond/rodger and i use he/him!

this blog is a more organized place for me to put anything related to my au, tower of souls :] (not a roleplay blog, btw.)

feel free to ask anything about the AU! I won't be talking about spoilers yet, so i won't be talking very much about Dandy or Astro, but the main storyline will be revealed soon. Ill most likely answer any questions about any other characters.

Send anything tower of souls related here or to my main blog, @walnutcookie, either works X]

pfp and header made by @cheeseinthesea

tag guide:

#tos art - "canon" TOS art, aka anything drawn by me

#tos ref - canon designs for all of the toons

#tos info - posts containing information about the au itself

#tos ask - asks sent relating to tos lore or characters

#tos fanart - any fanart im either tagged in or is sent to me through asks

#tos oc - any oc posts that im either tagged in or are sent to me through asks

#tos shitpost - silly, un-serious stuff i post

#tos behind the scenes - Extra info about the au

#almond ask - asks not tos related

Characters mentioned in posts will have their names tagged as well if youd like to filter for those (ex: "#dandy" or "#astro")

Triggers will be tagged as "#[trigger]" and "tw [trigger]". This blog includes dark subjects such as death and may feature cartoon gore!

Note that i am a minor, and uncomfortable with suggestive/suicidal topics. Please don't send me asks relating to these things.

Q&A:

Q: "What's the lore?"

A: the full lore hasn't been revealed yet - the entire story is written out, but i'm still in the process of writing it down in a cohesive manner. Any information/lore can be found in the #tos info tag.

Q: "Can I help?"

A: sorry, this is a hobby/personal project of mine, and for this AU, i would rather work on it by myself. feel free to make your own spinoff aus or ocs and such though if you have your own ideas!! :]

Q: "Can I make fanart/writing?"

A: absolutely, go wild! id love to see anything involving the tos au, so do whatever youd like with it, make your own spinoff au even, just credit me please! tell me if you do so i can comment and share it!!! My only request is that you dont make suggestive/nsfw art with them ^^'

Also wanted to mention that im fine with people redesigning/making headcanon designs the characters ive already designed X]

Q: "Can I make my OCs in the au?"

A: hell yeah!! please tell me id LOVE to see it!!!!! go wild be creative!! you dont even have to make them accurate i dont mind

Q: "Are any ships canon?"

A: nope, most of the relationships are intentionally left vague, so feel free to interpret them as platonic/familial/romantic/however youd like! (i am NOT okay with proships though, which means no goob x scraps, ginger x cosmo, or any ships involving toodles and pebble. you will be blocked instantly.)

Q: "Why is it called Tower of Souls?"

A: aha... funny thing about that, i changed the lore a bunch after finally figuring out a name for the au. the toons' souls were meant to be linked in the old lore, but as of now they dont even have souls... whoops!!! its become known as the tower of souls au though so i feel like itd be hard to change it. i mean its still a tower theres just no souls in it

#tos art #tos info #tos ask #tos fanart #tos oc #tos shitpost #tos ref #almond ask #tos behind the scenes

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mediumgayitalian · 1 month ago

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wip wednesday poll mwah

as per request i will be putting the snippets & links BEFORE the poll so yall actually read them. also, full stop, i have several 12 hour shifts this week, so wip wednesday may get postponed a little. but it shall happen!!

it is time at the moment to choose one of five several wips for me to update tomorrow. will i 100% listen to democracy? we shall see. is there a chance i leave it to the last minute and get too tired to write anything but a 100 ways? you betcha. but regardless: the poll will immediately succeed this message. then, i will link previous iterations of each wip AND a small snippet of what i currently have for the update. i will work on and post this TOMORROW. read snippets before u vote. mwah. love u.

naomi fic: art more art 1 2 3

The baby does not scream. He does not cry. He does not even blink, for a moment, for a heart-stopping minute; he does not even move.

This is what the nurses tell her, anyway.

