#Negative Scanning Service

[photo60studio]

https://photo60studio.bcz.com/2023/07/14/how-is-the-negative-scanning-service-used/

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[ambernick00]

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[icallhimjoey]

https://www.tumblr.com/icallhimjoey/769345688851103744/i-asked-for-pyjama-vibe-joe-and-forgot-about-his

Ohhh can we get a soft pyjama and glasses Joey? Like him wearing the combo for the first time because it’s a new relationship and we looooove it. Or us stealing the shirt after freaky time. Or idek! The possibilities!

soft pyjama and glasses joey, at your service Wordcount: 2.1K

---

Not A Wink

“Wait, can you… wait here. Wait, no. Just. Yea… wait here and, also, um... yea, maybe... maybe close your eyes a second…” you pushed Joe away from your closed bedroom door, two hands to his chest.

Joe took hold of both of them as he laughed, easily letting you push him back, stepping backwards down the hall.

“What are you hiding in there that I can’t see?”

You were having a hard time hiding your own smile.

“No, nothing, I just… I’ve got to just check something, quickly. Just in case. Wait here.”

You were the cutest girl he’d ever met. Joe couldn’t quite believe he was allowed into the home of the cutest girl he’d ever met.

“Close your eyes.” You insisted, and Joe couldn’t help laugh more, his arms stretching as you walked back to your bedroom, touching until you were out of reach.

“I can’t see anything from here!”

“Close your eyes!”

Joe gave you a deadpan stare, shoulders dropping, but joy never leaving his face. When you waited by the door, hand on the handle, and looked at him in silence for a moment, he rolled his eyes and finally complied.

“It’ll just be a second,” you said, your smile evident in your voice.

Joe heard a door open, then soft footsteps, some light shuffling, and then silence. He wondered if he was going to be able to tell what needed a last minute wipe down. As if he was going to care about a crease in your bedsheets. You should see his bedroom…

“Okay, ready. You can open your eyes.”

Joe’d been a good boy and had really kept his eyes closed. When he opened them, it was to you stood in your doorway, both hands behind your back, biting down on your bottom lip as you smiled.

Cutest girl in the world.

“Yea? Am I allowed in?”

Joe got to see your bedroom exactly as you wanted it to look every day, but how you never managed to leave it. With everything in its place, no dirty laundry on the floor, no clothes on the clothes-chair, no half-empty mugs on the bedside table and, most importantly, the bed made.

You never made your bed. You’d do it once when you changed the sheets, and then left a rumpled mess behind when you rushed out of bed after sleeping through your alarm each morning.

“Wow,” Joe said, overdoing it a tad, just to fuck with you. “This looks like a hotel room.”

It didn’t. Not really.

“Thanks.” You smiled, ignoring his humorous tone and taking the compliment as if he’d really meant it. When you looked at him, you saw how his gaze had landed on where you slept in your bed. He pointed a finger as he raised his eyebrows.

“Is this from where you send me voice notes every night?” Joe took a step forward, his eyes on you as his index finger still pointed at your pillow.

You nodded, teeth digging into your lip. It was impossible to lose your smile.

“This is…” Joe started, looking at your bed for a moment, scanning the sheets and trying to picture you in that spot. No make-up, pyjamas on. Face in your pillow, phone in hand. In a short while, he wasn’t going to have to imagine that anymore. “This is sort of strange, isn’t it?” Joe mused, turning his face to see you stood in your doorway still.

“Why?” you asked, watching on as Joe sat down on top of the covers, acting like he just took a seat on a throne which made you giggle. “You’re making it strange.”

“It’s like I’m visiting a famous landmark.”

You grinned as you watched him sensibly bounce on your mattress a couple of times, getting a feel for it.

“It is like visiting a famous landmark.” You joked, and then quickly added. “Don’t leave a Google review though, I move around a lot in my sleep and I couldn’t bear the negative feedback.”

Joe laughed as he got back up, couldn’t help his arms reaching out to grab hold of you as your face beamed with pride at making Joe laugh like that. You bit your lips so hard, you nearly drew blood.

For a moment you just stood like that. Close. Holding each other, faces just inches removed, twin smiles about to burst. You weren’t going to get a wink of sleep this night.

“Did you um,” you cast your eyes down to his button-down shirt. To his jeans. “Did you bring a more comfortable outfit?”

Joe raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking if I brought my pyjamas?”

“Were you planning on watching a film in jeans?”

Ha, he thought. A film. If he’d got the chance, he’d be watching you more than he’d be watching any film this evening. His eyes tended to stick to you with too much ease.

Like right now.

“Or is this a no-bottoms sort of evening?” you challenged light-heartedly.

Joe’s eyes scanned your face a moment as he grinned.

“I brought pyjamas.” He then said, leaning down a little in hopes of sneaking a kiss.

You let him sneak one without any fuss. Warm lips of a warm smile to warm lips of a warm smile.

“In your overnight bag?” you teased, having made a big deal of the backpack he’d walked in with earlier, before dinner.

“In my overnight bag.” Joe didn’t mind how the simple fact that he brought some things over was somehow entertainment he was providing you with. It was either that, or the bad puns he’d make, and a giggle at a pair of soft pyajama bottoms didn’t feel quite as embarrassing as an awkward joke would likely make him feel.

Joe was told to change whilst you made your way into the bathroom to take your make-up off.

You felt real butterflies about the prospect of having Joe over properly for the first time ever. This was the first time you had made plans that extended to the next morning. This was going to be more than just some raunchy touching in your living room before he’d leave just before or just after midnight to go sleep in his own bed.

You were going to be wearing pyjamas around each other.

Brush your teeth in your bathroom before you’d crawl into bed together.

Prepare and have breakfast in your kitchen the next morning.

You swiped a cotton round over your eyes and heard Joe move around in your flat. Just him existing on his own in your space made your stomach flip. Halfway through your facial cleanse, Joe suddenly appeared behind you, and for a moment, you smiled at each other in the mirror. He was still in his button down, but his jeans had been replaced with a pair of faded black joggers. For a moment you thought maybe he had a question about something, but before you could even ask, he stepped forward and casually placed a dark blue toiletry bag next to the sink.

So domestic.

You refrained from opening it and having a peek inside as you finished up in the bathroom, hair tied up, face clean and bare. You made your way back to your bedroom to change into your own pyjamas and found evidence of Joe left behind. His charger in the socket on the side of the bed where he’d be sleeping. His backpack to the side. His clothes semi folded in a messy pile on the dresser.

Looking at all of Joe’s things in your bedroom with the background noise of him pottering about in your kitchen made you smile so much, you wondered when your cheeks were going to grow sore.

So domestic.

“What do you want to drink?” he called across your flat, and earlier, when Joe had offered you a drink in your own home, it had solely been to make you laugh. This time, it didn’t feel so much like a joke as it felt like he genuinely wanted to do something nice for you. Get you a drink so you wouldn’t have to get it yourself. A simple sweet gesture that probably wasn’t meant to make you feel the way it did.

There were so many things about the beginnings of a new relationship that you didn’t like.

The risk of letting a new person into your life wasn’t lost on you. Letting someone in too quick, too soon. Revealing too much of yourself too quick, too soon. The vulnerability that opened you up to the possiblity to get hurt...

Scary stuff.

But the excitement of it all? The constant uncontrollable smile you couldn’t seem to wipe off your face. The butterflies wreaking havoc inside of your stomach. Giggly breathlessness that turned nerves into excitement. The way all of it could make you feel lightheaded in the good way?

Fucking gold.

With your body in a soft cosy outfit, you found Joe in your kitchen wearing an outfit not unlike your own. For a fraction of a second, the nervous thought of Joe getting to see you in your factory settings crossed your mind.

But then you saw his glasses.

Joe hadn’t yet worn his glasses in front of you, and stood here in your living area now, in a cream-coloured cotton long-sleeved shirt, you couldn’t help the way that made your eyebrows pinch together.

How could a man look sexy and adorable at the same time?

“Glass of–... uh oh,” Joe turned around holding up a freshly opened bottle of wine, but stopped mid-sentece when he saw your expression. “Sorry, was I not meant to–”

“No, no!” you cut him off, and tried your very best to keep the laugh that bubbled up inside. “No, that’s– yes. Yes. That’s fine, yea. I would love a glass, thanks.”

Joe frowned a little in confusion, eyes narrowing, but his smile unwavering.

“It’s just,” you hestitated telling him. Thought maybe he wouldn’t appreciate what you considered to be a genuine compliment.

“Just... a bottle of wine that you were saving for a special occassion that I wasn’t meant to open?” Joe made a face, and it was becoming a little bit embarrassing at how easily he had you in stitches. “Or what?”

“No,” you laughed, and Joe couldn’t help the slight muddled huff of laughter that escaped his nose. This really wasn’t helping the cute allegations. “No, it’s just that,” you tried again, grabbing two glasses from a cabinet and placing them down in front of Joe. “You look...”

Before you finished that sentence, you let your eyes dance over him. The flash of selfconsiousness across his face only endeared him more to you.

“A mess?”

“Cute.”

You weren’t sure what kind of reaction you were expecting, but you definitely didn’t think the comment was going to make Joe blush so fiercely. Hadn’t anticipated him turning slightly shy as he put the bottle down, dropped his head to his shoulder as he squeezed his eyes shut whilst an arm reached to pull you in.

“Sorry,” you said through a giggle as you got trapped into a tight hug.

“Stealing my compliments now, are we?”

“I think it’s the glasses,” you gladly accepted the firmly pressed kisses to the top of your head.

“You think?” Joe pulled back a little and adjusted them on his nose as he looked at you through the lenses.

“Yea, I do.” You smiled, peering up at him, hoping that if you smiled and looked at his lips for long enough, he’d get the hint.

He did get the hint, but didn’t give you what you were asking for before he got both his hands on your face, both thumbs on your cheeks, both pinkies hooking your jaw.

“Guess I’ll keep them on then.” Joe managed to say through a kiss, and he said it like he’d be doing you a favour.

Which, he would be, actually. But he was joking, so you laughed against his mouth, and the giggle made Joe want to eat you alive. Swallow you whole. Squeeze your bodies together until they weren’t able to ever unstick again.

There was an open bottle of wine on the counter next to you, a TV waiting for someone to press play on its remote, and a bed eager for two bodies to occupy it all the way until the morning.

But Joe was kissing a cute girl in her kitchen, glasses bumping into her nose, and felt no rush to move out of the hold you had on him.

Cutest girl in the world.

Yea, he wasn’t going to get a wink of sleep this night.

---

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Add yourself

[heesngirl]

Synopsis : In a city where luxury and danger coexist behind shiny facades, The Sentinel introduces Lee Heeseung, a tactical agent whose life revolves around vigilance, precision and a single priority: protecting the person most important to him. The story kicks off in the midst of a mission that, while seemingly routine, soon reveals itself to be part of something bigger, more tangled and much more personal. Between covert threats, tensions within the team, miscalculations and a briefcase that could change everything, Heeseung faces not only operational risks, but also his own emotional limits. With a narrative that oscillates between suspense, action and a deep bond that is unnamed but felt on every scene, this story marks the beginning of something far more complex than a simple operation: a silent war between the professional and the personal.

Warning : EA/BDG Heeseung x Painter reader. dom! Heeseung, pet names, loss of virginity, oral sex (both), fingering, P in V, unprotected sex, cumshot, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, smut, mdni.

Count : 26k (Part. 1)

The icy wind was a constant on the rooftop, cutting like blades as it engulfed the men in their positions. From that vantage point, Seoul stretched out like a mosaic of moving lights, a potentially hostile terrain under the team's meticulous gaze. Heeseung remained motionless, his body in controlled tension as he scanned the target building through the scope of his sniper rifle.

The communicator frequency remained static for a second before Jake broke the silence.

— System operating stable. CCTV cameras are under control. But, if you ask me, the guy in the orange tie is still my prime suspect, if only for the visual attack. — Sim spoke, even wanting to add some humor to lighten the tension.

— Focus your resources, Jake — Heeseung replied in a low but firm voice. He turned his body slightly, adjusting his rifle to compensate for a wind current that had changed direction. The scope's laser remained fixed on one of the building's upper-level windows. — Prioritize the VIP area where Jongseong is. The threat is more likely concentrated there.

A few meters away, Sunghoon leaned against the edge of the building, his rifle mounted on a tripod for stability.

— Maybe we should start with him. Although the crime here is probably bad taste. — Sunghoon added, following the Australian's lead.

However, Heeseung didn't take his eyes off the scope.

— Sunghoon, focus. South window, level five. Do you see any movement? — Lee's demands made it clear he wasn't in the mood for jokes right now.

Sunghoon adjusted his scope, scanning the indicated area with precision.

_ Negative. Only the service team. Movement patterns match previous reports. No anomalies.

Jake chimed in again, the sound of his fingers typing almost as steady as his voice.

— Section B, levels three and four, checked. No signs of hostile activity. By the way, Chief, how do you feel knowing your lady is under the protection of a rookie?

Heeseung's silence lasted a moment, but it was long enough for Sunghoon to click his tongue softly.

— Come on, Jake. Don't push him. We know he hates delegating his personal security. It's like someone else is carrying his favorite weapon.

Jake chuckled before continuing.

— Favorite weapon? I'd say it's his entire arsenal. Although, Heeseung, I'm told the new bodyguard looks better than you in a suit. I'd start to worry. You could be out of a job.

The sound of Heeseung's lips tightening was almost audible over the line. He adjusted his position, recalibrating the rifle to ensure the wind wouldn't affect the shot's trajectory if necessary.

— Jake, if you keep talking, you'll be my next target.

The communicator filled with muffled laughter until Jongseong's voice cut in earnestly.

— Shut up and keep the channel clear. I'm surrounded by people who would pay to make me disappear, and their chatter isn't helping my concentration.

— Situation report, Jongseong. — Heeseung ordered, returning to his authoritative tone.

— Everything seems calm. Standard behavior pattern. Although there are a couple of guests with unusually calculated movements. They're in the northwest corner of the main hall. However, it could be paranoia. — Jongseong replied, a faint echo of tension in his voice.

— Paranoia is useful. Mark their location and maintain visual distance. — Heeseung indicated, activating his targeting laser and focusing it on the room. The intersection between what he saw in his visor and Jake's heat map gave him complete coverage of the area.

Jake cleared his throat, capturing everyone's attention before speaking.

— I'm setting up a facial recognition scan. Give me a minute.

— You don't have a minute, Heeseung replied with a snarl. He quickly scanned the horizon, looking for any sign of an approaching drone or hostile equipment. — Speed, Jake.

—I've got it, I've got it — Jake began rattling off information. — Man one: Japanese businessman, no suspicious record. Man two: Chinese businessman, history of money laundering, but nothing linking him to terrorist activity.

— Monitor them closely, Heeseung ordered.

Sunghoon raised his head slightly at Lee, his tone heavy with skepticism.

— Are we sure this mission isn't a waste of time?

Heeseung glared at him before answering.

— It's on these "quiet" missions that things tend to go to hell. Stay alert.

The channel returned to silence, except for the soft whirring of electronic equipment and the echo of the wind against the buildings. Heeseung couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. His training had taught that calm was never a good omen.

— Jake, any anomalies in the thermal readings? — he finally asked.

— Negative. Everything is within normal parameters. — Jake replied. His tone, though relaxed, had a slight tremor.

— Something's off... — Heeseung muttered to himself, but his team heard it anyway.

Sunghoon adjusted his posture, straightening slightly.

— Do you have a bad feeling?

— I always do. — Heeseung inhaled deeply, his fingers brushing the rifle's trigger out of sheer habit. It wasn't paranoia, not after so many years in the field. Things were never that simple.

The clock in his mind kept ticking every second. It wasn't just the time spent on the mission. It was the time that kept him away from you.

— Get ready. This isn't going to stay quiet much longer.

The sound of the wind against the building's facade was barely audible through the insulation of the headphones. However, for Heeseung, every detail in the environment was like a silent warning: something was out of place. From his position on the rooftop, the view of the city stretched out like a tapestry of flashing lights, but his attention was fixed on a critical point, a space between the shadows where the pieces on the board began to move.

Jake's voice broke into the channel with an urgency that left no room for doubt:

— Chief, we have activity on the 15th floor. A subject has entered the service area. He's carrying something bulky it looks like a briefcase, but it doesn't fit the standard profile. Metallic material visible around the edges.

Heeseung adjusted the scope of his rifle, the thermal imager highlighting the suspect's silhouette through the building's tinted glass.

— How bulky? It details the movement."

Jake responded instantly, his fingers tapping the keyboard in an almost mechanical rhythm as he processed the data from the monitoring system.

— About 70 centimeters per side, maybe more. He's using both hands to carry it, though the movement is fluid. It doesn't seem heavy, but it's not light either. He entered through corridor 15-B, access restricted according to the plans."

— Behavior pattern? — Heeseung asked, memorizing the coordinates.

— Direct. No hesitation. This guy knows exactly where he's going, — Jake said, his tone now deeper. — He has backup: two subjects in the approach area. They're about 10 meters behind, covering possible entry points.

Before Heeseung could issue an order, Jongseong's voice entered the channel. His tone had an unusual edge of tension.

— I need backup. The two suspects I identified in the VIP area are moving. They're approaching my location. They're not patrolling, boss, they're looking for something... or someone.

The air grew heavier, charged with a palpable threat that vibrated in the frequency of their voices. Heeseung took a deep breath, letting the cold logic of years of training drown out any emotional distractions.

— Jake, continue monitoring the primary target. Sunghoon, maintain cover in the corridor. We can't let these guys act unchallenged. I'm going in. — Heeseung declared, as he began securing the descent harness.

Sunghoon looked up from his visor, though he kept a firm hand on the sniper rifle.

— Just you? — he asked, though he already knew the answer.

— Your position is critical. If anything gets out of hand, I need you to eliminate any threat before it crosses the line.

Sunghoon nodded, returning his attention to the telescopic sight. His tone was calm, but with a hint of concern.

— Understood. Just make sure you don't give them a clear angle

The rappelling gear was cold to the touch as Heeseung adjusted it with meticulous movements. Every buckle, every knot had to be perfect; there was no room for error. Jake, meanwhile, continued feeding the channel with data.

— The target has entered a room not recorded on the official plans. Access is direct from the main corridor. He's manipulating something on the door... Probably an electromagnetic decoder. This guy is no amateur.

— Estimated time to opening? — Heeseung asked, as he secured the rope to the main anchor.

— Depends on the model, but if it's what I think, less than two minutes."

Heeseung cursed under his breath. Time was a resource they didn't have. He glanced at Sunghoon one last time before crossing the edge of the rooftop.

— Cover the area. If anything moves toward the target, neutralize it.

The descent began with a firm tug on the rope. Every meter he fell brought him closer to the heart of the problem, and every second counted like a heartbeat in a countdown he couldn't afford to miss. From above, Sunghoon followed his movements, his rifle adjusted to keep his sights on any emerging threat.

— Jake, give me an update. — Heeseung asked, as he maneuvered to avoid the ventos. The most exposed ends.

— Two side entrances are blocked. The other two suspects are covering the apartment's main exits. Chief, I don't like how this is setting up. It looks like a coordinated move."

— It is," Heeseung replied, his voice as cold as his gaze. He knew an ambush when he saw one.

Finally, his boots made contact with the windowsill. With swift movements, he cut the rope and secured his weapon. The apartment's interior was dark, lit only by the occasional flicker of emergency lights.

— I'm in. Jake, lead the way.

The hum of the electromagnetic decoder echoed around the room like a silent countdown. Heeseung stood by the entrance, his back pressed against the wall, his gaze fixed on the dim lighting that filtered through the crack in the door. His right hand adjusted his grip on the rifle while his left brushed against the knife secured to his thigh. He still didn't know exactly how many enemies were inside, but he knew he couldn't wait any longer.

— Jake, tell me what's behind that door. — he whispered in a subdued voice, his tone tense but still in control.

The sound of incessant typing filled the earpiece before the answer came quickly.

— Two confirmed hostiles. One is manipulating the decoder, the other is covering the door with a weapon. You have about fifteen seconds before it opens.

Heeseung exhaled through his nose, trying to gauge the time with his own breath. He couldn't allow the lock to give way.

— Escape routes?

— The only viable exit is the hallway leading to the service area. But if these guys are here, it's because they have backup on the perimeter. — Sim explained, still typing tirelessly.

Heeseung didn't need any more information. In a single motion, he unclipped a stun grenade from his belt, activated it with a quick twist of the safety catch, and threw it through the crack in the door just as the decoder emitted a final beep.

The blinding flash lit up the room like a flash of lightning, accompanied by a sharp crack that reverberated off the walls. The muffled screams of the enemy confirmed that the blow had worked. He wasted no time. With a firm kick, he knocked down the door and entered, his rifle braced against his shoulder, his eyes already adjusting to the dim lighting.

One of the enemy members staggered, both hands going to his face in an instinctive attempt to regain vision, while the other, still shaken by the blast, tried to raise his weapon. Heeseung didn't give him a chance. He fired a single, accurate shot at the torso, watching the body fall heavily to the floor with nothing more than a ragged gasp.

The second man tried to react upon hearing the shot, but Heeseung moved faster. He crossed the distance in a couple of strides, grabbed him by the jacket, and slammed him violently against the wall, pinning him down with his forearm pressing against his windpipe.

— What's in the briefcase?" he whispered coldly, watching the man struggle in his grasp, his expression tinged with confusion and rage.

The enemy let out a stifled gasp, trying to catch his breath, but instead of responding, he let out a hoarse laugh, an exhalation laced with mockery.

— It's too late."

The radio in his ear emitted a sudden crack before Jake's voice cut in alarmingly.

— Heeseung, we have a problem! I've lost the corridor's signal for seventeen seconds, and now there's a third hostile moving toward the VIP area. It's fast. This is a coordinated movement.

Heeseung's grip tightened for a moment before he released his hold on the enemy, dropping him unceremoniously to the floor. He spun around and hurried out into the hallway, his mind already processing the best way to intercept the threat before it reached Jongseong.

The warm lights of the room, the clinking of glasses, and the cadence of carefree conversation seemed too perfect a setting for the latent tension in the air. Jongseong stood by the table, his expression calm and his posture relaxed, but his gaze was fixed on the two men slowly closing the distance between them.

His hand turned the glass between his fingers with a nonchalant air, as if he didn't sense the presence of the two strangers strategically positioning themselves around him. But he felt it. He knew it.

— I don't like the way they're moving. — he whispered casually, his tone low enough for his communicator to pick up the words without alerting those around him.

— Stay where you are. I'm on my way. — Heeseung's reply came instantly, firm but restrained. Jongseong didn't react; there was no need to.

One of the men finally reached him and raised his glass with a calculated smile, as if it were a simple courtesy.

— Mr. Park, it's good to see you enjoying the evening. —The way he articulated each word left no room for doubt. This wasn't casual conversation.

Jongseong maintained his neutral expression, bringing the glass to his lips before responding with feigned calm.

— I put too much effort into my attire not to. — he murmured lightly, without taking his eyes off the liquid in his glass.

The man inclined his head slightly, his smile barely perceptible.

— Confidence is a dangerous weapon. Sometimes, one small slip of the tongue is enough to make everything fall apart. — the same man pronounced with a certain mysticism. Before Jongseong could reply, the side door of the lounge opened with a loud bang.

The murmur of the guests instantly dissipated, turning into shouts and panicked runs as soon as Heeseung's figure appeared in the doorway, his gait measured but lethal. His gaze scanned the scene with the precision of a predator analyzing its territory, identifying each threat in a matter of seconds.

The first man, still next to Jongseong, slid his hand inside his jacket in an attempt to reach his weapon. He didn't have time to react.

Heeseung crossed the distance in two strides, caught his wrist before he could draw his weapon, and, with a sharp, controlled twist, dislocated his arm with a sickening crunch. Before he could scream, he slammed it against the nearest table, knocking over glasses and plates in a shower of broken glass.

The second man barely managed to take a step back before Jongseong slightly tilted his wrist and spilled the contents of his glass over his face. The reaction was immediate. The burning of the alcohol in his eyes made the man swear, bringing both hands to his face in a reflex action.

It was enough. Heeseung took advantage of the distraction and kicked him in the knee, knocking him face down before immobilizing him with the barrel of his gun pressed against the base of his skull.

— Don't let it show that you're desperate to end this. — Jongseong joked to Heeseung, but he only gave him an indecipherable look before simply going to inspect the area.

The chaos of the operation still permeated the air when the team finally left the building, blending in with the sound of sirens wailing in the distance and the flashing lights of patrol cars illuminating the scene with red and blue flashes. Outside, the criminals were subdued and escorted to special forces vehicles, while the guests were guided to a secure area. The security protocol was deployed with mechanical precision, each unit fulfilling its function efficiently.

Jake, arms crossed and a look of pride that was hard to hide, watched the scene with an air of self-sufficiency before blurting out with obvious satisfaction:

— Well, once again, everything was solved thanks to my impeccable skills. I don't want to say I'm the best, but... well, I really am. — This was typical of him; he was almost always heard saying the same thing at the end of a mission.

Jongseong, who until that moment had only watched silently, slowly turned his head toward him with an arched eyebrow. His expression was a mixture of disbelief and suppressed mockery.

— Your impeccable skills? — he repeated sarcastically, tilting his head in feigned interest. — You mean the part where you claimed the briefcase contained a bomb ready to blow the building to smithereens?

Jake frowned instantly, his smug smile fading a little.

— Yeah, so what? — he retorted defensively, abandoning his previous stance. Jongseong snorted and shook his head before crossing his arms.

— That what was in the briefcase wasn't a bomb — He paused deliberately, savoring the moment before shrugging. — They were containers of a yet-to-be-identified chemical.

Jake blinked, the confidence on his face turning into disbelief.

— No, that's impossible. — the Australian persistently defended himself.

— I'm not saying that. The chemical response team is. — Jongseong gave an amused smile before pointing toward the area where the hazardous materials specialists were handling the contents of the briefcase with safety equipment.

Jake opened his mouth to protest, but couldn't find the words immediately. His expression went from disbelief to frustration in a matter of seconds.

— No... It can't be. The thermal readings and electronic signatures matched those of a high-impact bomb! — Exasperation filled him; he clearly didn't like being wrong, especially when it came to something so important.

— Well, I guess someone made a mistake in their 'flawless analysis.' — Jongseong gave a short, mocking laugh before patting him on the shoulder with mock sympathy.

Jake, clearly offended, turned his head to Heeseung for support, hoping his leader would intervene and back him up. Heeseung was practically his puppet for a while.

— Heeseung, tell them this isn't making any sense. I didn't make a mistake, right? — but the answer never came. Jongseong, noticing the sudden silence, also turned his head in Heeseung's direction, only to be met with… nothing.

—Where the hell is he?—Jongseong muttered, frowning as he scanned the area for Lee.

Jake spun around, looking around with the same expression as someone who had just lost something they were holding a few seconds ago.

— Don't fuck with me… He was here two minutes ago. —Jake assures, continuing to scan the room, but to no avail.

The two exchanged a puzzled look before turning to Sunghoon, who stood with his hands in his pockets, his expression utterly indifferent to the situation.

— Sunghoon, where's Heeseung? — Jongseong called, frowning. But the sniper barely blinked before shrugging, not bothering to show surprise.

— He left as soon as we left the building. — he replied, looking as unfazed as ever.

Jake blinked a few times, clearly unsure whether to laugh or get angry. Jongseong, for his part, ran a hand over his face in exasperation before slowly shaking his head.

Sim, still processing his leader's sudden disappearance, snorted in resignation before blurting out, with a mixture of frustration and amusement : — No doubt... the agent and bodyguard of the year."

And even though it was all over, the feeling that this was just the beginning of something bigger lingered in the air.

The roar of the engine mingled with the night air as the car sped through the streets with almost inhuman precision. Heeseung kept one hand firmly on the wheel, while the other busied himself with disposing of his gear. His bulletproof vest was the first to come off, its weight falling into the backseat with a thud. Without taking his eyes off the road, he hooked his earphones with his index finger and thumb, pulling them off with a sharp motion before dropping them next to his gun on the passenger seat.

Every action was executed with the same precision he had demonstrated moments earlier in the operation. The way he undid the straps of his gear, the way his movements were quick but controlled, spoke of a man accustomed to moving under pressure. But this time it wasn't a chase; there was no enemy on his heels, no threat forcing him to run. His urgency was different, much more visceral.

The speed he was driving was dangerous for anyone without his level of driving skill, but he didn't brake, didn't hesitate even once as he took the turns with a fluidity that defied traffic laws. His gaze was fixed on the road, dark and deserted at this hour, but in his mind, his destination was already clear. He had only one priority.

The car stopped precisely in front of the illuminated building where the event was taking place. The elegant lights decorating the entrance contrasted with the darkness of the night, reflecting off the windshield like intermittent flashes that Heeseung completely ignored. His mind was no longer on the mission he had just completed, nor on the criminals being brought to justice. No, his focus was solely on what was in front of him.

Without wasting a single second, he leaned into the seat and, with practical and precise movements, began to remove the last traces of the operation. He unbuttoned his tactical shirt and slipped his operational uniform jacket over his shoulders, letting it fall into the backseat. His breathing was still controlled, though there was a different urgency in its rhythm than it had been a few minutes ago. It wasn't the stress of combat, nor the tension of a confrontation. It was the need to reclaim his place.

With steady fingers, he took the black silk tie he'd left ready before the mission, knotted it quickly, and tightened it with a sharp tug. His suit jacket was next, sliding over his shoulders with ease, fitting his body as if it had always been there. Finally, with the same meticulous efficiency, he unbuckled his belt and discarded his tactical uniform pants, leaving only the dress pants he wore underneath.

He had planned this from the beginning. No matter how chaotic the mission was or what unforeseen events arose along the way, he had been clear from the beginning that as soon as it was over, this would be his destination. Because there was no force that could make him delegate his task to someone else and feel comfortable doing so.

He wouldn't trust another to protect you. He wasn't going to leave your safety in the hands of a replacement who, in his eyes, would be nothing more than an incompetent, incapable of providing you with the care, protection, and service that only he could offer. Because protecting you was not only his duty, but his right.

He fastened his wristwatch and ran his fingers through his hair, arranging it with the same precision with which he secured a weapon before entering combat. Then, he took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on the entrance to the event. He had wasted enough time, and now, he would resume his position.

As he walked through the doors of the event, he immediately felt the change in atmosphere. Everything about the place radiated luxury and elegance. But what captured everyone's attention most wasn't the expensive outfits or the opulence of the place, but the majestic works that adorned the walls, each one with an air of grandeur that could only be attributed to its creator.

He paused for a moment, allowing himself to observe the paintings on display with a feeling that could only be described as pride. There they were, displayed in the way that best suited them, every stroke, every color reflecting the unmistakable essence of their creator. He knew how much this evening meant to you, how much you had worked for this moment, and although he didn't usually stop to appreciate art with the same intensity as the critics or collectors who murmured in fascination, in that moment, he felt something different. A deep satisfaction that led him to a slight smile.

But his time of admiration was brief. Soon, his focus shifted to what had truly brought him here. With the sharp eyes of someone trained to analyze their surroundings in a matter of seconds, he began to scan the crowd, searching among the faces, among the impeccable dresses and suits, and the golden reflections of the champagne in the glasses raised in a toast.

And then, he found you...

There you were, wrapped in the warm lighting of the hall, your cheeks flushed and an expression that, despite the slight cloudiness in your gaze, retained the same spark that always managed to ignite something inside him. You'd been drinking, there was no doubt about it. He knew well your poor resistance to alcohol, enough to know that that blush wasn't just a product of the festive atmosphere, but of the wine or champagne you'd surely been sipping for a while now.

Without hesitation, he closed the distance between himself and you, ignoring the crowd, the fleeting glances that fell on him when they recognized him, the murmur of other people's conversations that held little interest for him. His attention was fixed on one thing: you.

By the time he reached your side, his hand slid effortlessly to your waist, holding you with a certainty that left no room for hesitation. The feel of your satin dress against his palm was almost hypnotic, but he didn't allow himself to dwell on that detail. Just as confidently, he guided you away from the center of the event, leading you to a more secluded corner, away from prying eyes.

As soon as you had even the slightest shelter from the crowd, you felt the urge to pounce on him, without thinking, without hesitation. He caught you immediately, more by reflex than anything else, and the light laugh that escaped your lips as he steadied you resonated like a direct echo in his chest. His grip remained firm, feeling the warmth of your body against his, the way you leaned in without reservation, with the innocence and boldness of someone not completely sane. Something inside him contracted. Because he knew you. I knew the impeccable composure you usually maintained, the way, even in the most carefree moments, you never completely lost that aura of restraint and elegance. And yet, there you were, giving him a version of yourself you rarely allowed anyone to see.

— You took too long, — your voice sounded sweet, with that syrupy tinge that only alcohol could infuse your words. A slight pout appeared on your lips, as you looked at him with an expression that, if I weren't so used to reading your every nuance, I might have interpreted as genuine reproach. — I came to think I'd really have to spend the whole night escorted by that cheap replacement they assigned me in your absence.

The way you slid your gaze over his face, with those eyes of yours so expressive, so analytical even in the midst of your drunkenness, made his jaw tense slightly. And then you smiled. Not just any smile. A goofball, completely genuine, full of that warmth you rarely displayed with such transparency.

— Although, you know what? — you murmured, leaning a little closer to him, as if sharing a secret. — There's no comparison. You look so much better in a suit than that sad copy they tried to replace you with.

Your comment took him by surprise. Not because of the content itself, but because of the way you said it; without reservation, without any shame. For the first time all night, Heeseung felt a wave of satisfaction run through him, a warmth different from that of the mission, deeper, more personal.

Those words were a kind of relief. It wasn't that he doubted his place, or his role at your side, but Jake's mocking comment about that incompetent man they'd left in charge of your security had been on his mind more than he was willing to admit. Not because he was afraid of losing his job, but because, for the barest of moments, the idea that you might feel safer with someone else had been like a thorn in his side.

But now, with that declaration from you, spoken with complete honesty and without a hint of reserve, the thorn vanished completely. Of course, his job wasn't in jeopardy.

A crooked, barely perceptible smile touched his lips as he reached out and, with an instinctive gesture, brushed away a strand of your hair that had slipped over your cheek. His fingers brushed your skin with the lightness of a caress that wasn't entirely planned, but that he also made no attempt to avoid.

— How many drinks did you have to end up like this? — His tone was low, intimate, with a hint of amusement underlying it. As he asked the question, his thumb briefly brushed the curve of your cheekbone before casually dropping his hand.

Your eyelashes fluttered a couple of times before a satisfied, almost proud smile curved your lips.

— Five. — you said without hesitation, showing your open hand to emphasize the amount, with the confidence of someone who had just achieved a small personal triumph. Then you stared at him, waiting for his reaction. And when the laugh escaped his throat, deep and genuine, you knew you'd got it.

— Only five? — he repeated incredulously, gently shaking his head. — Not even I would feel anything with that amount.

But you weren't him. Your resistance was different, lower, something he'd always found fascinating. Because, in part, he liked seeing you like this, with your cheeks flushed, your eyes shining, and without the filters you usually wore under normal circumstances. He liked this version of you, looser, more transparent. More his.

From one second to the next, you sought more of him. Without warning, you closed the distance, tangling in his embrace with the same ease with which someone clings to something that comforts them. Your body molded to his easily, as if that were your place.

He gave in, because, fuck, how could he not? His arm tightened around your waist, pulling you against his chest a little more firmly, allowing you to feel the solidity of his presence, the warmth his body gave off. His other hand, still tangled in your hair, slowly descended to the curve of your back, guiding you with a gentleness that contrasted with how much he was enjoying having you so close.

— Princess... — his voice lowered a pitch, becoming deeper, more intimate. — Don't you think it's time to leave? Wouldn't you like to rest?

You pulled away just enough to look him in the eyes. And as soon as your pupils met his, there wasn't a second of hesitation in your answer.

— Get me out of here. I have nothing else to do in this place. All those people, the celebration... They've completely consumed me — you exhaled, with a hint of exhaustion you didn't try to hide. You paused for a moment, lightly biting your lip before continuing with the most honest confession of the evening. — The only thing I need now is to be with you. Without interruptions, without appearances to keep up.

He didn't wait any longer, nor did he need any other response. In a single movement, he swept you into his arms with insulting ease, as if you weighed absolutely nothing, as if carrying you like that was the most natural thing in the world.

And without further ado, he made his way through the crowd with firm, determined steps, ignoring any curious glances that might fall upon you. He didn't bother to notify the organizers, the staff, and much less your manager of your departure. He'd handle that detail later, when he could enjoy the shocked expression on that man's face when he realized you'd vanished without warning. For now, his only goal was to get you out of there, and nothing and no one would stand in his way.

【★】

The car glided smoothly to a stop in the parking lot, and as soon as he turned off the engine, he got out without delay. He walked around the vehicle with firm steps and opened the passenger door where you were. Without saying a word, he leaned forward slightly to unbuckle your seatbelt, his fingers briefly brushing the fabric of your dress as he released the latch with a subtle click. His expression was inscrutable, but in the way he helped you sit up, in the way his gaze briefly scanned your face, you could sense a different nuance, something that seemed to be torn between habit and a deeper need to take care of you.