-- celestial blue --

-- sky blue --

-- and Naomi gasps, struck breathless. He is silent. He is open. He is trusting, tiny and helpless, but quiet in her arms, against her chest.

"You and me," she whispers, tucking her baby son against her chest, against her slowly beating heart, "you and me, sheer fuckin' Will."

divorce fic: 1

Top choyses: - Bekendorf (nice) - Clarees (proteks me maybe) - Carter (plays soker with me) - Silena (pretty) - Annabeth (frend) - NOT ellis (anoying)

"Cass," he calls, waiting for the sound of a snapped root and her followed yes, firefly? "Which summer campers are the least annoying? Nobody like Michael."

She ponders that question for a good moment. Will watches several different expressions morph across her face.

"...Well," she says, biting her lip to hide her smile, "it might help if I knew what you'd been scribbling away at for the last hour."

pomegranate au: 1 2 (*snippet once again subject to change; i have like 3000 words written that i am not vibing with so i might need to restart)

In his dream, they are in Ephyra. Will stoops low over a flowering bush in a meadow between two orchards, and Nico stands, hair curling in the misting humidity, watching him.

He looks good in red.

He steps, once, towards him.

He does not move.

Rain drips, stinging, into his eyes.

Nico reaches out. There is stone, between them, invisible, or at least it feels like there is.

scientific method fic: prologue 1

———

Step Two: Research

———

And then there is the slow blink of brown eyes.

"Hi," Will says.

Cecil screams at the top of his lungs.

"Your -- your face," he wheezes, having no energy to dodge the kick Cecil aims for his ribs. "Oh my gods, your soul left your body --"

"I hate you."

"Oh my gods --"

"Genuinely. Die."

"It doesn't sting. Just know that when I get you, there will be no mercy involved."

"Whatever." Will pouts. Cecil sighs. "Yes, I love you, you rat bastard."

"Excellent. Hey, subject change -- have you ever died before?"

road trip au: 1 2 3 4

Nico watches him, quietly.

Will pretends he doesn't.

But it is nice, this one time. To watch the world whir by outside the rolled-down windows.

pillow princess: 1 2 3

The first time they had sex, they were young, and stupid, and Will tried so hard to be perfect that he ruptured his fucking airway.

It was really fucking scary.

And then, unfortunately for his ego and reputation, it was really fucking funny.

The second time was a little less harrowing. Nico was terrified and wouldn't let his dick anywhere near Will's mouth, but they figured it out, anyway, put hesitant hands to good use and kissed until their lips bruised purple and broke apart laughing, or gasping, or breathing each other's air, pressed so close their skin stuck together.

Nico loved him, then. Although he was too chickenshit to say it. But Will didn't go anywhere, and showed up, the next night, pajamas in a plastic grocery bag, face as red as the setting sun, mouth set and eyes determined and wanting, wanting, wanting.

There is a haziness, now, in this moment, in this strange bed.

"Will," he manages, choked, and it spurs his boyfriend on, scrubs tightening over his back, blond eyebrows knitting in concentration.

Nico knows the contraction of Will's throat almost as well as the width of his palm; Will has something of an oral fixation, always has, and likes his mouth on Nico's skin, his tongue, his teeth. He holds his own hair back in lieu of Nico's near-paralysis and bobs up and down, easy, gag reflex long forgotten, swirling his tongue around the blunt head and dragging his spit-slick gold stud down the vein of Nico's shaft, slow, sultry. Nico watches almost above his own body, watches his muscles strain and twitch, as if they want to move, watches Will brace his free hand on Nico's thigh, fingers drawing closer, closer to his base, to his balls. Every time Will pulls up for air -- not often, his musician lungs had to be put to some use, he likes to joke -- there is the barest of flashes to his mouth, the tiniest curve of his little smirk. Nico knows he likes it, the lightheadedness he gets, the darkened vision. The weight of something heavy on his tongue, the ease in which Nico crumples, in which the slow boiling heat of Will's mouth can make Nico hard even in memory.

piercings: 1

It is relieving, as it always is, when spring crests into summer, when the days stretch, and the campers come in swathes, experienced leaders with them. Will's cheeks hurt from his grinning, from old friends home again, and there is phantom ache in the small of his back from the first week of several where he is not bent over a desk, finishing paperwork until the owls quiet, or hunched over a mortar and pestle, desperately making salves to meet demand.

The air feels fresher, almost.

"Will! Will! Are you looking! Are you looking!"

"One hundred percent!" Will calls, smiling at his baby sister.

Gracie cheers, and Will's heart aches, and he glances over, just to Gracie's left. Nico is there, staring, already, smile soft and wry, sword loose in his hands. Will ducks his head, quickly, hoping his hair covers his burning ears, and pretends to write something in his notebook.

He can hear Nico's snort from the stands.

"Alright," he hears next, voice dropped, now, in that special tone he uses with the kids, teasing and challenging and simmering excitement wrapped in one. Like an uncle with a secret, like a horribly fibbing older brother. "You ready, kid?"

"Ready!" Gracie shouts. Even Will winces at the volume.

first time: 1

They lie in past breakfast. There is banging at the door -- a sibling, probably -- but they ignore it, and Will burrows into Nico's neck, sighing, and Nico tightens his arms. He buries his nose in Will's hair, inhaling. He smells good, still. And there is a new smell, just slightly, that Nico probably shouldn't like as much as he does, but he doesn't care; Will smells like Nico, and like short breaths and warm skin. Like sex, just slightly. Just barely.

"Class," Will exhales, kissing at his neck, "you can't skip out again."

Nico sighs, wrapping a strand of blond hair around his finger. "Sure I can. What are they gonna do? Fire me?"

"Put you on lava dishes for a month, fool."

Nico tilts his head up and waits, until his eyes go big, until they blink, blink, blink. And then he drops down and kisses him, sighing, again, into his mouth, into the movement of their lips, against each other.

"Worth it."

"Not worth it."

But he's breathy, when he says it. Unconvincing.

"Will, I swear to the gods!"

The knocking comes around again. It is Kayla, this time, and it is followed by the unmistakable thunk of an arrowhead on a stone door. Will groans, and mutters something about bratty sisters and useless campers who would die by sepsis from a papercut and deserve it, and starts pulling away. Nico, who is practically an adult, manages not to whine out loud and yank him closer.

"C'mon," Will says softly, tugging him along. There is a smile, barely, at the corner of his mouth, and that draws Nico up more than anything; his heart gallops, and he tracks the line of red across Will's nose, the far-away, memory-rich look in his eyes. Desperately, Nico hopes he's thinking of him. Embarrassingly, he's convinced he is. "Let's go."

#late as all fuck whoops sorry #wip wednesday #wip wednesday poll #poll

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bogusavathepit · 10 months ago

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(S4) ASoIaF "Career": Maester

this career is a very simple, nonactive one meant to assist in any ASoIaF playthroughs people have, therefore it's pretty superficial. It's more a placeholder for immersion.

DESCRIPTION

As the order of scholars, healers, messengers, and natural philosophers, maesters educate new students at the Citadel of in Oldtown, a city in the Reach. House Hightower was integral in the Citadel's foundation, and continues to patronize the order. The Citadel is also financed by the lords who pay for having a maester in their service, and from certain taxes that it collects at Oldtown.

As advisers to the Westerosi nobility, the maesters have largely supplanted the Alchemists' Guild. They are sometimes called "the knights of the mind." Some may never become an official maester or even an acolyte!

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Levels

"Novice": You are a new students and have begun your education at the Citadel. Most acolytes will treat you as if you have little mindpower, and if you violate the rules of the Citadel, a maester order you to be confined to your rooms by the maesters. You may receive a more physical punishment, such as if you steal from the kitchens, a rector might put you in stocks at the Seneschal's Court, where acolytes may throw rotten vegetables at you. Act smart! To officially become an acolyte, you must earn a link for your chain by going before an archmaester to demonstrate your knowledge. If the archmaester judges your knowledge to be proficient, they will award you with a link of a metal reflecting the subject.