The cool night air brushed your skin as you stepped out of the car, causing you to shudder slightly. You had barely taken a couple of steps outside when, with the same ease with which he held his gun on a mission, he scooped you up in his arms without warning.

— Heeseung! — you exclaimed in a strangled gasp, surprise etched in your voice as your arms instinctively clutched his neck. You looked at him in disbelief, trying to process his sudden action. — Put me down. I can walk on my own. I'm not drunk anymore. — you declared firmly, yet he didn't even slow his pace, carrying you with the same confidence with which he made every decision.

— I know, but I'm doing it because I understand that walking in heels is uncomfortable for you, — he replied calmly, without taking his eyes off the entrance. His tone was so nonchalant, so resolute, that for a moment you were speechless. — Even without you saying it, I know your feet are sore now.

And there it was again, that level of understanding that always disarmed you. You didn't need to tell him when you were tired, when you were uncomfortable, or when you needed support; he just knew. His ability to read you so accurately made a strange, warm, and deeply comforting feeling settle in your chest.

You entered the house amidst a complicit silence. Heeseung didn't stop until he reached the living room, where he placed you with extreme care on the sofa, making sure you were comfortable before separating from you. Then, with the same ease with which he handled any situation, he knelt in front of you and moved his hands to your ankles, unbuckling your heels with patient movements.

— You should take better care of yourself — he murmured in a low tone, barely a reproach. But with that note of tenderness that always seeped into his words when it came to you. — Sometimes I think you're too self-careless.

His firm but careful fingers began to massage the sore area, tracing circles with just the right amount of pressure to relieve the tension. You closed your eyes for a moment, letting out an involuntary sigh as the feeling of relief coursed through every fiber of your body. Unable to help it, you leaned slightly toward him, raising a hand to his face, caressing his cheek with a gentle touch, a silent thank you.

His eyes met yours, and in that silent exchange, there was something that transcended words.

— That's why I have you, — you whispered, your voice barely a thread in the stillness of the moment. — You're always there for me, protecting me right and left.

Heeseung held your hand in his, his warm palm covering you with unwavering certainty. He nodded slightly, his pupils reflecting absolute determination.

— I always will be. Don't doubt that I'll be there for you without fail, no matter what it is. — He whispered with conviction, his tone imbued with something deeper, something that hadn't needed to be said out loud for a long time.

The closeness between you narrowed almost instinctively. Your gazes intertwined, your breaths sharing the same space, the tension enveloping you with an almost tangible intensity. Your lips parted slightly, as if you wanted to say something, but any words were cut short when he too began to lean in, his face approaching yours slowly, deliberately. Anticipation vibrated in the air, and every passing second seemed to stretch the moment to the limit.

Then the door burst open.

— Oh! Good evening, miss and sir. I didn't know you had arrived. — Mrs. Kim, the housekeeper, exclaimed cheerfully, her voice echoing from the kitchen entrance.

The tension between you dissipated in a blink. Heeseung moved away in a measured movement, while you, with unusual swiftness, sat up straight on the sofa as if nothing had happened. You tried to compose your expression, avoiding at all costs letting your face betray the moment you had almost shared.

— Mrs. Kim, please take the young lady to her room and draw her a bath, — he ordered firmly, without a hint of nervousness in his tone. His self-control remained intact, although there was still something in his gaze that he couldn't quite hide. — And make sure her bed is ready.

The woman nodded with a pleased smile and gently took your arm, guiding you with the familiarity of someone who has played that role countless times. As you stood, you cast one last glance in her direction, meeting those dark eyes that seemed to want to say far more than his mouth allowed at that moment.

— Good night, Hee. — you said quietly, trying to keep your tone neutral, although there was a note of gentleness you couldn't avoid.

— Good night, princess. — he replied, his voice firm but laden with an undertone only you could recognize.

As soon as you disappeared upstairs, silence fell over the house. He stood motionless in the center of the living room, his gaze fixed on the spot where you had vanished. His fingers inside his pockets clenched tightly. He had to leave. It was what he always did. Make sure you were safe and disappear until the next day.

But this time, something was holding him there.

The echo of your voice still vibrated in his mind, the touch of your skin against his hands, the closeness you had almost shared minutes ago. He sighed heavily, shaking off the thought, when suddenly his phone vibrated in his pocket, breaking the stillness of the place. He pulled out the device, and when he saw the name on the screen, his expression hardened. He frowned, his jaw clenching, but he didn't answer. Instead, he swiped to silence the call and put the phone away. That wasn't relevant, not now. Not when his priority lay elsewhere. You were safe. That was all that mattered.

Without wasting any more time, he turned on his heel and left the house, returning to the agent he'd always been.

The vibration of the hallway lights fused with the muffled echo of his footsteps as he moved forward. The coldness of the marble beneath his boots reverberated through the soles, matching the measured rhythm of his breathing. Heeseung's face was impassive, his gaze fixed straight ahead as he moved toward the meeting room, the tension in his shoulders barely perceptible beneath the controlled rigidity of his posture.

He pushed the door open with calculated firmness, the subtle creak of metal cutting through the air. Jake was leaning back in one of the leather chairs, one leg crossed over the other, a lazy smile on his face. Young Mi, sitting on his lap, ran her fingers over Jake's temples with an intimacy that had no place in this setting. Jake's hand rested with brazen familiarity on her thigh.

Heeseung barely frowned before clearing his throat with a dry sound. Young Mi instantly stepped away, while Jake, visibly relaxed, gave her a carefree smile.

— Boss... — Jake tried to compose himself, sitting up slightly in his seat. His crooked smile tried to soften the situation, but the Australian knew perfectly well there was no escaping the weight of that gaze.

Heeseung moved forward to sit opposite them, resting his elbows on the back of the chair with tense calm. The way he crossed his legs and interlaced his fingers on his knee gave the impression of someone relaxed, but Jake knew the signs of an annoyed Hee better than anyone. The air in the room dropped several degrees.

— I didn't think strategy meetings had evolved to... this kind of dynamic. — Heeseung commented with a tone laced with sarcasm, his sharp gaze scanning the space between Jake and Young Mi.

— Well, we all need a little distraction now and then... — Jake let out a nervous laugh, running a hand through his hair in a gesture that betrayed his discomfort.

— Distraction. — Heeseung repeated with a barely perceptible tilt of his head. His tone was neutral, but the charge behind that word was evident.

Jake opened his mouth to try to justify something, perhaps to ease the palpable tension that was beginning to settle in the room; but Heeseung gave him a sharp look that cut off any attempt at a response.

— Where's Jongseong and Sunghoon? — His voice was low, but the authority in it was unmistakable.

— On their way. They won't be long. — Young Mi was the one who answered, with her usual characteristic calm.

Heeseung nodded, shifting his gaze to Jake just as Young Mi stood up to say goodbye. Jake, despite his relaxed facade, couldn't help but follow the woman's gaze as she left the room with calculated elegance.

Once the door closed behind her, Heeseung returned his attention to Jake. The Australian settled into his seat, smiling with a hint of nervousness that he tried to disguise under a mask of confidence.

— Well? — Jake asked in a light tone, though his posture indicated a certain rigidity.

— Since when did you become so indiscreet? — Heeseung looked at him with a calmness that only made the accusation feel more serious.

Jake let out a dry laugh, placing a hand on the back of his head.

— Are you really going to lecture me about this? Because, if memory serves, you're not exactly a model of restraint when it comes to a certain... woman.

— It's not the same. — he defended himself almost automatically, in a sharp tone, his jaw clenched.

Jake let out a low laugh, leaning forward to argue.

— Oh, no? So tell me, what would you do if you finally put aside that pathetic self-restraint and showed your lady what you really wanted from her?

Heeseung remained silent, but the dark glint in his eyes was enough to make the Australian smirk.

— Exactly... — Sim continued, leaning back in his chair with a triumphant air. — But then, you're Lee Heeseung, the perfect guardian. The guy who controls every damn aspect of his life except when it comes to her.

The twitch in Lee's jaw was imperceptible to anyone who didn't know him as well as the man in front of him.

— This isn't the time to discuss this. — Heeseung finally said, his tone cutting.

Jake let out a nasal laugh, narrowing his eyes with a calculating expression. He was ready to continue pushing Heeseung's buttons, but before he could even utter another word, the door hinges creaked again, and that's when the two missing male presences had finally arrived. The underlying tension in the air didn't go unnoticed by both men, surnamed Park, who quickly realized that something had been happening between Sim and Lee.

— So what now? — Sunghoon was the first to speak, his tone laced with that hint of skepticism that seemed to be part of his default character.

Jongseong entered behind him, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets as he swept the room with an analytical gaze. His eyes narrowed slightly as they settled on Heeseung, whose expression still retained that sharp calm only seen after a tense exchange.

— Wow... — Jongseong trailed off with a slow, calculated smile. — We've arrived at a good time, or have we missed something interesting?

Heeseung didn't answer immediately. Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, his dark eyes scanning the space with a precision that suggested he was taking in every nuance in the air.

— What happened here? — Sunghoon persisted, his tone light but with a spark of genuine curiosity behind the question.

— Nothing relevant. So let's just focus our attention on whatever Jake has to show us. — Heeseung replied, his curt tone making it clear he had no intention of spilling the beans.

Without wasting any more time, the man Lee had mentioned got going; with a couple of quick gestures, Jake displayed a grainy image on his laptop screen. The figure of an individual in a dark hallway appeared, blurry but clear enough to capture the outlines of a man carrying a briefcase.

— This was captured by one of the security cameras while the system was under the control of the hack. —Jake explained, zooming in to make the figure more visible. It was only for a few seconds, during the sudden crash my system suffered while I was guiding Heeseung through the installation.

— And who's this? — Sunghoon asked, narrowing his eyes as he analyzed the image in front of them.

To which the laptop owner smiled broadly and shot a meaningful glance at Hee, then looked back at the first questioner. He added a key gesture to those glances; pretending to adjust his tie, he made them realize who it was. Sunghoon and Heeseung exchanged glances, understanding exactly what Sim was talking about.

— See, boss? I told you, the guy, beyond his visual assault with that stupid tie, never really gave me a good feeling. And I wasn't wrong. — Jake turned to the oldest of those present.

Who looked genuinely bewildered by such a revelation. He found it hard to believe that what started out as an innocent joke had actually hit the nail on the head. Even Sunghoon, who had also joined in on the joke at the time, seemed confused, but this fact.

— So, technically, it's like this... — the squad leader began, pausing dramatically to try to better connect the dots in his mind. — The first briefcase detected did end up being what was expected. A bomb that, for some reason, ended up in the hands of the guy with the tie. Whereas what we retrieved from that place, along with the criminals involved, was completely different.

Silence reigned once again as everyone present tried to weigh the thoughts in their heads, trying to channel what happened into the most congruent context.

— If the guy took the briefcase with the bomb, apparently deactivated at that point. Whereas the briefcase we managed to take contained the still-unidentified chemical, it only means that it was never really an alibi to blow up the building where the event was taking place. It was an exchange of corrupt goods. — Heeseung deduced skillfully.

— But there's still something that doesn't quite fit here — Jongseong added. — If that was the case, let's say the guy managed to sneak out of the VIP area where I was too, he would have done so at the moment I was trying to evade the two suspects who were after me. But then, how could he have made the exchange? Heeseung, you neutralized the other guys and with that, you got the briefcase that was taken as evidence. — after finishing his contribution, he turned to the others, who were also racking their brains trying to make sense of the whole thing.

It really all seemed to make no sense at all, which made them question whether it was really a mission handled fairly.

— Now that I think about it, and it still doesn't make sense. The entire exchange could have been executed during the seconds Jake was having trouble with the system — Sunghoon added. — Maybe the briefcase with the bomb never arrived at the same place Heeseung entered, but rather it could have been left at some key point, and what Hee intervened in was the subjects receiving their share of the exchange, and we always went after the wrong briefcase.

Everyone turned to look at the sniper, as his assumption didn't sound so far-fetched.

— Jake, didn't Young-Mi happen to bring an interrogation report with her? — Heeseung immediately questioned, to which the aforementioned quickly nodded and took out the document, leaving it on the desk. — Perfect. Jongseong, this is your task, and getting me the details later is a must. Jake, I want you to use your skills to find the identity of the subject who ended up taking the first briefcase. I'll be waiting.

With nothing else to add, he got up from his chair and left the office like a bat out of hell. This variant of the operation—although it might not seem like it—had him on edge. But his mind was also elsewhere, and he was going there.

【★】

The lively laughter of children echoed throughout the room, infecting you in the process. Children could be quite witty at times, which always helped make the outdoor art workshop in the gallery garden less boring for you. Your young apprentices had their own way of standing out, and you firmly believed that their little minds were more volatile and profound than an adult's. Their raw, innocent creativity and their interest in learning from you were incredible.

Until there came those moments when you'd rather everyone remained silent, and the curiosity of their constantly fluctuating little minds didn't get the best of them.

— Noona... — one of the younger ones suddenly alluded to you, to which you responded with a soft hum, letting him know he had your attention despite your gaze fixed on the small canvas in your hands. — Can love be expressed through painting?

The question caught you off guard, firstly because of its depth, despite being the inquiry of a child of only eight years old. Secondly, you knew that coming up with an answer, with the most appropriate words for someone of his age and understanding, would take a little extra effort.

— Love can be expressed in many ways, Jin-Seo — you begin in a simple and concise way, pausing momentarily to encourage the other person's anticipation, and then continuing with the formulation of your answer. — The most common way people express their love is by saying "I love you," because that way they are letting their opposite know that they feel love. But most people affirm that showing love goes beyond just putting it into words. There must also be actions and gestures that support the love you say you feel.

You thought they weren't paying attention to you until you looked up from the canvas and most of the little ones were staring at you intently, especially the one who asked the question. Maybe they were interested in your words, or just mesmerized by the gentle tone of your voice.

— So, with that in mind, consider that love could be expressed through painting. An example of this could be when you're painting and think of someone important, or like when you put something on canvas and want to give it to that person, or for that person to be the first to see it. — You added to your explanation, a kind of self-reflection, since while you were saying each word, there was only one person you could think of.

After a moment, everyone began to converse among themselves, while simultaneously continuing with their artistic activities. What you said earlier seemed to resonate with them; it amused you to see them talking about it, when many of them probably didn't understand anything.

— Someone whose art is abstract and profound also seems to have a mindset driven by the same patterns. — A male voice suddenly sounded behind you, causing you to flinch slightly. There was nothing familiar about that timbre.

Turning around in your position, you saw an expensive-looking man in a tight-fitting suit, his face sporting an expression of apparent delight, though you couldn't easily tell if it was due to your analogy, the children, or some deeper reason. You glanced quickly, searching for the relief bodyguard, who turned out to be out of position. You felt a touch of panic, but tried to approach the situation calmly.

— Excuse me, but this is a restricted area. The public is not allowed to enter unless I so permit. — You spoke firmly, leaving no room for argument. But the man didn't seem to be perturbed by your direct tone.

His smile, barely a subtle curl of his lips, remained intact as his eyes slowly scanned the scene in front of him. The precision with which he analyzed his surroundings alerted you; that kind of attention didn't befit a mere onlooker.

— I'm truly sorry for breaking the rules set by our miss — he said then, his tone laden with calculated difference. — But I couldn't contain my excitement… Nor could I miss the opportunity to see you work up close. It seemed like the closest way to fulfilling every loyal admirer's dream.

The term “loyal admirer” hung in the air, imbued with a weight you couldn't quite place. The way he had said it, with a disturbing mix of sincerity and reverence, sharpened your senses. Your fingers, still holding the paintbrush, twitched slightly as you searched your memory for any clue that might justify those words.

Suddenly, images began to emerge in your mind like a series of fleeting slides: that man's face appearing again and again among the crowds at every event, exhibition, and auction you had participated in. A constant but until now imperceptible presence, camouflaged among the attendees, among the shadows on the periphery, observing you with an insistence that, in retrospect, seemed chilling. And then, a name resonated in your thoughts like a distant but precise echo.

— Kang Hyun-Woo. — you said the name with a mixture of caution and certainty, carefully gauging his reaction.

The guy smiled. Not a casual or merely polite smile, but an expression filled with genuine and profound satisfaction, as if he had just received a long-awaited confirmation.

— It's quite an honor to be recognized. That an artist of your caliber not only remembers my name, but also captures my presence... that far exceeds my expectations. — His voice lowered a pitch, becoming more intimate, sharper.

— I couldn't miss the name of an elite buyer — you replied in a more neutral tone. Trying not to show your growing discomfort caused by his presence. — Although, I must admit, I would never think that a man like you, whose profession is linked to electronic systems and devices, would be an art enthusiast. — you add almost scathingly.

— Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, miss. You’d be surprised to know that art is also one of my passions — Such a statement is accompanied by hand gestures and somewhat exaggerated but measured expressions. It was strange, and even more so when I heard his next comment: — Or at least, I could say that it’s your art that fascinates me. Your pieces are simply exquisite, and each one is better than the last. — His idolization was simply on another level.

— Noona is a great painter. — one of the children suddenly spoke up, innocently intervening in this particular exchange. In fact, the sudden childish contribution brought an even wider smile to Kang's face.

— Right? She's simply the best painter of her generation, if not of all time. — he replied with satisfaction, turning to the little boy, who smiled at him as if nothing had happened.

You watched the scene in silence, thinking of a discreet way to get this guy dragged out and finally disturb the tranquility of your space. You didn't want anything too grotesque and inappropriate to happen in front of the children present. Before you could even begin to realize your thoughts and ideas, your savior arrived.

Heeseung glanced at you, then at the children sitting there painting. He knew he had to be careful with his actions, now that he had an audience of delicate little minds.

— Sir, I will ask you in the most peaceful way to accompany me to the exit. Users who violate the establishment's rules receive a penalty, and that will be your case. — He spoke in a measured voice, although the underlying severity was perceptible.

In a discreet movement, his hand closed around Hyun-Woo's wrist with a calculated pressure, enough to cause a subtle creaking in the joints. The other man's expression instantly tensed, his smile fading as his eyes widened with a mixture of disbelief and pain.

— I was just offering my admiration to the lady. I didn't mean to cause any trouble; my intentions are simply to personally pay my compliments to the artist who creates all the paintings hanging in my house. — Kang assured him, his tone forcedly calm, although the rigidity of his jaw and the hostility in his gaze toward Heeseung betrayed his pain and discontent.