“Acolyte”: You have earned your first link for your chain! You can train at letters at the Scribe's Hearth, and an Oldtowner may hire you to read their letters or write their wills. When you complete your training and are prepared to take your vows to become a maester, you will put in a black-dark room with one of the Citadel's glass candles made of razor-sharp dragonglass. You must stay in that room for the entire night in darkness, unless he is able to light the candle.

Branches

"Maesters": Scholars and healers who have completed their training at the Citadel. They can be sent by the Citadel to serve at the holding of a lord throughout the Seven Kingdoms. A lord has to pay the Citadel for a maester's service, and smallfolk believe that maesters are unwilling to help them. Maesters are only found in castles; if a lord does not have a maester in his service, he is seen as unimportant. They have vowed to hold no lands or lordships, and to be celibate. Maesters wear a collar, which is supposed to remind him of the realm they serve. When they complete their education and take their vows, a maester puts aside their House name. Although they are supposed to be loyal to the seat to which they are assigned, regardless of the changes in control of that holding, old allegiances or loyalties might continue linger.

"Archmaesters": Maesters who have demonstrated mastery of a particular subject. They receive a mask, ring, and rod in the metal corresponding to the link of the maester's chain which signifies their expertise on the topic. Archmaesters teach the students at the Citadel in their subject of expertise, and they judge whether a novice or an acolyte has shown enough knowledge on their subject to receive a link for their chain. They have the right to sit on the Conclave, a council which elects the Grand Maester and determines when the seasons change. Although the Conclave puts effort into demonstrating their consideration of ability before birth, this is generally a pretense, as family status often affects their final choice for Grand Maester. The meetings of the Conclave are conducted behind closed doors at the Citadel. Each archmaester is said to carry a heavy, black iron key that will open most of the doors in the Citadel. They keep them close on their person, or hide them well.

"The Grand Maester": The office of Grand Maester was created in 5 AC by Aegon I Targaryen, who asked for an archmaester to advise him on governing the Seven Kingdoms. Sworn to serve the whole realm, the Grand Maester sits on the monarch's small council and acts as one of the royal advisers. As the Citadel's representative at the royal court of the monarch on the Iron Throne the Grand Maester is elected by the Conclave, and only the Conclave can unmake them again, although several Grand Maesters have died violently. The Grand Maester wears many interwoven maester chains to indicate their high office, but these do not reflect their true studies. Gems are woven into the chains.

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Go Check it out or Download

#sims 4 career #sims 4 #s4 #ts4 #the sims 4 #asoiaf #sims 4 asoiaf #asoiaf maesters #maesters

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itstheendofthegoddamnworld · 10 months ago

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Swallowed Whole by The Flame (Messmer the Impaler x Tarnished! Reader) 7

MASTERLIST

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Summary: In the Keep now as a guest rather than a prisoner, the Tarnished gets used to her new surroundings.

A/N: Tarnished had the last laugh in the last chapter, and Messmer is all the more grumpy about it. Tarnished also really loves calling Messmer 'My Lord' as a mocking title.

A03 link

Chapter 7: Vindication

"Impressive, the stab wound has healed remarkably!"

Remarkable, you say? Lowering your shirt as Sir Aldwin finishes assessing your injuries. Your body feels energised and rejuvenated once you've awoken by the golden site of grace, embraced by its warmth, only for the reality of being back to hit you in the face. It was always a constant disappointment.

Aldwin is as fascinated in your revival as are Messmer's men: calling it some fate from the Greater Will. You called it sheer humiliation.

"This process... tell me about it." Aldwin is ever more curious about the ways of unnatural order. Something flashes in your waking mind, as clear as a living dream. Of a memory you cannot tell if it belonged to you, holding an ornate sword, covered in someone's blood or your own. Experiencing dying for the first time. Waking up in a place, dark and cold, only just remembering your name.

You shudder, trying to think of something else. "I'm uncertain I could explain it all to you, Aldwin. It's... still so unfamiliar to me. Why I was chosen." You hold out your hands, staring deep and hard. These hands, this body, this is not your first life. You would need answers, and the curiosity of walking past the large specimen storehouse piques your interest.

Aldwin seems disappointed but he seems to understand. "He who doesn't fear death shall only have to die once. I have seen it many times in the dying." His words carry a sense of acceptance, though you cannot think of dying over and over again the same way. It is not the acceptance of it that men dread, but its arrival.

"Aldwin, I must ask you something." You bring the Nightfolk's attention back after changing the subject quickly. "The storehouse, who uses it?"

"Well, it is rather a place of collection that his Lord uses for gathering everything known: the history, the arts, culture. It has become his very own gallery."

"And does he... allow anyone else to use it?"

Aldwin seems confused by your question before he pieces it together. "Ah, well, it would be odd if it was not used. Many in his Lord's libraries pour into the histories, using that knowledge to piece a clearer timeline." He pauses, eyeing you carefully, "Why do you ask?"

"No reason."

Before the Nightfolk can answer any more, there is a growing sound of heavy armour approaching. You're already looking to the doors when you see who comes around the corner, a black knight, armour gleaming like Obsidian, Messmer's personal guard has come to greet you.

"Lady Tarnished," His voice is muffled behind the heavy imposing helmet, covering the entirety of his face, "Lord Messmer has asked that I show you to your apartments."

You look to Aldwin, before facing the black knight once again. You're surprised to hear of your new title, questioning to yourself whether it was something the staff and knights had come up with or something higher up ordered them to address you by. "So, I'm not bound to that cell anymore?"

"Nay, milady. His Lord has also asked that a tour of the Keep is given."

You say your goodbyes to Aldwin, relieved he cannot ask more about your whole life and death process, following grudgingly behind the knight. You pass many of those under Messmer's control, all willing soldiers ready to die for his honour. It's amazing and chilling to see the amount of power one can hold, but also the loyalty they have for him.

You pass by those who are still surprised their Lord has given you his protection. They whisper as they pass you in corridors: a Tarnished who came back from the dead. It's rather comical to hear, for them to create their theories and marvel as you go past. Some are still hesitant around you, others are cold and look through you, as if you don't exist in your eyes. A few of Messmer's staff have grown to give you a bit more respect.

When you reach the highest of the towers, towards the Keep's chambers, does it dawn on you that it would only be you and Messmer in this part since it was the royal apartments, and though you knew you were not part of some royal branch, this was all very unfamiliar to you.

Your apartments were certainly something to marvel at; a canopied bed was big enough to fit maybe five of you, decorated with embroidered cushions and sheets of a deep rich red hue. A roaring fire hit you in contrast to the coolness of the air outside. Intricate tapestries decorated the walls, of faces you didn't recognise, others, from their red hair were obvious. There, in the middle of the mantle above the flames, was a portrait of Marika, holding in her arms the same clothed babe, this time it was obvious from the details that there were two tiny serpent heads poking out surrounding the babe.

A vanity was present beside a desk by the stained-glass windows, oddly barred from the outside with spikes not allowing anyone to crack them wider than a few inches. There had been a chest opened with a variety of clothes already out for you to touch and gawk at. It had been far grander than you had expected, far better of a place than sleeping in the mud and rain, fearing to catch a chill.

Messmer had provided you with maids-in-waiting, women of different ages who all curtsied as you greeted them. How odd, indeed.

Turning to the guard, still hovering in the doorway to your room, you asked. "This is all been provided to me by his Lord?"