Heeseung didn't let go of his wrist. The pressure of his fingers remained calculated, firm but not overtly violent, just enough to remind Hyun-Woo who was in control at the moment. His eyes remained sharp, cold, devoid of any trace of superficial courtesy.

— Admiration... — Heeseung repeated the word with a measured cadence, as if savoring it. — If that's the case, I would recommend that you limit your admiration to galleries, auction catalogs, and your acquisitions. Because if you again take on responsibilities that aren't yours... — He leaned in slightly, enough so that only Hyun-Woo could hear him. — I will make sure that your eyes never again know what it's like to look at one of my lady's works. — The tone was soft, almost intimate, but the implicit threat was unmistakable. The opponent sensed the weight of those words clearly, because his eyes narrowed slightly, and the line of his smile stiffened.

However, without letting him add anything else, Heeseung dragged him toward the exit, leaving you to continue the lessons with your young apprentices.

【★】

Your face lit up with excitement as you looked at the final results of your cute students' paintings. The secondary room of the gallery, designated for the workshop, was full of them, giving it a colorful and pleasant vibe, as they were displayed on the walls of the installation.

— They're getting better and better. — Heeseung comments, as he delights in watching your happy expression. And his delight doubled the moment you turned to him, flashing that wide smile of yours. You looked so proud.

— Yes, they really are. They already know so many more things and techniques than when the workshop started. They're incredible. — you boast proudly, as you walk around the room, eyeing each of your young apprentices' works.

Lee can't take his eyes off you, too entranced by the charm your person radiates, so naturally and effortlessly. Seeing you like this provokes so much in him, and he couldn't help himself, rising from the stool to discreetly approach you from behind. Once close, he leaned down to your level and fixed his gaze on the profile of your face, since you, for one, were too absorbed in those small paintings.

— Being taught by someone incredible can make you incredible too — he murmurs in an almost tender tone, a tone he would only allow himself to use with you. — Don't be so surprised. They're learning from you. It's obvious they'll end up being exceptional in the long run. Although... they'll never surpass their wonderful teacher. And if they do, I'll find a way to change that.

His words make a soft chuckle escape your lips; you couldn't help but find a certain amusement in the way this version of him contrasted so much with what many people see at first glance. The stoic and imposing man, whom many feared, became surprising sweet around you. Yet he still managed to make things more disconcerting when he had the chance, for example, his constant obsession with making you walk on clouds, only to then simply clip your wings, marking the limits of his professionalism.

— What's so funny? — he suddenly asks, looking at you with a frown, a clear manifestation of his confusion at your prolonged amusement.

— The fact that the mouth you use to shower me with praise is the same one that later utters words that break my heart, and also the same one that does nothing to finally meet mine. — you reply, your laughter gradually fading away and leaving your face with a more somber, almost expressionless expression.

You turn slowly, drawn almost instinctively to the source of that familiar, deep tension that usually surrounds you. Your eyes meet his, and the space between you shrinks to nothing. Your breaths mingle in the air that vibrates between you, heavy with something unspoken, something you both feel but that never quite materializes. His gaze, dark and penetrating, bores into yours, as if he could read every thought struggling to break free in your mind. But, as always, there's something holding him back. Something that prevents that line from finally being crossed.

Heeseung straightens with a barely perceptible sigh, his expression transforming into a mixture of resignation and regret. His eyes never leave yours for a second.

— I'm sorry — he murmurs in that deep, controlled voice that nevertheless betrays a hint of vulnerability. — I'm sorry for not being reckless enough to...

His voice trails off, but you understand perfectly what he's trying to say. That impulse to cross the line, to surrender to the inevitable, always clashes with his iron self-control.

— Save those words — you reply, your tone soft, but tinged with a tiredness that comes from the constant repetition of this same cycle. — It's always the same with you, Heeseung. The confusing signals, the words, the boundaries. — you add, taking a step back, intending to get away before that mix of desire and frustration ends up breaking something inside you.

But he reacts before you can. His hand catches your wrist in a swift, precise movement, and suddenly you feel him spin you around and propel you toward one of the tables. A small gasp escapes your lips when your body meets the cold surface, and before you can process it, he slides between your legs, occupying the space left by your labored breathing.

One of his hands rises with deliberate slowness to grasp your wrists and pin them behind your lower back. The other, however, rests on your jaw with a reverence that contradicts the firmness of his grip. His thumb brushes the line of your jaw, and the tension in his gaze is so palpable that you feel trapped in the dark abyss of his eyes.

— What do you mean by mixed signals? — he asks, his tone low and laden with something heavier than simple curiosity. His eyes darken even further when his thumb brushes over your skin in a gesture so intimate it takes your breath away. — Because as far as I know, I've made it very clear that I adore you. That you're my biggest weakness.

The intensity of his words makes your breath hitch and your heart race. But he doesn't pull away. Not this time.

— It's not just words. Words aren't enough if actions don't back them up, Lee Heeseung. — you whisper, your voice barely breaking as memories of the thoughtful response you gave Jin-Seo hours earlier during the workshop flood your mind.

He remains silent, but you can feel the tension in his body intensify. The conflict is evident in the way his eyes scan you, searching for something he perhaps can't even name.

— You're right. I can't go on without using actions to back up my words, can't I? — he asks rhetorically, looking at you with such intensity that it makes your heart flutter. That distinct glint in his gaze generates so much anticipation.

Then, with a slow, calculated movement, you see him lean toward you. His nose brushes yours, and his lips barely touch yours, so close yet so far away. The promise implicit in that touch sends a shiver down your spine. Your breath catches between you, and the moment seems stretched to the limit, on the verge of breaking at any second. But just as the chasm between you is about to close completely, a loud crash interrupts the moment.

Fire alarms and other people's screams echo through the gallery's main hall, scything the air with their piercing, urgent sound. Heeseung jerks away, going to look through the window. You can barely process what just happened as the sound of sirens continues to echo in your ears, marking the abrupt end of a moment that nearly redefined everything, and at the same time the beginning of what could be considered the most heartbreaking catharsis of your life.

— Tell me it's not what I think it is... — you say fearfully, your voice barely above a whisper, as you approach the same window where Heeseung is looking out.

He turns in your direction, his expression indecipherable to the naked eye, and that only seems to disconcert you. Drawing strength from where you didn't know you had it, you push him aside and finally look out the window. The burning glow in the distance is reflected in your gaze, tears flowing as so many years of your life flash before your eyes. Everything that defined you, all your achievements, goals, and dreams come true, were burning.

Your impulsiveness led you to stumble out of the back room, running in the direction where the fire had already spread. People ran desperately toward the emergency exit, while you headed straight for the heart of the fire. Your clouded, thoughtless mind made you see the scene as if it were unfolding in slow motion. The flames rose mercilessly, burning the infrastructure and everything in their path. The smoke alarms continued to blare, along with the terrified screams of the people. All of it became the soundtrack to such a tragedy.

Before you could enter, you felt yourself being pulled forcefully. You didn't bother to look at who it was; you didn't need to, and your brain certainly wasn't at its full capacity to stop and check that it was Heeseung.

— You can't go in there! The structure could collapse at any moment! — he exclaimed, flustered, and dragged you backward, away from the risk zone, pulling your body in the direction of the emergency exit in the garden.

— My paintings… I have to go get them… — your response comes out automatically, which is how your mind was working. Or at least it did until emotions took over and your screams deafened the eardrums of the man holding you. — Let me go, Heeseung! My whole world and life is in there, I have to go get my things! — you shout, abruptly twisting in Lee’s arms, struggling to make him release his firm grip on you and let you go rescue your precious creations.

But he doesn’t budge, and he wasn’t planning on doing so…

— There’s no point in you doing this! — he growls through gritted teeth, resisting your abrupt, almost aggressive movements, trying to neutralize them. — You can paint new paintings, you can acquire new materials and so on. All of those things are replaceable. But you aren’t! I won’t have another you if I let you go all the way there and put your life at risk! So don't ask me to let you go, because I'm not going to. — he declares resolutely, leaving no room for argument.

Without even giving you the chance to insist a little further, he easily lifts you up and throws you over his shoulder to carry you out of that place. As you walk toward the exit, you look around, watching the fire spread even to the secondary room, the same one that housed the creations of your young apprentices, their first steps into art, all those pleasant memories accumulating in your mind at that very moment. And soon, just as Heeseung had predicted, the structure began to collapse, yielding to the intensity of the fire, causing a resounding roar. Thus marking the extinction of that place you had forged with so much effort and taken to the top. It was the end of your world, the death of a part of you that might never be the same again.

【★】

Your gaze remained fixed on the table in front of you, but you weren't really looking at it. The cold metal beneath your fingers seeped into your skin, chilling you to the bone, but even that couldn't shake you out of that lethargic state. The voices around you were only a distant murmur, a background noise that faded before reaching your mind. All that remained was that dense, overwhelming emptiness that gripped your chest like a claw.

The sound of heels clicking firmly against the floor pulled you out of that mental fog. The echo spread through the room like a warning, each step calculated and confident, until the figure of a woman appeared in the doorway. Beautiful, impeccably dressed in a dark suit that accentuated her slender figure. Her hair was tied back with precision, not a single strand out of place. Her presence radiated authority and coldness.

Without saying a word, she pulled a badge from her jacket and placed it on the table, the scrape of plastic against metal breaking the awkward silence. You glanced at it only out of reflex, your eyes sliding over the engraved letters before she spoke.

— Seo Young-Mi. Prosecutor in charge of your case. — Her tone was direct, firm, but not lacking in subtle professional kindness.

You didn't respond. Your gaze had already shifted toward the tinted glass at the side of the room. You knew Heeseung was there. You felt it. That strange warmth that only he could make you feel, even in the midst of a disaster, was there, piercing the chill of the room. You could almost imagine his expression, the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers were probably clutching his own arms to keep from intruding into the room.

Young-Mi settled into the chair opposite you, crossing her legs with innate elegance. She rested her elbows on the table and interlaced her fingers. Her eyes scanned you carefully, reading every microexpression on your face.

— I know this might be difficult... — she began, softening her tone a little more, in an attempt to show some empathy, even if it was professional.

— But I need you to answer a few questions so we can continue the investigation. The interrogation will be recorded. If you feel uncomfortable at any point, you have the right to stop it.

Your hands clenched in your lap. The lump in your throat thickened, making it difficult to breathe. Young-Mi slid a notebook and pen across the table, waiting patiently.

— Let's start from the beginning — she continued, striking a posture that denoted her interest and attention. — What was the first thing you saw when the fire started?

A chill ran down your spine. The image of the fire burst into your mind with painful clarity: the flames devouring the walls, the air saturated with smoke and screams. The suffocating sensation of heat on your skin. The panic. The emptiness.

— It wasn't much... When the fire started, I was busy in the gallery's secondary room. I didn't find out about the fire until it was already well underway and the alarms went off. — you answered effortlessly, your voice coming out weak and ragged. Your breathing became erratic, your shoulders trembled.

Young-Mi didn't press that point further. He just jotted something down in his notebook and moved on to the next question. The rest of the conversation passed in a blurry stream of words and short answers, your mind disconnecting from each sentence as soon as it was spoken. All you really felt was that feeling of being watched through glass.

Finally, Young-Mi closed the notebook and slid it to the side.

— That will suffice for now. Thank you for your cooperation, and I'm sorry for your situation. — she concluded, his professional tone resurfacing. He stood with mechanical elegance, smoothing the wrinkles in his jacket as he headed for the door.

No sooner had he left the room than the door opened again... and this time it was him who entered.

Heeseung crossed the threshold with confident steps, but his expression was thick with tension. His gaze scanned your face, searching for something in your dull eyes that probably wasn't there. Without saying anything, he crouched down in front of you and held your face in his hands, his gentleness contrasting with the strength of his grip.

— Hey, you handled it well, princess. — he murmured in a surprisingly sweet tone, his thumb gently caressing your cheek in an attempt to comfort you.

Your throat tightened. A tremor ran through your lips as you leaned into his touch, letting the warmth of his skin seep into your own coldness. You closed your eyes, resting your cheek on his palm. His touch was the only thing that managed to stabilize the turmoil of internal chaos.

— Get me out of here, please, take me home... — you whispered, your voice breaking at the end of the sentence.

Heeseung took a deep breath. His fingers slid along your jawline, holding you as if he feared you might crumble at any moment.

— There's something I must do first, and then I can take you to rest. Do you think you can wait for me? It won't take too long, I promise. — he replied gently, though his gaze darkened with a mixture of guilt and resolve.

You didn't have the strength to argue, so you simply nodded slightly, your eyes narrowing as he leaned in a little closer and pressed a brief, warm kiss to your forehead.

When he made a move to withdraw, you didn't hesitate. You stood up almost reflexively, your footsteps following his without him having to ask. The door closed behind you with a hollow sound, but you focused only on the figure walking in front of you, his shoulders tense and his gait firm. It didn't matter where he went or what he had to do. In that moment, all you needed was to be near him.

The sound of your footsteps echoed empty in the cold hallways as you followed Heeseung, who walked with a firm, confident stride, as if everything that had happened was just a passing cloud already dissipating in his mind. However, the weight of what he had experienced continued to crush your chest. The images of the fire, the anguish of seeing your world reduced to ashes, remained stuck to your skin, like a ghost. But you couldn't show any of that. He was there, by your side, and all you could do was keep up with him, hoping his presence would soothe some of the pain inside you.

As you reached a particular door, Heeseung stopped without warning, turning to face you. The softness in his gaze didn't go unnoticed, despite the tension surrounding him.

— Please stay here. — he said in a voice that brooked no argument. Though he didn't speak loudly, there was something in his authority that made it clear: you couldn't follow him any further.

However, the way his eyes lingered on yours for a second, as if he were trying to say something without words, made you feel a strange mix of comfort and despair. You nodded wordlessly, as if your strength could no longer rebel. He had always been the one who led the way, the one who took the reins, and though that sometimes frustrated you, in that moment, you needed him.

— I won't be long. — Was the only thing she said before disappearing behind the door with the soft creak of the wood closing. You stood there, staring at the closed door.

It wasn't that you didn't want to wait. It was that you didn't know what else to do with your life, now that everything you'd built seemed to be crumbling around you. You headed to one of the nearby chairs, searching for something to anchor you to the present, even a minimal distraction. Your eyes fell to the floor, to the reflection of the light that slipped through the walls, seeking some solace in your surroundings.

The creaking of heels interrupted your trance, and you looked up to find Young-Mi walking in your direction with calculated elegance. Her bearing wasn't so distant, but there was something in her gait that told you she wasn't a woman you could ask for too much. Somehow, she sat down next to you with a naturalness that surprised you, and before you could react, she was already there, by your side.

— Oh, you're still here. — she pointed out, her voice soft but curious, the weight of the situation not allowing her to change the tone of her question.

You didn't know what to answer, so you just stared at the floor for a moment, not wanting to burden her with your thoughts.

— Yes, I'm waiting for Heeseung. — you murmured, barely able to raise your voice. As if saying her name would lighten something that was worrying you, even for a moment.

Young-Mi, who was watching your movements closely, nodded slowly, unhurriedly, as if she had already expected a similar answer. She didn't pressure you or insist, something that, without knowing why, relaxed you slightly. Instead, she remained there, still, waiting silently.

Shortly after, he broke the silence, with a gentle demeanor and something she might have considered the perfect opportunity to speak.

— I must tell you something, taking advantage of the fact that I finally have the pleasure of seeing you in person, — she began, in the same gentle voice, as if she were opening a window in the middle of a storm. — Heeseung talks a lot about you, about how incredible your art is. He says you're able to convey what others can't, that every brushstroke is filled with emotion, something... unique.

Your eyes, they rose toward her, even though you didn't want to listen. You didn't want someone talking to you about your art, not in this place, not after what had happened. However, Young-Mi continued calmly, unbothered by the silence that enveloped you.

— I visited your gallery once. And I confess that what Heeseung said isn't an exaggeration. Your work has something special. — She paused, observing your face with curiosity, perhaps trying to understand your distance.

At that moment, the pain of loss crept into your chest again, stronger. It wasn't just the fire anymore. It was the disappearance of something that was a part of you. But with the same calm with which she had begun, Young-Mi leaned toward you, as if understanding something beyond words.

— I understand this isn't the best time to talk about it, but I wanted you to know. — she said softly, looking at you with some empathy and a certain regret. To which you simply remained silent.

The lump in your throat was so tight you couldn't speak. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, all you managed to utter was a brief, if somewhat empty, response.

— Thank you — you replied softly, your lips sealed in a forced smile, devoid of any real emotion. Had it been any other circumstance, things would definitely be different. — But... Please, I'd prefer you not talk about the gallery anymore. Not even about that.

Young-Mi nodded, making no further comment, as if she respected you more than you could express. In an act of tacit understanding, she remained silent, giving you the space you needed.

Elsewhere, inside the room, the conversation between Heeseung and Jongseong continued:

— The fire is under control, but the evidence still doesn't seem clear. The teams are still checking, but we have to wait to see what else can be found, — Jongseong commented, pointing at some notes on the table. — Hopefully, we'll be able to better understand what happened once we have Jake to review the recordings from the other side of the location.

— Okay, keep me updated on that. I'll be on the lookout, Lee replied, his tone firm and serious.

— I made sure they prioritized this case. For you… and for her — he added, a hint of respect in his voice. Heeseung looked up, his dark eyes reflecting a glimmer of recognition and gratitude. — Also, here are the details of the past mission and its loose ends, too. — Heeseung stated, extending a document to the major, who took it.

— Thanks, Jong. — Was all he said, but Jongseong understood the true weight behind that word.

Without another word, Heeseung pushed himself away from the table and left the room. His eyes instantly found your figure, sitting next to Young-Mi. The prosecutor spoke in a low voice, but as soon as she saw him leave the room, she stood up with a slight nod and walked into the room from which the other party had emerged.

Your gaze met his, and without needing to say a word, you stood up and approached. He looked at you with that mixture of concern and tenderness that had become so persistent in recent hours, and without hesitation, he touched your cheek with his fingertips.

— Ready to go? — he asked gently, his tone more like a whisper than a question. You just nodded. And when he took your hand, you allowed him to lead you out of that room.

When you truly care about someone, the last thing you want is to experience the pain of seeing them suffer, but... How do you make someone stop suffering like that? That was the question Heeseung had been constantly asking himself over the past few weeks, ever since the day of the fateful fire that took away what you loved most. He's done nothing but divide his responsibilities between his work as an agent and watching you deal with what could be considered the deepest depression he's ever seen you experience. And yes, he's seen you go through many bad times, but this, this was beyond comparison; even he could sense that.

Of course, as your bodyguard, he genuinely cares; after all, ensuring your well-being is his job. But, in his role as the man who so adores your existence, he'd been racking his brain trying to come up with something to help you cope or completely alleviate your current discomfort. But whatever he could come up with, the first step would be to get you out of your room…

Heeseung entered the house with firm but silent steps. The sunlight filtering through the windows filled the entryway with a soft, golden glow, bathing everything around him in a warm glow. His eyes scanned the room, pausing at the foot of the stairs as he looked longingly up to the upper floor. Without wasting a single second, he climbed up there, making his way towards your room.

He carefully opened your door, and just as he expected, upon entering, he found you sleeping soundly. Your cold, dark bedroom somehow radiated the sadness that dwelled within you, the same sadness he'd so frequently witnessed in your eyes these past few days. With light steps, he approached, reached for the nightstand beside your bed, and turned on the small lamp he knew was there. As he did so, it cut through the darkness in the room, and the first thing he saw was your face twist into an expression of disgust, clearly due to the light that suddenly shone directly into your face.

He smiled inwardly, finding your gesture so adorable. Then he simply crouched to the side and reached up to brush away a few strands of hair that had fallen into your face. He also ran his thumb between your eyebrows, gently caressing the area until your frown relaxed and your peaceful expression returned. Seeing you like this, he felt warmth flood his chest and a subtle tingling in his stomach. He liked you so much, there was no doubt about it, he couldn't deny it to himself, not even if he tried.

— Princess, the sun's up. Time to wake up. — His voice echoed in a soft murmur, trying not to be too rude when waking you up. And he succeeded; he saw you open one eye and then close it again.

— So what... am I going to photosynthesize or something? — you replied in a sleepy, deep voice, as you shifted between the sheets, shifting positions, now facing him with your back to him.

Perplexed, he admired your sleeping form for a few seconds; sometimes he forgot how sharp your tongue could be. Choosing not to be defeated, he straightened up to walk to the window and, mentally praying that you wouldn't insult him, he slid the curtains aside, causing the room to fill with the warm light of day.

— Lee Heeseung, close that fucking curtain and let me sleep in peace! — Your annoyed voice echoed in the bedroom, and he could only laugh as he watched you cover yourself from head to toe with the blanket.

— Get up, miss. You've got a busy day ahead of you today — he replied, half-amused and half-firm, reaching over to tug at your blanket. But you were more reluctant, clinging to it and not letting him move it. — Come on, I really have a good day planned for you. Get out of bed. — he added, his tone so insistent it seemed almost like a plea. But even that didn't stop him from struggling with the blanket.

— Let go of the fucking blanket, and I'll get up voluntarily. — you said, finally peeking your head out, giving him an annoyed look. To which he raised an eyebrow at you, not trusting your word.

— How do I know this isn't some trick on your part? — he inquires, momentarily giving up on pulling at the soft material, but not completely letting go.

— First, because I would never refuse a plan with you. Second, because you're stronger than me, and if you keep pulling at this thing, you'll end up taking it off and discovering that my panties are the only thing I'm wearing right now. — you warn, somewhat annoyed. And that last reason was enough for her to finally let go of the blanket without further struggle and walk away.

Obviously, she was upset to hear such a revelation, but she made an effort to act normal and maintain her composure.

— Okay, then... go get ready. I'll wait for you downstairs. — She excused herself somewhat nervously and then simply left the room, giving you some privacy.

【★】

The crunch of gravel under your boots mingled with the dry echo of bullets hitting the targets. The warmth of the sun filtered through the scattered clouds, enveloping the training grounds in an atmosphere filled with tension and constant noise. Gunshots rang through the air, some sharper than others, followed by the metallic crackle of bullets hitting their targets. You walked at a steady pace, but not without casting annoyed glances around, clearly annoyed by the surroundings you found yourself in.

— Really? It wasn't enough for you to force me to get up early, and now I also have to endure this hellish sun? — you muttered, pushing back a strand of hair that the wind had blown across your face.

Heeseung, walking slightly ahead of you, turned his head with a lopsided smile, the one you knew so well and that, unfortunately for you, always managed to disarm you.

— If you keep complaining, I'll make you walk around the training grounds until you forget how to complain. — His tone was light, but his eyes held a hint of mischief that made you frown.

— You wouldn't dare. — you blurted out, with a mixture of disbelief and veiled threat. For his part, Heeseung just laughed softly, a low sound that somehow shook you.

— You think so? — he retorted, tilting his head to one side.

You shot him a dirty look, but before you could continue reproaching him, he raised a hand and pointed toward a farther part of the field, where a covered structure stood.

— Don't worry, you won't be under the sun. Let's go to target practice. — he added simply.

You stopped abruptly, your eyebrows raising in surprise as you turned your head to him.

— Target practice? — you repeated, almost unable to believe it. Heeseung nodded, watching you with that serene yet penetrating expression that always made you feel like he could read your every thought.

— You once said you were curious about what it felt like to shoot a gun," he explained matter-of-factly, as if it were the most casual comment in the world. "I thought this would be a good opportunity.

You continued staring at him, trying to remember when you'd said that. And then you remembered. It had been during a casual conversation, one random night in your living room, while he was cleaning his gun after returning from a mission. You had quietly mentioned that you'd always been curious about that sensation: the weight of the gun in your hands, the vibration of the recoil, the dry sound of the shot breaking the air. It had been a fleeting confession, something you never thought he'd actually take into account.

— How do you still remember that? — you asked, your tone softening without you even realizing it. Heeseung shrugged, shifting his gaze to the field for a second before looking back at you.

— I always listen to you. Even when it's things you say quietly, or details that don't seem important to you, but are to me — he replied with a hint of sincerity that lodged itself in your chest. He paused for a second, his gaze softening. — I can't help it."

You were speechless, feeling a warm surge of emotion lodge itself in your core. But before you could formulate a response, he took a few steps further into the facility, and you had to jog to catch up.

The atmosphere changed as soon as they walked through the door into the shooting range. The sound of gunfire became more subdued, muffled by the thick walls of the structure. Several paper targets were lined up at the end of a long, narrow hallway, pierced by holes of varying sizes. The metallic scent of gunpowder wafted through the air, thick and pungent.

Heeseung approached a table where an arsenal of weapons rested and picked up a sleek, black pistol, along with a pair of protective headphones and goggles. With fluid movements, he picked up the weapon and checked the magazine before extending it to you, offering it to you with a calm but expectant expression.

— Ready to try it? — His tone was gentle, but his eyes sparkled with a hint of anticipation, perhaps excited to see you experience something new, something that wasn't quite your style.

You hesitated for a second, your eyes scanning the polished line of the weapon and then returning to his face. You couldn't help but feel a slight chill run down your spine at the thought of holding a real gun. But when you saw the confidence in the way he looked at you, something inside you settled.

— What if I miss? — you murmured, taking the gun gently, feeling its cold weight in your hands.

Heeseung took a step closer, helping you put on the protective gear, then wrapping his hands around yours to adjust the grip. The warmth of his fingers on your skin made you feel a tingle that spread to the base of your neck. He parted your legs with his foot, straightening your back properly.

— You don't have to get it right away. Just trust me, you'll see you won't get bored. Besides, even I didn't get it right the first time, so no pressure, princess. — he assured calmly, his voice just inches from your ear as he positioned himself behind you to help you calibrate and lock onto the target in front of you.

Only, as expected, the closeness and pressure of his body against yours, his hands on your waist, his warm breath caressing your cheek, and his low, raspy voice— These were enough to make you nervous, so much so that your hands were trembling slightly. And unfortunately for you, Lee noticed.

— If you keep shaking like that, you're definitely not going to hit the shot. — he whispered huskily at the edge of your ear, causing an electric current to travel along your spinal cord.

— Then get out of the way and let me do it on my own. — you replied defensively, trying to hide your nervousness. Heeseung glanced at you and just smiled, giving no indication that he was planning to leave you.

— I'm your bodyguard. I'm literally watching your back to keep you steady in case the force of the shot pushes you back. — His response was accompanied by a readjustment of his grip on your waist. However, you ignored him, simply focusing on the target in front of you, maintaining your position and your gaze fixed forward. — Okay, this is a good position, pull the trigger when you feel ready. — he adds, and no sooner had he finished speaking than the first shot you fired.

The bullet, to the surprise of even the man behind you, actually hit the target. You soon heard a contemplative whistle, and even applause from him.

— I guess it was beginner's luck on my side. — you hasten to comment, hoping to preempt any praise your precious attorney was already thinking of heaping.

— Beginner's luck or not, that was incredible, Princess. It was very natural. Do you want to try it again? — he asks, and with a quick nod you respond, then get into position.

And so it was a second time, and several more times you continued shooting, missing and hitting, but especially enjoying the activity and Heeseung's company. It wasn't something you'd thought you'd enjoy doing, but it was quite therapeutic… somehow, and it helped improve your mood. It was stress-relieving and exciting at the same time. Besides, if there was one thing particularly remarkable about all this, it was seeing Heeseung more open-minded, less stoic and proper.

Eventually, once you'd finished emptying a second cartridge, you began to take off your earmuffs and glasses, handing everything to Heeseung, along with the gun, for him to sort through. You'd had enough; you were even a little tired now that the adrenaline rush was starting to wear off.

— So what next? What else is on the itinerary? — you asked, as you both walked back to the facility's exit.

Then, once you're outside, Heeseung suddenly stops in his tracks and looks at you. There's a slight hint of suggestiveness gleaming in his eyes. That detail doesn't go unnoticed, as does the way he then shifts his attention and gaze toward the rustic training ground not far from you.

— You're going to run ten laps around the field. — His voice and expression, at first glance, reveal apparent seriousness, and after his declaration, he suddenly adopts a firm, almost strict stance. — It's required to unlock the next activi-

Before he could add anything else, you were already running toward the car, dramatically shouting "No," with a prolonged "No," causing the older man to burst out laughing as he watches you struggle to open the door, trying to escape from him and his plan, which was nothing more than a joke. He just wanted to test the waters, see what kind of reaction he'd get from you, and without a doubt, the result was endearing.

【★】

On such a hectic day, which started early, filled with fun activities, delicious food, and moments you'd surely remember forever, the mix of warm orange and red hues was finally beginning to settle in the sky. A few clouds embraced the sun, as if wishing to bid it farewell as it set, the afternoon felt so light. You were tired, yes, but no less happy. You couldn't even remember the last time you'd deviated so abruptly from your routine.

And now you understood why people say it's always good to try and do new things.

Heeseung had put so much effort into it, everything so perfectly planned, from the places you visited, which were one better than the last. You'd never seen beyond the same old streets, you'd missed out on much of the charm of your own city, but thanks to him, that had changed. Besides, the day, although well-planned around you, had also had the opportunity to explore new shades and nuances in the man who dedicated his entire day off to trying to make you feel good and smile again.

During the depressive episode triggered by the loss of the gallery after the fire, you hadn't been aware of how much you'd truly shut down. You'd been so depressed that even making art at home didn't cheer you up. But with this change of scenery, and Heeseung taking matters into his own hands, everything seemed better.

— Are you falling asleep, or why do you suddenly seem so quiet? — His warm voice suddenly cut through the silence inside the car, interrupting your thoughts and recollections of the day. — We're not done yet. I need you with energy for a little longer, okay? — he added, simultaneously patting your thigh gently to wake you up.

The soft noise of the engine filled the silence between you, providing a momentary calm before you decided to say something.

— I'm not one for surprises, and yet here I am, inwardly excited about whatever the man I like so much has prepared to cheer me up. — A soft murmur is your response, as you look out the car window. The city flashed by outside the windows, a blur of light and shadow.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips at your murmur. He knew you didn't like surprises, but he also knew that, deep down, you appreciate the effort and thought that goes into them.

— Just wait and see, okay? I promise you won't regret it. — he stated, casting a fond but brief glance at your facial profile.

After what seemed like a torturous eternity, the car was finally being parked on a sidewalk; Heeseung hurried to get out and walk around the vehicle, going to your side to open the door and carefully help you out of the passenger seat.

— What's this? — you asked almost automatically, confusion surfacing now that you were both standing outside what at first glance appeared to be a well-decorated establishment, with modern designs and structures. Heeseung didn't bother to clarify your growing doubts, just took your hand and led you inside.

The place was divided into two floors: The first floor had a reception area and was a spacious, well-lit facility. You took a thorough look around, scanning the place and seeing how it stirred certain feelings in you.

— Let's go upstairs, that's where the real important part is. — Without giving you a second to react, he was already taking your hand and leading you upstairs to the second floor.

The first thing you noticed when you entered the place was the available space. Then your gaze inevitably fell on the things in that area. It was equipped with tables piled with all kinds of art materials, from canvases to easels, which were clearly new. And the walls were blank, presenting a different kind of canvas. It was like your old studio, maybe bigger.

With tears in your eyes, you turned to look at him. Vulnerability and a host of indescribable emotions radiating in your eyes.

— Please, don't tell me you... — You couldn't even finish your sentence without your voice breaking.

He saw the emotions reflected on his face and how your voice caught in your throat. His heart contracted with happiness and worry at the same time.

— Yes, I did — he admitted softly, leaning closer so he could admire your beautiful eyes up close. — I know everything you lost that day. Your art, your space, your identity as an artist, and- — He couldn't finish either, but in his case, it was because you interrupted him.

— Are you telling me you really bought this place? — you inquire, immediately looking at him with wide eyes, at the same time bringing your hands to your mouth, covering it in excitement and surprise.

He nods, never taking his gaze from yours. He could see the surprise and gratitude in your eyes, and it made his heart swell with affection.

— Yes, that's exactly what I did. I was truly so excited. I wanted to give you a place to call your own again, a space where you could create, be inspired, and heal.

— You shouldn't have done something like that. — you complain, slightly embarrassed, but no less moved and grateful for his empathy and support.

With excitement, you set about exploring the place. The tables with materials. They had the exact brands of paint you'd always used. The brushes and everything else were also from brands and designs you loved so much. And damn, you felt like your heart was going to burst with how fast it was beating, your emotions so intensely on edge, realizing that he'd really put so much care and effort into giving you back what has defined you so much in life and in your artistic career.

He followed you as you explored the space, watching you discover the carefully chosen materials. He knew your preferences down to the smallest detail: the specific brand of paint, the type of brushes you preferred, even the specific texture of the canvas you liked the most.

— You shouldn't be too surprised that I hit the nail on the head — he murmured, suddenly interrupting your exploration and capturing your full attention. He leaned a little closer, his voice low and gentle, adding, — I did a lot of research. I wanted you to feel at home, like in your old studio. Every detail was chosen with you in mind. — He paused momentarily, his eyes searching yours before adding, — I want you to be happy again, here.

— Hey, an art studio isn’t exactly cheap to create, — you reply, embarrassed at the sudden reminder of reality. — I’ll pay you back when I get the chance. — you assert resolutely, but he just laughs softly, shaking his head.

— Don’t even think about it. It’s not a loan, it’s a gift. I have more than enough resources, and seeing you happy and painting again is worth every penny I spent on this place. — he replies, looking at you seriously, trying to emphasize his firmness and refusal to accept anything in return.

A lump suddenly formed in your throat, the feeling of comfort filling you completely, as did a deep appreciation for the other.

— You’re so good to me. — you murmur softly, avoiding his gaze, tears welling up in your eyes.

It was then that Heeseung leaned closer. His finger trailed under your chin with a touch so gentle it made the air thicken between you. He forced your gaze up, and your eyes locked with his, dark and charged with an emotion so raw it almost made your knees weak. His voice, low and drawling, vibrated with an emotional depth that seemed to take even him by surprise.

— You don’t know how much your smile and wholeness mean to me. For once, accept something without arguing or thinking you owe it to someone. — he whispered, and the way his eyes gave you no respite made heat rise up your neck.

The tone of his voice and the intensity in his gaze shot through you like a shock. You felt your lungs gasp for air as, from one second to the next, he lifted you up with alarming ease. Your legs reflexively wrapped around his waist, your arms slid around his neck as his hands held you with a firmness that shook your senses. The way he held you, with that mixture of urgency and need, made something inside you clench.

The rapid beat of his chest vibrated against yours, the heat of his body penetrating the layers of clothing. His breathing, rapid and ragged, brushed your ear as his lips lowered just to the crook of your neck, but didn't quite touch you. His self-control hung by a thread; you felt it in the tension of his muscles, in the way his fingers dug lightly into the skin of your back.

— Thank you for this and for everything you've done or do for me. — you mumbled, your voice breathy and shaky against his ear.

His response was to wrap his arms more tightly around you, burying his face in your neck as he breathed in your scent with a depth that made you shudder. His body visibly relaxed, as if simply holding you like that had broken down the last barriers he'd kept standing. But the way his hands slowly ran down your back, up the line of your spine with almost tortuous precision, made it clear he wasn't completely calm.

— You're wonderful... — you murmured against his cheek as your fingers moved up to his face.

You held his face in your hands and let your thumbs brush over the warm skin of his cheeks. Heeseung closed his eyes for a second, leaning into your touch as if he needed it to keep breathing. When he opened them again, his pupils were dilated, and a dark shadow crossed the depths of his gaze. There was emotion there, something pure, brutal, and blatantly transparent that made you press closer to him.

— Don't look at me like that. — you stammered, feeling the blush spread across your face and the tension growing between you like an electric field.

But he didn't look away. On the contrary, his eyes slid slowly over your face, lingering on the line of your lips, on the trembling of your lips.

The sound of your breathing. His hand moved to your cheek, his thumb tracing a slow, delicate path over the flushed skin of your cheekbone. His smile was faint, almost dangerous.

— Like what? Like I'm looking at the person who means more to me than anything else in this world? — His words were a knife-edge to your chest, each one imbued with devastating conviction.

Your breathing became erratic. Your fingers descended to his neck, and you felt the tension vibrating beneath your touch.

— Please don't say things that make my heart race, only to break it when you decide to return to your usual limits. — you warned him, your voice thick with vulnerability and exhaustion. You didn't want to go through the same old cycle, not this time.

Heeseung slowly shook his head, a dark, intense smile on his lips. He carried you in his arms until you were sitting on the cold surface of a table, his hands resting on either side of your hips, enclosing you between his body and the wood beneath you. He lowered his head until his forehead touched yours, his labored breathing hitting your parted lips.

— What if I told you this isn't one of those times? That no more limits and reality checks. — His voice was a harsh whisper, each word heavy with intent.

— Don't just say it, prove it. — your words came out as a challenge, an attempt to encourage him to move forward, while your eyes were fixed on his.

So, Heeseung didn't hesitate any longer. He closed the distance and his lips crashed against yours in a kiss overflowing with pent-up hunger. The pressure of his mouth was immediate and possessive, his tongue sliding between your lips with a confident, brazen rhythm that stole your breath.