"His Lord did not say otherwise." The guard muttered curtly, and before you could have more of a chance to get used to your room and look around, you were being whisked away, back down the tower and into the main part of the keep to be shown around. By the time it was almost over, you felt exhausted, not realising the hunger gnawing at your stomach. You couldn't remember the last time you had eaten something properly, but you did not doubt that Messmer's staff would provide some proper meals for you.

The tour was not quite over, until the final part you had been very excited to see appeared to you.

The high walls, decorated with thousands of books, and artefacts, were a sea in your vision, clear and bright. You could sense if you didn't have to return to your chambers, you would spend days here, looking at every book if you could and finding more information for you to take in.

Light poured through, casting bright streaks of light to come through like the heavens had opened and poured through. It was a hearth of endless knowledge, stored in what you thought was maybe one of the best citadels you had come across.

Marvelling silently to yourself, you could not help but have to look to every section as quickly as you could, trying to best believe where you would begin in your pursuit for knowledge, when something, or rather someone caught your eye. Standing in the corner by piles of books towering high, was an armoured man, his silver-white long beard a familiar sight to you.

"Righteous Tarnished, what brings you here?"

"I could ask the same for you, Sir Ansbach. How did you find your way here?" You're wary of how he's been allowed to step foot through the Keep without all of Messmer's soldiers on him. Surely, there has to be some misunderstanding?

"Kindly Miquella's charm has worn off from me. I have seen through his ways." He says earnestly.

"What insight of Lady Leda do you have?"

"She schemes and her blind love for Miquella has set her astray. It did the same to me, blinding me to his charm. Truly, there is nothing so Kindly about him. He's a monster. It is why I have come to Messmer not only for his aid but to seek shelter. There will be no doubt Leda and the others will hear of my betrayal."

You feel your eyeball twitch involuntarily at the mention of seeking shelter. "You mean Messmer handed it to you willingly?"

"Yes, did he do the same for you?"

"No, no he did not." Of course, he didn't.

"Ah, what challenge did you have to do to prove your worth?"

"By bringing Redmane Freyja's head."

Ansbach is silent by this, but when he responds, his voice wavers, "Ah, I see. A true Redmane, to the very end." He is resolute in his decisions, you note. "Then we are both running from the injustices of this world. I stand as your ally through and through, Tarnished."

You don't give much to rethink Ansbach's words, as you're stalking back to your chambers in a huff. Your cheeks are hot in rage as you storm into your apartments, dismissing the maids there. You look out the window, to see it is already dark. Exhaustion has claimed you, and when you expect to go to your new bed, you find sitting on the desk is a meal, still steaming with heat.

It's a simple bowl of something that looks like stewed chicken in a sauce with a small cut of bread freshly prepared. Eyeing it cautiously, your hunger betrays you before you can believe it was all to have you poisoned, grabbing the spoon and delving into the meal. You come to realise it's chicken stewed in an ale sauce. You can taste other ingredients like pepper, ginger, breadcrumbs and even saffron. The bread is not stale or covered in mould, and you appreciate the warmth that comes from it, hinting that it had just come fresh out of the oven. You also find in the room two pitchers, one full of fresh water, the other with wine.

You don't waste time after finishing your meal to grab a glass and delve into drinking the water first, two glasses of it before you drink the red wine, full of body and richness. It hits your tongue with unexpectedness. It tastes almost familiar to you, though you can't quite place when or how you tasted wine that belonged to the royal house.

Now that you've eaten, you can finally think back to Sir Ansbach's words, thinking to the storehouse, but most importantly, to Messmer. It was only did you realised since your revival, that you had not spotted him for a full day, being whisked away to the infirmary rather than to be seen by him again. Had he been avoiding you since you bested him at his own game?

You look at the portrait of Marika and a baby Messmer in her arms. It seems through all his isolation, he has few allies and fewer allies. He is a lonely demigod, but a man still is part of him. All men need companionship, no matter how small. You thought, dressing in a simple white shift dress as you got into bed, praying that whatever you found in the darkness of your dreams, awaited you was finally peace.