Your response was automatic; Your arms closed tightly around his neck as your fingers tangled in his hair. The way he deepened the kiss, with calculated movements and almost absurd precision, sent a shudder down your stomach and resonated in your belly. A strangled moan escaped your throat as his hands moved down to your waist, pulling you closer to him. He separated his lips from yours, only to trail them down your jawline, leaving a series of open kisses that burned directly into your skin. His tongue traced the outline of your neck, followed by a bite hard enough to leave you trembling.

— I really waited so long for this. — Your breathing was shallow, your chest rising and falling rapidly as your fingers closed in his hair, unconsciously tugging at the strands.

— Too long. — he agreed, his voice vibrating against your skin.

— Are you going to make it up to me? — You gasped, your lips brushing against his as you spoke.

Heeseung laughed against your neck, his deep chuckle sending vibrations straight to your core.

—I'm going to make it up to you for every agonizing moment of holding back. — he stated with unwavering certainty, his hands trailing down the curve of your back to your hips.

His mouth returned to yours, this time with relentless intensity. He kissed you with hunger and need as his hands slid beneath the fabric of your shirt. The way his fingers grazed the bare skin of your back made your body arch toward him, seeking more, needing more.

— Too many clothes~ — he whispered against your mouth, and before you could respond, his hands moved up to undo the barrier of fabric with one precise motion, and with that same expertise, he unclasped your bra, setting it aside, discarded along with your shirt.

The way his eyes slowly scanned the exposed skin made heat shoot through your core.

— And I made sure to dress lightly. — you reply teasingly, your lips curving into a suggestive smile as your eyes bore into his.

— Clever girl. — he murmurs, a spark of approval in his eyes. His fingers skim your waist before sliding to the button of your jeans. With unnerving skill, he unbuttons it and hooks his thumbs into the fabric, pulling with a fluid, confident motion.

He slides the jeans down your hips, his pace slow, almost reverential. His fingers brush your skin on the way down, generating a fiery tingle that makes you catch your breath. But he doesn't rush. He pauses to kneel and slowly unbutton your boots, each touch leaving a trail of heat over your skin. Once your jeans fall to the floor, his eyes scan the image of you in nothing but your panties. His breathing becomes heavy and ragged, while his gaze darkens with need.

— Fuck... — he exhales, his pupils dilated as he devours you with his eyes. — I knew you'd look beautiful, but... this is beyond my wildest dreams.

His husky voice fills the air between you, laden with an adoration that sends shivers down your spine. His fingers trace the curve of your thigh, barely a touch, as he seems to debate whether to continue or surrender to you.

— I'm debating whether to touch you or kneel and worship you because you truly are a goddess... My goddess. — he declares with an intensity that makes you shudder involuntarily, his eyes anchored to yours as a malicious smile curves your lips. The way you smile, as if he owned you completely, only fuels the fire in his gaze.

Without breaking eye contact, you lie down on the table, stretching with a slowness that borders on sensual. The cold wood beneath your back contrasts with the heat burning on your skin. You display yourself before him without a trace of shame, and the gleam in his eyes, darkened by desire, makes you shudder.

He begins to unbutton his shirt. His fingers work with deliberate slowness, revealing every inch of taut, firm skin. In the dim light, you begin to notice the subtle scars that adorn his torso, silent traces of a past filled with battles and danger. They're old, fading with time, but still visible enough to tell stories without words. And somehow, that only makes him more attractive. Every mark, every line on his skin is proof of his strength, his dedication, and the knowledge of everything he's endured awakens in you an even more intense desire.

When the shirt falls to the floor, his breathing is harsh, his chest rising and falling sharply. His hands move down to his belt, but before he can do anything else, you slowly sit up, as if some invisible force is pulling you towards him.

— Wait, I want to help. — you offer, your voice laden with a low, seductive tone.

You approach him and, with a mischievous smile, replace his hands with yours. Your fingers slide over the leather, unbuckling his belt with a sensuality that renders him completely immobile. His breathing becomes heavier, his jaw tense as he watches your every move.

— You're making it difficult to maintain any semblance of gentlemanly behavior. — he whispers, his hands returning to your hips, trapping you in a touch as subtle as it is charged with intent.

— I don't want to seem too innocent... — you murmur softly as your fingers slide down the loop of his jeans, undoing the button with deliberate precision. The zipper slides down slowly, the sound almost imperceptible but encapsulating silent promises. Your eyes remain fixed on his, defiant yet vulnerable. — Not for someone who surely isn't used to delicate women like me.

A hiss escapes his lips as your fingers brush the exposed skin beneath the hem of his jeans. The tension between you feels like an electric current, vibrating in the air. His hand rises to your cheek, brushing the pad of his thumb over your lower lip in a slow, reverent caress.

— Delicate? — he repeats, his tone thick with disbelief, his eyes darkening with desire and tenderness.

— It's my way of expressing that this is the first time I've been in a situation like this. — you confess, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as you continue to pull down his pants, your hands grazing the contours of his hips as you slide them down his legs.

His eyes soften at your confession, but the spark of desire in them doesn't go out. He helps you remove his pants, standing before you in his boxers, his breathing heavy as his gaze scans every inch of your body with barely contained hunger.

— Princess, I am truly honored to be the one to experience this with you. — His low, husky voice caresses the air between you.

Your breathing quickens as he moves closer, his fingers brushing the skin of your hips, sliding down the waistband of your panties. His closeness clouds your mind, the heat radiating from his body, enveloping you.

— Showing shamelessness will be my way of hiding the fact that I might disappoint you with my lack of experience. — you murmur, your voice cracking slightly under the mixture of nerves and anxiety.

He gently tilts your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. The intensity in his gaze momentarily takes your breath away.

— Impossible... — he firmly denies. — Do you realize how fucking sexy you are right now? Vulnerable and yet totally self-confident — His hands slide agonizingly slowly down your waist, his thumbs caressing the exposed skin with slow strokes. His mouth descends to your neck, leaving a warm kiss before his teeth graze your skin with a light bite that draws an involuntary sigh from you. — And trust me, even if it's your first time, how could you disappoint me, darling? Nerves, inexperience... only make this moment more sincere, more intimate.

His mouth continues lower, tracing a burning path down your neck to your collarbone. His tongue grazes your skin before sucking gently, leaving a warm tingle that spreads throughout your body. Your hands grip his shoulders, your nails digging lightly into his skin as he leaves another soft bite on your collarbone, followed by a wet kiss that makes you gasp.

— I really want to do it with you. — you reaffirm in a shaky whisper, urgency pulsing in every word.

His eyes darken even further, his lips curving into a smile heavy with satisfaction. He leans toward you, brushing his nose against yours before capturing your lips in a deep, demanding kiss. His tongue slides between your lips, exploring with a sensuality that makes you arch toward him, seeking more. His breath mingles with yours, his hands traveling down your back, sliding over the smooth exposed skin, brushing your hair.

— Then let’s do this... — he whispers against your lips, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. — Lie back, and let me show you how good this can be.

He gently guides you back, making you lie down on the table. The cold of the wood contrasts with the scorching heat of his body on yours. His hands travel up your thighs, slowly parting them as his mouth returns to your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses that descend dangerously to your tits. His tongue circles your skin, his teeth delicately graze a nipple before sucking, drawing a breathy moan from you.

Your hands find his back, sliding over his tense muscles as he moves down your abdomen, his mouth following the path of his hands. Your panties are at the limit of his fingers, and he looks at you with a mixture of devotion and lust. He took his time, sliding the fabric down your legs in a slow cadence, his touch soft and reverent. He tossed them aside and stepped back for a moment to gaze down at you, completely naked and trusting. His eyes darkened with desire, but he maintained a tender expression.

— You're absolutely beautiful. — More than a compliment, it's a genuine statement. He was fascinated by you and your gorgeous body.

— You flatter me. — you reply, letting out a soft chuckle as you lean up on your elbows so you can look at him. He chuckles softly, his eyes crinkling as he appreciates your modest chuckle. He leans closer again, and his fingers hook through your legs to separate them further.

— There's no flattery involved, these are more than just words — he assured, his fingers tracing tantalizing patterns on the inside of your thighs, causing your skin to prickle and your pussy to ache with need for his touch. — You look stunning this way : open, trusting, and eager. You, in all your splendor, that makes you more beautiful than you could ever imagine. — he affirms, and his caresses become more intense and difficult to bear as he approaches the center of your legs, which throbs eagerly for his attention.

— And soon, I'll be moaning your name, also christening this new art studio. — you add, wanting quell the burning excitement with humor.

Heeseung threw his head back with a deep, genuine laugh at your bold addition, his eyes shining with joy and desire. You never ceased to amaze him.

— Fuck, you're perfect — he moaned, leaning down to place a hot kiss just above your knee, his hand continuing to torture you with slow caresses on your inner thigh. — Do you really think you'll be moaning my name soon?"

— Maybe... — you replied, smiling mischievously. His teasing smile widened at your expression. He knew that smile was dangerous : mischievous yet innocent.

— What if I told you I'm good with my mouth? — He watched your reaction closely, his fingers unconsciously parting your legs further.

— Well, if you're that good a kisser, I have no doubt you'd do wonders using it down there, between my legs. — you respond shamelessly, simultaneously adjusting yourself to rest your feet on the edge of the table and spread yourself even more obscenely for him. His smirk widens, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Without wasting another second, he kneels between your legs, still grinning, and declares,

— I bet I can make you scream.

— I bet the same. — you reply mockingly, though deep down you tremble with anticipation at the sight of him kneeling, his face between your legs, his warm breath fanning your most intimate area.

Heeseung smirked, aware of the effect he was having on you without even doing much of anything. His hands slid under your thighs, tilting you closer to the reach of his mouth. With the first contact, he took his time, licking and sucking at your folds, striving to learn what made you gasp and squirm. When he found that sweet spot, he zeroed in, his tongue swirling and pressing against your clit almost desperately, causing your hips to buck toward him, seeking more. His lips closed around your swollen bud, sucking hard.

Your breaths became ragged as his hands gripped your hips tightly, making sure to keep you in place as he sucked hungrily on your clit.

— Mmph! Heeseung~ — you moaned softly, pressing your hands to his head, letting your fingers tangle in his hair. Your back arched off the table, and your abdomen tightened as your chest rose and fell rapidly with labored breaths.

For his part, Heeseung let out a satisfied hum, the sound reverberating against your warm core and making you gasp even louder. He loved hearing his name on your lips, and even more so the way your body responded to him. Without any warning, he slid two fingers through your soaked entrance, your warm, bulbous walls welcoming him with a delicious squeeze. Immediately, he began probing your insides, skillfully curling his digits to reach that spot that would make your eyes roll back.

— Oh! Wait... — you whimpered at how right his action was, and how good it felt. But Heeseung didn't stop. Understanding perfectly well that he really shouldn't stop; it was a normal reaction to the unexpected intrusion of his fingers into your sensitive pussy.

He pushed his fingers deeper, parting them slightly, scissoring them to stretch you. He captured your clit between his lips once more, sucking gently as his fingers worked their magic inside you.

— Babe? — he alluded suddenly, his eyes searching yours, wanting to make sure everything was in perfect order with you.

— I'm fine. Don't stop~ — you replied between moans. To which Lee groaned softly, loving your simple response.

He added another finger, stretching you further, preparing and stimulating your sex as much as necessary. He could feel the muscles in your thighs tense, your moans grow louder, and your entire body begin to shake and writhe involuntarily on the table. He knew you were about to break. That's why he grew excited and twisted his fingers inside you more insistently, pressing on that spot that reduced you to a wet, trembling mess.

He looked up and witnessed the way your face contorted with pure pleasure, your eyes rolling back, your lips parted, letting out your sweet moans and noises, and those cheeks flushed with excitement more than shyness. He was fascinated by every tiny detail of you as you were sexually pleasured. He wanted more of that, more of you, he wanted to take you to the edge, make you succumb to him.

And he did it, he got what he wanted, the moment you couldn't hold back, and you came undone on his fingers and in his mouth. Your moans echoed clearly. He felt your orgasm overflowing, your pussy clenching rhythmically around his fingers as you came undone. He moaned against you, savoring your pleasure before slowly pulling his fingers out and giving you one last lick on your clit.

With some care, he straightens and hovers over your small body lying on the table, still convulsing from the aftershocks of your orgasm. His hand lovingly caresses your face. His thumb runs over your flushed cheek as he watches you come down from your high. A satisfied smile touches his lips, knowing he's the reason for that dazed expression. He leans down and kisses you on the lips, hindering your attempt to catch your breath.

— Is my precious lady okay? — he asks as soon as he finishes kissing you. His voice is soothing and genuinely concerned for you.

— Don't worry, I'm okay. That was amazing, really good. — you reply breathlessly, still struggling to catch your breath, but there's a note of pleasure underneath.

A spark of pride lights his eyes at the sound of you, and the arc of his smile widens slightly. His gaze descends with deliberate slowness, tracing the contours of your naked body with a palpable desire that makes your skin prickle under his scrutiny. His hands still frame your face, but the heat of his palms seems to penetrate deeper, igniting something still burning inside you.

— I'm glad you liked it, baby. — he whispers with satisfaction.

The tension in the air thickens as you reach for him, sliding them over the skin of his abdomen to the beginning of his boxers. A strangled gasp escapes his lips when you hook your fingers in the elastic waistband, and his breath catches. The intensity in his gaze deepens, darkening with a desire that seems to consume the air between you.

He steps back slightly and allows you to pull the garment down, without resistance. His erect member springs free and stands against his abdomen.

— It’s your turn… — you declare with a softness laden with intent, your fingers tracing a lazy path up his hip. He looks up at you as you cup his erection in your hand and stroke it gently.

His chest expands with a heavy inhale as your fingers close around his thickness, and the way you position yourself on the edge of the table, lying sideways, while you move your hand up and down his penis. He tangles his fingers in your hair as you stroke him, and a moan escapes his throat. The sight of you completely naked and touching him is almost unbearable; he could burst and spill just looking at you.

— Am I doing this right? — you ask, looking up at him with bright eyes, full of excitement and innocence, causing his own eyes to soften at your question, his thumb brushing over your lower lip.

— You're perfect... — he assures without hesitation, and lowers his hand to yours on his member, showing you the perfect rhythm and pressure, the thing that drives him the most crazy. — Just like that. Fuck, you're good at this.

You suddenly see his free hand slide with delicious delicacy between your legs and his fingers caress the wet lips of your pussy, still sensitive from the orgasm he made you have with his mouth. Meanwhile, you continue pumping his length.

— Hey, you're supposed to be the one receiving now. — you chide, giving him a reproachful look, and he chuckles, his fingers stroking your folds possessively.

— Shh~ I'm enjoying it. — he mumbles. His hips buck slightly against your hand, almost fucking your fist. He feels him getting close, but he also wants you to squirm for him.

In the blink of an eye, you find yourself moaning; his fingers plunged in again without reservation, bursting into your pussy, caressing your walls, feeling them clench just like before. But he wasn't the only one doing more. In an unexpected move, you took his cock into your mouth, taking what you could, relaxing your jaw to accommodate him properly, at the same time parting your legs so he could better insert his fingers while you sucked him off.

His eyes widened in surprise and pleasure the instant you took him into your mouth, your wet, warm heat enveloping him completely. He let out a throaty moan, and his fingers thrust in and out at a steady, merciless pace, fervently rubbing against your walls, feeling them tighten and throb.

This was better than anything he'd ever experienced. Which led him to declare :

— You're going to be the death of me, I'm taking it for granted."

But your simple response was to moan around his cock, sucking more eagerly with each passing second, enjoying his reactions, the kinky wet sounds, and at the same time, how his fingers so expertly fuck your pussy. Heeseung stares at you with devotion as you suck him off relentlessly, his fingers sinking deeper into your heat, reaching that point that makes you choke around his member. He's never seen anything sexier in his entire life. Or maybe it was the effect produced by the simple fact that it was you. And, as if seeking to end his sanity, you tilt your head off the table, trying to take more of him into your mouth.

You seemed to like this much more than either of you could have expected.

His cock throbs against your tongue as you take him deeper, almost gagging, completely ignoring any gagging. Leaving him amazed by your enthusiasm and skill. With a moan, he curls his fingers inside you, precisely caressing that magical spot that makes your whole body shudder.

— Princess, you're going to make me cum... — he growls through gritted teeth.

You pull out of your mouth for a moment, just to catch your breath, but you don't stop servicing him with your hand, running your hands up and down the hot, saliva-covered skin. Your lips feel swollen and wet, but moaning while he continues to make you see stars with his fingers distracts you. Heeseung looks at you, his face flushed, his lips swollen, his hand moving rapidly over his length. He can't hold back any longer.

— Cum with me. — he demands between heavy exhales, and simultaneously, his fingers speed up the pace inside you, thrusting in and out relentlessly, making you moan loudly. But you take him back into your mouth, sucking the tip steadily while you continue to move your hand along the rest of his length.

He rolls his eyes as you take him again, your hand and mouth in perfect harmony. He feels his release creeping in, his balls tightening. He lets out a strangled cry as he feels you suck harder and your tongue swirl around the tip. And just like that, your body convulses once more, consumed by ecstasy, and you cum on his fingers as he spills into your mouth, his hot, salty semen filling you and running down your throat.

He's never experienced an ejaculation so intense, so satisfying. He keeps thrusting his fingers into you through the orgasm, prolonging the pleasure until you're a quivering, panting mess on the table.

— Fuck, that was… — He’s unable to finish the sentence, his voice cut off by a heavy gasp, caused by the intense aftershocks that ravage your body.

For your part, you move away from his penis and lie back, tired and exhausted, on the table. Lee is about to make sure you’re okay, but, to both of your misfortunes, his cell phone rings, and you both sigh in frustration. However, he picks up the device and turns it off, completely ignoring the unwelcome call, his attention focused solely on you. No one was going to ruin his perfect moment.

He gently removes his fingers and brings them to his mouth to clean them with his tongue, once again delighting in the exquisiteness of your warm essence. He watches you lie there, exhausted and satisfied. A smile spreads across his lips as he realizes how intense it was.

— Are you okay, baby girl? — he questions, looking at you closely, studying you, wanting to assure you that only pleasure and comfort were what you were feeling. And luckily, your answer reassured him.

— I can assure you, I'm more than fine — you reply in a soft, smiling voice. You hear him sigh with satisfaction, and his thumb gently strokes your hipbone, in a gesture that is both tender and possessive. — How are you?

— I'm fucking great, princess. I've never felt anything like this — he admits in a voice somewhere between astonished and satisfied; he really does seem so happy. — You're incredible, did you know that? — he adds in a tone full of admiration.