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

It is maybe the first time in what feels like forever that you get the first night of unbroken sleep. A dreamless sleep is however all you need to feel alive. Dawn rises as do you, triggering the door to your chambers to be rudely opened, pouring in are your new handmaidens who come, already pulling back the curtains as they present you with a flurry of things: clothes to wear for today, a suggestion of a bath, and jewels that would suit you well. The bombardment of options is so much that you opt firstly for a bath, which is given quickly when they go back and forth providing already hot steamy water.

Your private tub is smaller than the one in the bathhouse and you're thankful for it, for it gives you your privacy away from those as you scrub yourself and clean your hair. When you're dried and dressed in a simple cotton shift, the maids once again present you with many options for clothing, and it is only when you cast your eye on them, that you come to realise something.

"Is there anything else here than dresses?"

One of the maids, younger than you eyes the eldest, unsure how to answer. "My lady," the eldest responds, "We were given direct orders that these were what were to be provided to you-"

"Ordered you say? By whom?" You already know by who, but it twists in your gut and anger rises in your throat.

"Lord Messmer had asked we provide you a ... fitting selection of dresses that would be appropriate for you."

You scowl at all the garments, all oddly enough differing shades of red. Is this some kind of twisted joke to him? You seethe, telling yourself the next time you see him, you will give him a piece of your mind. You cross your arms like a child having a mild tantrum. "I refuse to wear them."

"My Lady-"

"If Messmer wishes for me to play dress up, he can think otherwise. I require trousers, boots and a decent tunic instead."

The maids give one another side-eye glances, bowing quickly before some go on the hunt for your request. It takes some time before they find what you ask for: some of the knights had some spare which you're thankful for, however, the tunic they do find had to be brightly coloured crimson. You huff through it all but finally dress, more comfortable than you would've been in silk dresses.

"Where is Lord Messmer?" If he wishes to play games so early this morning, you're not going to stop yourself from competing against him.

"His Lord is breaking his fast privately this morning, my Lady. We shall bring you to the solace where you may have yours."

You silently grumble, being led into another isolating room, windows barred against the stained-glass windows, with a hint of peppermint heavy in the air. You sit as you're presented with an array of dishes: dried berries with apples, salted cod and rye, bacon and sausages spiced with something that stings your nostrils, and a cup of what you're told is nettle tea.

You begin with the fruits, which are sweet on your tongue and better than anything you have before. The sausages entice you as you pluck one and cut into it, where the smell is stronger. Curiously biting into it, you're surprised by its almost sweet taste, with a hint of heat that makes you nearly cough. You wash it down with the tea as you eat some bacon and bread too, before you are done.

Your morning has you continuing your exploration of the keep, certainly aware you're not wandering alone, for you hear the heavy thuds that move in time with your footsteps. You look back a few times, eyeing the fire knight who seems just five paces behind, following intently and keeping an eye on you. It had you greatly irritated, trying to lose track of him but to no avail.

It is only when you come outside to the training yard that your sights are taken by what has gathered in front of you.

Before you, Messmer's soldiers train, the clanging of swords, some metal and wood, clash with one another. You take in those of a lower rank, trainees who fight one another as they're taught the best stances and positions. Those of more experience duel with the intent of knocking their opponent to the ground. It is far more interesting to see what is indoors, and you find yourself stepping closer and closer to the ring that has formed around one certain fight.

A soldier wielding a wooden spear and shield is knocked onto his back like a turtle, struggling to get up from the weight of the shield, when his opponent launches on him, triumphantly holding the tip of his sword under his chin. "You'd be dead." You hear from the victor, his voice muffled yet there is a charm as those around him cheer him on. The one who lost gets picked back up as he slinks away, the cockiness of the victor is embued in him.

"Who dares best me I wonder? Any one of you fools brave enough to fight me?"

"I will."