—I'm glad I did well. — you reply, smiling proudly at yourself. To which Heeseung laughs softly and leans in to place a soft kiss on your forehead, then another on your nose, and finally a longer one on your lips.

— You were more than 'well'. You blew my mind — he replies after breaking away from the kiss. His hand slides from your hip to your waist, holding you firmly. — But... — Suddenly, he drags you to the edge of the table and spreads your legs, his eyes darkening with renewed desire. He can't get enough of you, and it doesn't look like he's going to anytime soon. — I can't just let you lie there looking so sexy and not do something about it. — he states in a low, husky voice, causing you to shudder.

— Oh, that wouldn't be acceptable, would it? — you respond playfully, playing along. The older man smiles mischievously, his hands running down your legs to the inside of your thighs.

— No, it wouldn't be. After all, my job is to protect you. And right now, I need to protect you from being neglected. — He positions himself between your legs and opens them wider, making the necessary space for himself, as he takes his member in his hand and strokes its tip against your sensitive clit, moving down your wet slit, collecting your juices, before repeating the motion a few times.

He watches your expression closely as he strokes your pussy with his tip, his eyes dark with desire and something softer, almost gentle. He knows he's about to pluck the petals of your innocence, and despite his dominant nature, he wants this moment to be special for you.

— I want your eyes on me, gorgeous. — More than a request, it's really a command, laced with his need to capture your expression the moment he finally goes further.

He watches the way you sit almost upright and bring your hands to his back, your delicate fingers digging into his skin, clinging to his body. He leans closer to you, wrapping his free arm around your waist to support you. He continues stroking your clit with his glans, spreading your wetness and increasing your anticipation. He catches you with his gaze, his eyes boring into yours.

— You're mine now, okay? This changes everything. — His voice is deep, filled with a mixture of possessiveness and vulnerability.

— I've always been yours. — you gasp softly, and his eyes soften at your words, a surge of emotion mingling with his arousal.

He leans down to capture your lips in a deep, passionate kiss, trying to keep you distracted as he finally fits himself against your wet entrance. His tip presses against you with eager insistence, slowly beginning to push in, until, with a gentle but firm push, he pierces your hymen, eliciting a stifled cry from both of you. The sensation of encasing himself in your tight heat makes him see stars too, but he struggles to hold back a little.

— It's okay, it's okay, babe. I know it hurts, but you'll feel amazing soon... — Still against your mouth, he whispers those reassuring words, one hand stroking your hair while the other grips your hips tightly. He begins to move slowly, giving your body time to adjust to his size.

— Heeseung~ — you moan, deeply enraptured as he goes deeper and deeper, deliciously filling and stretching your tight pussy. His control almost breaks at the sound of your moans mixed with his name.

One of his hands moves to your ass, squeezing it possessively, tilting your hips to get a deeper angle. His hips thrust gently but firmly, his swollen member sliding in and out of you in unnecessary movements. He watches in fascination as you lie back again, arching your back and spreading your legs wider to better fit him. He uses that moment to push himself deeper between them and, holding them, wraps them around his waist. He slides an arm under your back, holding you and allowing you to arch fully.

— Look at us, look how well you take me, princess. — he pants, keeping his gaze down between your legs, watching his cock fill you.

— I'm liking taking you~ — you moan softly, your voice slipping like a hot whisper in the air.

After listening to you, he begins to move more deliberately, each thrust measured but intense, searching for the perfect rhythm to make you enjoy yourself. One hand moves between your thighs, searching for your clit with skillful fingers. The contact makes your body shudder, and your moans become more frequent.

— Can you hold out longer, baby? — he asks, his voice low and raspy, as he gently rubs around your sensitive bud, continuing to thrust. His hot breath glides over your skin, making you feel like you're on fire inside.

— Yes, love. Yes, I can. — you respond ecstatically, oblivious to shyness, as your body arches toward him, seeking more contact, more pressure. Your voice is a desperate whisper, a call for him to take you further, deeper.

However, hearing you call him "love" triggers a excitement is on the edge, and his movements become frantic, more intense.

— Say it again... — he demands, his voice muffled against your breasts, as his tongue glides over one of your hardened peaks, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He begins to thrust faster, deeper, hitting spots inside you that make you moan and feel like you're about to fall apart.

— It can't be that you like a simple nickname so much. — You giggle lightly between moans, as your body moves to the rhythm of his thrusts. Your hands clutch at his back, searching for something to hold on to. Heeseung laughs breathlessly, his breath hot against your chest.

— It's not just a nickname when you say it — He lifts his head to look into your eyes, his hips never stopping their rhythmic movements, as his hand slides over your skin, searching for sensitive spots, seeking to make you feel alive. — You calling me 'love' makes me feel like you're giving me something precious.

— Well, I'm giving you all of me, love... — you murmur thoughtfully, as your body surrenders to him, as your soul opens, offering itself. Your voice is a desperate whisper, a call for him to take you, to make you his completely.

His breath catches at your words, emotion overwhelms his lust for a moment, and his movements stop. Then, he kisses you deeply, desperately, pouring all his feelings into the kiss, as his tongue slides over yours, his teeth capture your lower lip in a sweet bite that makes you gasp. When he pulls back, he looks at you, his eyes intense, full of emotion.

— Then I'm very lucky, because you're the most precious thing anyone has ever given me. — His voice is gentle, a murmur of gratitude, of love.

— Come here. — you gasp, taking his face in your hands and pulling him in for a kiss, to feel his warmth. Your mouth opens and his tongue slides inside.

He lifts you slightly, both hands on your hips, moving them off the table to change the angle, and his cock hits a spot inside you that almost makes you scream into his mouth. The air escapes your lungs in a ragged gasp, and your legs tense around his waist, trying to keep him inside you.

You look into his eyes, your pupils dilated, filled with adoration and mutual desire. You keep your hand on his face, caressing his cheek, while you moan at his precise, deep penetrations. His gaze is like a magnet, attracting yours, and you feel lost in the abyss of his eyes. His lips curve into a smile, and his tongue comes out to lick your lips, as if he's savoring their taste.

— You look at me as if I'm the only thing you see. —He whispers, his voice husky with arousal.

— And you are. —You gasp softly in reply, your words like a trigger that breaks his control.

He starts moving faster, harder, his hips slamming into yours. The table creaks beneath you, but he doesn't slow down. He loses himself in your eyes, in the feeling of your pussy surrounding him, in the sound of your voice. His breathing is ragged, and his chest rises and falls rapidly.

— Heeseung… — His name amid your moans echoes throughout the room, as do the sounds of skin against skin with each thrust.

Your voice is like a chant, a hymn to the passion that consumes you, as he continues hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. The sensation is like a tsunami, a wave of pleasure that drags you toward the abyss.

— Louder… — he growls, his hands squeezing your thighs, spreading them as far as he can, and his cock drives deeper into you. You feel like you’re being torn apart by passion, like your body is being consumed by the intensity surrounding them. — Say my name again.

— Ah! Heeseung! — you whimper, your voice like a scream of release that echoes through the spacious studio. The orgasm is searing. But he doesn’t stop, he keeps moving, keeps driving his member into you, relentlessly.

He watches your face contort with pleasure, your mouth open in a silent scream. He sees your chest rise and fall rapidly, hears your soft moans. But instead of slowing down, he goes faster, penetrating you mercilessly. He wants another, another cry of ecstasy, another orgasm. His thumb finds your clit again, rubbing it in firm but gentle circles, trying to coax all the pleasure he can from your body.

— Hee~ — you whine pitifully, due to the overstimulation. He smiles devilishly, knowing exactly what those moans mean, but still continues his rhythm.

— One more, baby. Give me one more. You can take it... I know it. — He pants, sweat dripping from his forehead. His voice is like a challenge to your resistance.

— But I want you to cum too. — Your voice is almost a whisper. You really want him to release himself, to let himself go completely and lose himself in the abyss of lust where they're suspended.

His eyes nearly roll back at your words, as a wave of desire overwhelms him and drags him closer to the shore. He bites his lower lip, fighting to contain his own ejaculation, the throbbing desire that threatens to spill over.

— Not until you do it again. — he growls, his jaw clenched, his voice deep and thick with need. He presses his thumb harder against your clit, feeling your body tremble beneath his touch.

— Then cum with me. — you beg, your moans intertwining with the urgency of your words.

His eyes darken with intense desire, and he nods, unable to resist your plea. He adjusts the angle slightly, relentlessly hitting that perfect spot inside you, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

— Let's cum together, my princess. — he growls with a possessive tone, his movements becoming more urgent, primal, as if each thrust demands your total surrender.

You moan loudly once more, tightening your legs around his waist, digging your fingers into his forearms, feeling the strength of his body against yours. At the sound of his name on your lips, he loses control completely. With a loud grunt, he buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent, and his entire body tenses as he reaches climax. He feels another orgasm wash over you, your throbbing walls enveloping him, triggering his own release.

He swallows your screams, his lips devouring yours in a deep, ravenous kiss. Your bodies convulse against each other, his hot seed filling your insides, as a soft groan escapes his lips, another wave of pleasure hits him, and your inner muscles squeeze him dry. He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours, watching as you crumble again, lost in euphoria.

— I love you~ — you gasp softly, a surge of vulnerability floating in the air. Your confession seems to stop time. His eyes, dark and deep, bore into yours with overwhelming intensity, filled with wonder and adoration.

Something in him shudders, as if your words have pierced every layer of his being, reaching a place no one else has ever touched before. His body still trembles with the aftershocks of his relentless passion, and yet it's your declaration that truly takes his breath away. Slowly, a smile spreads across his face, the most beautiful and genuine you've ever seen. But the silence between you lengthens, and uncertainty begins to settle in your chest.

— Why aren't you answering? — you ask in a whisper, the echo of your fear resonating between you both.

He doesn't answer right away. Instead, his fingers find your face with infinite tenderness, his thumbs gently wiping away the sweat and tears of pleasure gathering at the corners of your eyes. His touch is reverent, as if you were something sacred.

— Because I'm still trying to process that you just said those three words to me. — His voice is a husky whisper, thick with emotion. He takes a deep breath, never taking his eyes off yours, finding in them all the answers he didn't know he needed.

— I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overwhelm you. — you excuse yourself timidly, but before insecurity can take hold, he shakes his head, a soft laugh escaping his lips. And then he kisses you.

It’s not just a kiss. It’s a refuge, a silent promise, an absolute surrender. You pour all your emotions into it. He kisses you with a devotion that rekindles the spark between you, dispelling any doubts. When he finally breaks away, his forehead rests on yours, his eyes closed tightly, as if afraid that when he opens them, this moment might vanish. But you’re there. He’s there. And nothing in the world could make this moment cease to exist.

— You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear those words from you, so don’t apologize — he whispers, his voice imbued with a sincerity that envelops you like a caress. His gaze shines with a mixture of relief and suppressed emotion.

— I really wanted to say them. — you murmur softly, brushing your nose against his in a tender and complicit gesture.

His reaction is immediate. He wraps you in his arms with a strength that doesn't seek to possess, but to hold you, wanting to reassure himself that you are real, that this moment isn't a fleeting dream. His body relaxes in the embrace, for the first time in a long time, finding true peace. The warmth he radiates is comforting, enveloping, and in that contact he understands: these aren't just words. They are an absolute truth, as undeniable as the way your heart beats in unison with his.

A soft smile spreads across his face, his eyes crinkling tenderly as he absorbs every nuance of this moment. But the intensity of his love, this longing he's harbored for so long, compels him to seek confirmation.

— Are you serious? — His voice is a deep whisper, thick with emotion, while his eyes cling to yours with quiet desperation. He needs to hear it again. He needs to know this is real.

— I'm completely serious, Heeseung. I love you. — you repeat firmly, letting each word resonate with truth, with the strength of a feeling that leaves no room for doubt.

Something in him breaks and mends itself at the same time. His lips part slightly, as if he wants to respond immediately, but the torrent of emotion is too much. A single tear slides down his cheek, a silent witness to the impact of your words. He takes a deep breath, trying to stem the avalanche of feelings, but his voice trembles when he finally lets out the answer he's been keeping deep inside.

— I love you too. — In those four words, filled with an indescribable intensity, his whole world aligns with yours.

Your heart beats frantically at just hearing it, the butterflies in your stomach flutter, but there's something else that captures your attention in that instant.

— I guess you're not the only one who loves me. — you comment, amused, feeling his desire renewed inside you, his cock hardening once more.

He chuckles softly, a deep sound that resonates in his chest, filled with satisfaction. He gently moves his hips, teasing you with his renewed hardness.

— It seems so. And it also seems like I'll have a hard time tiring of you, too. — he says, his voice husky with desire, thick with palpable lust.

— I want you to bend me over this table and take me from behind. — you gasp softly, each word professing desire.

His body shudders at your heated words, his member throbbing urgently inside you. With a grunt of pure pleasure, he slowly withdraws, enjoying the exquisite friction of each brush as his manhood slides out of your cushioned, warm walls. In one swift, determined movement, he lifts you off the table, turns you over, and bends you over the wooden surface, pressing your tits against it.

Suddenly, you feel the impact of his hand on your buttock, a blow that makes you shudder and moan in surprise, but that ends up resulting in a delicious stinging sensation. He smiles wickedly at your words, loving with some morbidity the pinkish trace he leaves on your pale skin. He rubs the spot before delivering another firm slap, enjoying the way you wriggle under his touch.

Without warning, he penetrates you again, sinking his member hard into your pussy, pressing his chest against your back as he presses you against the table and his body. He wraps his arms around your waist, pressing you against him as he begins to thrust into you mercilessly. The table creaks under the force of his movements, his muscles contracting and relaxing in a primal rhythm as he thrusts in and out again and again, without any restraint.

— Do you like it? — he asks between moans, his hot breath caressing your skin.

— I love it~ — you moan, fascinated, and he leaves soft kisses on your cheek, each touch igniting the fire between you even more.

He continues thrusting into you, his movements becoming more erratic and desperate as you move. He pursues his next release. He nestles into the crook of your neck, his lips and tongue peppering your skin with hot kisses, marking you as his with every touch. He hooks an arm under one of your legs and lifts it to the edge of the table, allowing him deeper access, each penetration sending waves of pleasure through your body.

— Tell me you're only mine. — he growls, his teeth grazing your neck, a touch that sends shivers of pleasure through you.

— I am, I'm only yours. — you whimper loudly. He shudders at your words, an intense wave of possession and love enveloping him completely.

He buries his face in your hair, inhaling your intoxicating scent as he continues to penetrate you, each movement bringing him closer to the edge of ecstasy and sensitivity.

— I love you~ — he whispers huskily, each syllable filled with fervor.

— I love you too. — you reply between moans. Bringing a hand between your body and the table, he moves down your abdomen until he finds your clitoris and begins to rub it, once again seeking that relief that seems so close.

Heeseung feels you arch, your body eager for release again. Firmly, he circles your wrist with his fingers, pulling your hand away from its goal. He wants to be the one to bring you to climax, not your own fingers.

— My turn… — he growls, replacing your fingers with his, his expert touch fanning the flames of ecstasy in your body.

— Mmm~ H-Heeseung! — you mumble, choked, your insides throbbing, nearing orgasm. You clutch the table, seeking stability in the abyss of pleasure.

He feels your limbs trembling, aware that you're on the verge of unraveling again. He rubs your clit with firm pressure, synchronizing his movements with his thrusts. With his other hand, he grabs your hips, holding you tight as he thrusts relentlessly.

— Be a good girl and cum for me again... — he commands huskily, a command that resonates deep inside you. And without further ado, Heeseung feels you convulse around him, reaching your climax, his name on your lips. — That's it, you're doing so good, baby. So good for me.

He continues moving inside you, prolonging your pleasure, reveling in the way your body trembles and gripping him in an ecstasy that seems to have no end. His own climax reaches him like a crashing wave, and with one last deep thrust, he lets himself go, spilling inside you once more, with an intensity that leaves him trembling. A deep roar escapes his throat, his gravelly voice reverberating through the studio as his body surrenders to the wave of sensations coursing through him.

The air is still thick with desire and something deeper, something beyond physical pleasure. With a ragged sigh, you collapse onto the table, the warmth of your skin meeting the coolness of the wood as you try to catch your breath. Heeseung doesn't move away. Instead, he snuggles up against you, his face finding refuge in the crook of your neck and shoulder, his still erratic breathing brushing your skin. His arms slide around your waist, pulling you against him with possessive need.

— You fascinate me. — His voice is a deep whisper, still laced with emotion and desire. His lips brush against your skin as he continues to murmur words of adoration, telling you how much he loves you, how beautiful you are, how unique it feels to have you in his life.

Each word is a balm, a reminder that this isn't just desire, but something bigger, more real. His confessions feel like invisible caresses, enveloping you in a bubble of tranquility, one that belongs only to this moment, to the two of you, and to the certainty that, for now, nothing else matters.

[kaayyyys]

Daryl Dixon X reader

You're his soft spot ❤️

Daryl's world is brutal, and he's built walls to survive. But for you, he'd lower those walls and become your fiercest protector. He'd always be aware of your surroundings, scanning for threats, and positioning himself between you and any danger. He wouldn't just protect you physically; he'd shield your spirit too, deflecting negativity and bolstering your courage.

Daryl isn't one for grand gestures or flowery words. His love is expressed in actions. He'd watch you carefully, learning your habits, your fears, and your secret joys. He'd notice the little things – a shift in your mood, a flicker of sadness in your eyes – and he'd respond accordingly, offering a comforting presence or a silent act of service. His understanding of you would be profound, built on observation and genuine care.

Forget candlelight dinners and romantic getaways. Daryl's romance is found in the everyday. He'd bring you a freshly caught rabbit, not as a provider, but as a gift. He'd share his meager rations of coffee with you in the morning, a silent offering of warmth. He'd sit beside you by the campfire, the crackling flames the only music you need, his presence a solid anchor in a chaotic world.

Trust is hard-earned in the apocalypse, but with you, Daryl would offer it freely. He'd confide in you about his past, his fears, and his hopes – things he'd never share with anyone else. He'd trust your judgment, seek your advice, and rely on you to be his sounding board. In return, he'd be fiercely loyal and unwavering in his support of you.

The world outside is filled with walkers and constant threats, but in Daryl's arms, you'd find a safe haven. His embrace would be strong and protective, a silent promise that he'll always be there for you. He might not say "I love you" often, but you'd feel it in the way he holds you, the way he buries his face in your hair, the way he makes you feel like you're the only person in the world that matters.

Daryl knows what it's like to be broken. He'd approach you with patience and understanding, never pushing you to share more than you're ready to. He'd accept you for who you are, flaws and all, and he'd help you heal from the wounds of the past. He wouldn't try to fix you, but he'd stand beside you as you fix yourself.