Heads turn as you step into the middle, and whispers can be heard as some aren't certain what to do with you. Should they allow someone from outside to train with them? It is only when you hear amongst the chatter the taunting laughter of the soldier in front. "You? Trust me, Tarnished, I wouldn't wish to have you spilling your guts all over the courtyard." There is some quiet laughter amongst some of the soldiers, but you pay them no attention.

"Oh, no need to fret. I'm feeling the need to knock some teeth in." You're looking at your selection of weapons, realising all of them are wooden props. Great, all the more to enjoy whacking than slicing. You pick a wooden sword, light in its hold, it's shorter than your nagakiba, but it will still be of some use to you.

You both get into your positions, knees slightly bent, torsos upright and rigid as you await him to swing first. He is cocky and does so, charging you as you swiftly dodge out his way, slapping him as he passes across his lower back. He grunts, rage building as he goes to attack again, this time you block as you push him back, jabbing another time just below his armpit in the part where armour is not covering him.

"My, did you have a heavy breakfast?" You taunt, smiling throughout. It's only now that you're enjoying this, the thrill of not having to strain yourself, and you feel you could taunt them forever. These are Messmer's men, loyal, but in need of good training. What would they do if you or another Tarnished were in the field to meet them? A warrior with years of experience compared to a page.

Though this opponent is quick and skillful, he is full of rage, one that could evenly match the raging flames Messmer channels. The soldier cries out as he lunges again, taking a hit whilst you're distracted, and you give him the benefit of the doubt, it did hurt. You copy by getting him by the shoulder blades, hearing a crunch of your sword as it almost snaps from how hard you hit him. It's enough to have him stagger forwards to his knees, as you stand over him.

"That was easier than I expected-"

You see the glimpse of his vicious grin through the visors of his helmet, so fast does he move and have you believe it's all done that you only feel the connection of his fist right into your nose. You nearly fly backwards, holding what you believe is your now broken nose, feeling the heavy pouring of something drip down your lips.

You spit in disgust, hissing as you now hold the offensive, charging as he only gets up in time before you're swinging down on him. One, two, three, he tries to block, but you're angrier, blood boiling as you kick him in the stomach back. It's not foul play you assume, for no one calls out that you just cheated. The crowd around you is larger, consuming you as you feel as if you're being engulfed in an oven from the pure heat despite being outside.

It rages like a storm, your head hurts, your nose too, but you continue to fight in a rage, swinging harder and quicker until the soldier can't keep in time with you. You knock him onto his back, as you point the sword down on him this time. You witness he only has bruises on him, despite the now bloody knuckles he has thanks to his lovely punch.

"Do you yield?" You growl above him, shoving the wooden tip of the sword into his throat. He is quick to nod in shame, and the crowd around you continue their murmurings, their eyes cast on something above.

You follow their gazes, believing it was some divine being of Miquella that had flown down upon them, only to see a mass of red, two-winged serpents and one cold golden eye.

Ah, there you are. You stare at one another as you chuck the sword into the mud. You believe that to him, you must look like some madwoman, dressed in men's garbs, wielding a wooden sword with blood dripping down your face. In fact, rather than wiping the blood from your face, you keep it there. Look at how dirty I fight now, My Lord. You think mockingly.

You don't break eye contact with him, grinning wildly with red in your teeth as Messmer simply holds your gaze a second longer, before turning and walking away. But you know all too well that through that scowl, there is something that he is thinking other than wishing to burn you alive.

Vindication builds within you, as you saunter off back to the infirmary.

A/N: Ah, I love feral Tarnished, looking like some rabid dog that needs to be put down, whilst Messmer must be thinking what on earth has he brought into his Keep. More fighting! And even though I didn't think this chapter would have any, I surprised myself by including some. I'm also really building into the 'they hate each other's guts and want nothing to do with one another' but I promise I shall have them interacting with one another once again.

#messmer fic #elden ring messmer #messmer the impaler #messmer x reader #messmer x tarnished #tarnished! reader #elden ring fic #elden ring shadow of the erdtree #elden ring dlc #itstheendofthegoddamnworld writes

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