While he can be serious, Daryl also has a dry wit. He'd tease you gently, a playful way of showing affection. He might call you "darlin'" or some other simple term of endearment, a sign that you've broken through his tough exterior. These small moments of levity would be precious reminders of the love you share, even amidst the darkness.

You both have scars, both physical and emotional. Daryl wouldn't shy away from them; he'd acknowledge them, understand them, and help you carry them. Together, you'd find strength in your shared experiences, becoming each other's rock in a world that's constantly trying to break you down.

Even though he’s protective, Daryl wouldn't try to control you. He'd respect your independence and your ability to take care of yourself. He knows you're strong, and he wouldn't want to stifle your spirit. He'd simply want to be there to support you, to offer a helping hand when you need it, and to celebrate your victories, big or small.

[inlovewithgreta]

Bratty Behavior - Addison Montgomery x Fem!Reader

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Synopsis: After giving Addison attitude all day, she comes up with a plan so it never happens again.

Warnings: dom!addy, brat!reader, mommy kink, spanking, pussy slapping, fingering, choking, degradation kink, praise kink, voyeurism, thigh riding, and I think that's it??

Word Count: 4.4k

A/n: this honestly took me forever to write but I’m lowkey happy with how it turned out! thank you for being patient with my slow writing but I have plenty of wips I can start pushing forward that I can’t wait to share with y’all!

© Do not copy, repost, or modify any of my works.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

"...and Y/l/n, you're with Montgomery. Special request." Bailey stated, after assigning you and the rest of your fellow interns to the Attending you'd each be helping out for the day.

You let out a sigh of relief, glad to be on Addison's service. The two of you had kept your 'relationship' private. Well at least you considered it one, as you two were only seeing each other and had spent numerous hours in each other's arms in bed any chance you could get. You two only had eyes for each other, and you were ready to come out to the Chief, but Addison on the other hand wasn't, and she never told you why.

You were happy to be working on the Pediatric floor for the day, as the vibe was more uplifting and calming compared to any other floor of the hospital. Work went as it usually did, you checked up on patients, ran labs, and did everything you were supposed to do, and did it the most efficient way you could. To any doctor, they should be thrilled they had an intern who did what they were told, and did it well. But nobody seemed to notice, not even Addison.

As today was hectic, Addison started piling you with work that had quickly turned your mood sour when you had multiple patients getting that had forced you to change your scrubs on numerous occasions while Addison completely disregarded you. She barely even glanced in your direction when you called out to her as she walked past you, which only fueled your negative mood.

"Seriously?" You called out, turning on your feet to face Addison who now turned to face you at the raise of your voice.

"What is it, Y/l/n? I have things to do." The redhead crossed her arms.

"Addison, I called out to you and you straight up ignored me."

"Dr. Montgomery," She simply stated.

"W-what?" You asked, with a confused face.

"It's Dr. Montgomery to you, Y/l/n. In case you forgot, we are at work, and I am your boss."

"In case you forgot, I have your patients lab results, along with their scans that you need to check out. I've never seen anything like it before."

Addison's tongue swiped at her upper teeth at the sass you were giving her, along with backtalk that you had never used with her before, and she didn't like it. The redhead had to hold her composure, snatching the labs from your hands and running her eyes over the pages.

"Schedule her for surgery, we need to take care of this now."

"Can I scrub in?" You hopefully asked.

"No."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Why not? Dr. Montgomery, I've been running around doing her labs all day–"

"You haven't earned it," she stated. "Now go schedule the surgery."

"But–"

Addison cut you off with a finger to your lips as she took a threatening step closer, her body only mere inches from yours. Heat radiated off her body as she let out a small huff.

"No buts, you're talking back, you're sassy, and you're being a brat. Tell me why I should let you in on this surgery when you have an attitude."

You slightly rolled your eyes, annoyed that you had put in the work but didn't get the reward for it, and didn't even get the chance to speak with her finger blocking your lips from moving. In this moment, you didn't care about the eye roll, but for Addison, it only added fuel to the fire you would have to deal with later.

"That's what I thought, now go." She forced the labs back into your hands with a stern expression.

You huffed and did as you were told, unaware of the fact that Addison was now thinking of a way to knock the sassiness out of you. Normally, just her stern look alone would have you on your knees in submission, but today was different. You were being a brat, and Addison was not about to let you get away with it.

Hours later, as Addison was making her way to your locker room, Mark pulled Addison aside and claimed that you were being sassy towards him all day, but Mark being Mark, he was enjoying this new side of you. After he filled her in, her trimmed brows couldn't help but raise as she licked her lips, excusing herself to drag you immediately home.

The ride home was quiet, with you just staring out the window and Addison watching the road. After work, you had mainly found yourself at her place, it immediately became a routine that you would stay with her on days you weren't on call. As you entered the house, Addison's gaze never left your back as she noted the way you threw your bag on the floor, and the way you didn't hesitate to nearly rip your clothes off to rid yourself of your dirty work clothes.

"What's with the attitude today, hmm?" She questioned, making her way over to you after setting her own stuff aside.

"I don't have an attitude, Addy." You huffed when she blocked you from leaving the bedroom.

She nodded her head and puckered her red stained lips, knowing you weren't going to admit it with the bratty behavior you've had all day.

"Fine, get on the bed."

"What?"

She took a step closer, her slightly taller figure looming over you as her gaze turned dark with desire.

"Get on the bed."

"Addy, I'm not–" You went to talk back, but before you could, Addison lifted your face with a slender finger under your chin, closing your mouth in the process, while her nail ever so slightly dug into your sensitive skin.

"I'm going to fuck this attitude out of you until my little princess decides to rejoin me." She sternly stated, slowly guiding you back towards the bed. "Now sit."

You felt your knees hit the back of the bed, and they couldn't help but buckle at her words. Your nearly bare ass met with the soft duvet behind you as Addison couldn't help the wicked smirk that formed along her reddened lips at you listening to her command.

"See, it's not that hard to be good for me, now is it?"

The rose colored blush that crept onto your cheeks didn't go unnoticed by the redhead as she towered over you.

"But you haven't been good, have you?"

When you don't answer her immediately, Addison grabs your face, fingers digging into your flushed cheeks with a stern grip as she lowers her face down to yours.

"Have you?"

"No–" You whimpered.

"That's right, you haven't. You've been sassy and bratty towards me all day, and for what? Was mommy not giving you enough attention?" She let her bottom lip fall in a fake pout, lowering herself even closer so her lips just barely grazed yours. "Well it looks now like you have to wait even longer.." She smirked before standing back up straight, a small whine escaping past your lips as she moved herself backwards.

"But–"

"You see, good girls get rewarded when they prove just how good they really are. However, you've been bad, and deserve to be punished for the way you acted today, which leads me to have to make some crucial decisions." Her hands slipped behind her back, gliding the zipper down her back to let her dark dress fall smoothly to the floor. She left herself in her maroon undergarments that complimented her silky skin perfectly.

She had moved the small chair from the corner of the room to just a few feet in front of you before sitting herself down, with dark eyes trained solely on you. She looked elegant in her seated position. You couldn't tear your eyes off her, and you desperately wanted to touch her, but when you lifted a hand, Addison swatted it away.

"Tsk tsk," she shook her head in disapproval.

"Addy, please–"

"Begging already? Such a pathetic little slut.." Addison slowly opened her legs, revealing the dampened patch along her lace thong. "You craved my attention so bad, yet when I gave it to you, I got a brat in return. So, bend over my lap."

"W-what? Why?"

"For the first part of your punishment of course. Now come."

You shakily stood to your feet as you did what you were told, Addison wasting no time in pulling you across her lap with your ass lifted into the air. Without warning, a sharp smack to your cheek had you cry out at the sudden flash of pain until she used her hand to soothe the small ache.

"For each spank, I want you to apologize. I want to hear how sorry you are for being a bad girl today. Can you do that for me?"

You nodded your head, which only caused Addison to send her hand flying back down to your bottom.

"Use your words."

"Y-yes, mommy! I can do it!" You whimpered out as you adjusted your body to be more comfortable, unsure of how long you would be left like this.

"That's all I needed to hear.."

Her palm hit your ass with a sharp smack, almost surging you forward that had you holding yourself as steady as you could.

"I'm so sorry, mommy! I just wanted you so bad.."

Another smack, to the opposite cheek this time.

"Please, I'll be so good for you!"

Her hand smoothed down her next spot of choice before the next slap to your ass left a reddened spot along your bare skin.

"I-I won't be a brat anymore. I'll be your good girl. No more sas, I swear! I'm sorry!"

After Addison gave your ass a red tint, she let up her harshness, but she still wasn't satisfied with your begging. Her eyes glanced between your legs, noticing a prominent wet patch against your lace panties. She didn't think you'd be turned on as much as you were with this punishment, but she sure was glad you were, which only made her not want to stop just yet, forcing her hand down again with another smack.

"What are you sorry for?" She deliberately questioned, curious if you would apologize for every action.

"I'm sorry for talking back to you at work, and for being sassy towards you and everyone else all day. I won't do it again!"

Her hand forced its way down, smacking your ass cheek one last time before easing you to your feet. Your legs were shaking as you stood, face completely flushed, and eyes so dilated that Addison could barely see any color left.

"Not good enough. Sit back down."

You whined, but did as you were told, Addison eyeing your shaky legs with a heavy smirk. As you sat back down, you couldn't help but wince at the pain that shot up your spine from the soreness that now covered your ass. Eyes prickled with tears as you forced yourself to sit through the pain.

"My bad little slut forgot one very important detail in that apology, which I find to be the most naughty action of all.."

Your eyebrows knitted as you ran your head through the day, unsure of what you did that you could have possibly forgotten to apologize for. Addison spreading her legs in the chair tore your thoughts away as she slid a hand down her chest. Your mouth fell agape as she cupped her covered pussy with a quiet moan.

"Since you seemed to forget what it was.. You rolled your eyes at me, remember that?"

Your eyes widened when you knew exactly what she was talking about. You had never rolled your eyes at her before, and now you were about to get punished once again for being a brat towards the redhead who had started playing with herself through her wet fabric.

"I-I didn't mean to.."

"Oh, but you so did," she toyed with you, fingers moving her panties to the side to reveal her glistening pussy coated in her arousal. Your mouth watered at the sight, her legs spread wide open with her fingers gliding along her folds. She knew you were already wet, and she could only imagine how soaked you were at the fact that she was playing with herself right in front of you.

You couldn't help but squeeze your thighs together when the redhead let out her first moan as she easily slid two fingers past her entrance. She had only just started and you were already in dire need to touch her. It took everything in you not to move from your seat, as it would only make things worse for you. So you sat, and watched as Addison's mouth fell agape while sinful moans filled your ears.

"Mmm, you look so pretty sitting over there, it's a shame..."

Addison's free hand found her tit, pushing the thin lace out of the way for her fingers to pull at her nipple. You couldn't help but let out a small whine when Addison picked up her pace, the wetness between her thighs mixing with her moans was almost too much for you to handle. You were aching to do more than just sit and watch, but Addison took pleasure in watching you squirm.

"Addy please," your fingers grasped at the duvet below you to keep you from pouncing at her. "Let me help you. I want you so bad.."

The redhead casually ignored your plea as she played with her pussy, fingers easing out of her to rub her clit. Her hips just slightly bucked at the new sensation, feeling herself growing closer to her release.

"Mommy... I'm your good girl, please. I won't roll my eyes anymore. I won't be sassy. Just please- please let me taste you."

Addison wanted to make you wait longer, but the knot in her abdomen and the fact that you were being good, had her rethinking her decision. She loved the way you made her feel, the way you would treat her like a queen, and make her body fall apart with your skillful tongue.

"Fuck, come here.." she growled, you instantly falling to your knees to sit face to face with her dripping cunt. You didn't waste a second to bring your mouth to her core, lapping up the sweet juices along her folds before devouring her.

"You taste so good, mommy." You slightly pulled away to meet her gaze with your compliment.

Her manicured nails grabbed at your hair, wrapping her fingers lazily around your strands and pulled you back to her cunt. She desperately needed your mouth on her, tasting her, and fucking her until she came along your tongue.

Your hands grabbed at her inner thighs, forcing her legs to remain open, nails slightly digging into her smooth skin to leave crescent marks in their wake.

"Faster, princess.." You listened to her instantaneously, the consistency of her moans picking up letting you know you were doing it right. "Just like that! Fuck, I'm so close, don't stop."

You couldn't help but take in the sight before you, Addison's messy curls cascading over her face as her gaze was looking at you and only you, her free hand that continued to pull and twist at her nipple, and her perfectly toned stomach that rose and fell quickly as you felt her tighten around you.

"So close.." She hummed.

She bit her bottom lip in anticipation, feeling herself getting worked up to the point where she was about to be in shambles. Her hand gripped your hair tightly, guiding the movement of your head to help her reach that peak she was desperately chasing after.

Addison's eyes rolled to the back of her head, her vision going dark as she came with a hearty moan. Her hips threatened to buck from sensitivity, but your hands firmly held them still as you helped the redhead ride out her high for as long as possible. Addison whispered a plethora of expletives as you lapped up her release, taking your time in relishing the moment to lick her clean of her orgasm.

"You taste so good, mommy." You purred.

Addison let out a heavy sigh of relief as she caught her breath. You winced slightly as  she pulled you up by your hair, fixing her position in the chair to pull you on top of her to straddle her waist. Her plump lips engulfed yours in a heated kiss, the woman humming at the taste of herself along your tongue.

Her slender fingers delicately slid from your hair to roam your body, fingernails skimming over your chest to continue their path down the curvature of your body to reach the spot she was wanting the most.

You gasped into the kiss at the sound of fabric ripping, Addison not bothering to slide the garment down your legs, but instead ripped it off your body to give her access to your center. The cool air hitting your dampened cunt sent a chill up your spine, eliciting a small shiver from you. Her fingers dipped between your thighs, and your hips couldn't help but surge forward, begging for fingers to fill you.

A whine left your lips, forcing you to break from the kiss when Addison slapped your cunt, sending a wave of pleasurable shock throughout your body. "You didn't think I'd give in that easily, now did you?" She teased with a heavy smirk.

Your bottom lip formed into a small pout. All you wanted was for her to relieve you of the tension you've been building while watching the woman pleasure herself.

"What's wrong, little one? Is mommy not giving you what you want?"

You shook your head no as you lowered your gaze from hers, only fueling Addison to send another sharp smack to your cunt, this time hitting just the right spot that caused a small moan to escape past your parted lips.

A firm hand wrapping around your throat, just barely below your jawline forced your gaze back to the darkened eyes of Addison.

"Words. Use your words."

"I'm sorry, mommy."

Another slap to your pussy had your back arching at a deeper angle, pushing your breasts further towards the redhead. The hand around your throat squeezed ever so slightly tighter.

"God, I love hearing you beg. That sweet innocent little voice of yours begging for mommy's touch. Isn't that right, baby? You want me to touch you?"

"Fuck—" you nearly choked out, desperately in need of her. "Yes, please.." you begged, "Please touch me, mommy. Fill me with your fingers. Fuck me until I'm a shaking little mess."

"That can be arranged, sweet thing. Will you start being good for me?" Addison had pulled you in by your neck to engulf you in a heated kiss. A squeeze to your neck opened your mouth with a moan that allowed the woman access to slip her tongue into your mouth.

You mumbled into the kiss in response to her question, Addison not able to make out what you said but knowing you, that was a yes. She took it upon herself to not slap your cunt this time, but to run her fingers along your soaked folds dripping with arousal.

Your hips moved, in desperate need of more than just her small touch. Addison was messy with the kiss, leaving her stained lipstick across your own lips and across your jawline and she kissed her way across your face.

"Fuck me, please.." you begged, tilting your head to the side to allow Addison more access to your flesh. Her free hand gripped at your jaw, holding your head steadily to the side to keep you still as she marked her territory.

She smirked into your neck, two fingers sliding easily past your entrance. Your moans started off more quiet and inconsistent, gradually growing as Addison's fingers worked a steady pace between your thighs.

"That feels so good," your fingers raked through her messy curls, pushing away the few strands that fell in her face.

She sucked and nibbled across your bare neck, leaving fresh love bites in their wake as she marked you across your neck as much as she could.

The redhead made her way down your neck, placing bites along your collarbone. Her fingers curled delicately, hitting the soft spongy spot that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

"Mmm," you moaned out, grinding your hips with the movements of her fingers.

"Oh, I see," she purred, "You want to ride mommy's fingers, don't you sweet thing?"

"Yes, god yes! Please..."

The hand around your neck left to skim down your body to rest along the curve of your hip, guiding your body down as she rested her other hand to allow you to take control.

"Go ahead, baby."

Your hips jolted forward, eager to ride the fingers that curved deliciously inside you. Arousal dripped down her slender fingers, Addison gripping at your hip to keep you steady.

Your clit slid against her palm, only adding to the pleasure you were receiving from the woman beneath you. Fingers curled in her maroon locks as she found your chest, placing small kisses along the upper swell of your breast.

"Fuck, you feel so good inside me," you moaned out.

Her tongue flicked against your nipple, swirling around the hardened bud in a slow and skillful manner. Her lust-filled eyes glanced up at you as she pulled your tit in her mouth.

Your hips grew frantic with each passing second, eagerly chasing the orgasm you have been not-so-patiently waiting for.

"God, that feels so good!"

Her teeth grazed your nipple, sending a shiver down your spine. Your pace was desperate, and Addison's grip along your hip tightened, nails gently digging into your skin.

"You're so close, baby. I can feel it. Come around mommy's fingers like my good girl."

Your pace was relentless, fingers pulling Addison's hair gently as you chased your first orgasm.

"Fuck— I'm gonna—"

Addison's lips met with yours in a short but sweet kiss, your breathing momentarily stopping as your orgasm ripped through you. The redhead cooed and talked you through your first high as she kept her fingers still beneath you as your riding slowed down.

She sent small kisses along your cheek and jawline, surprised that your pace never faltered, yet began to pick up again once you came down from your high and chased after another.

Your hand dipped between your legs, taking her hand from your cunt so you can lower yourself down on her thigh. You didn't let go of her hand, but instead swiped your tongue along her slender fingers before dipping them inside your mouth.

"Such a needy little thing.."

Addison's gaze grew dark, watching intently as you sucked your orgasm from her fingers. You couldn't help but hum and moan as your slick pussy slid across her thigh with ease.

The friction gave you the pleasure you were looking for, your gaze not leaving hers as you sucked her fingers clean and let them go with a small ‘pop’.

She went to move her hand but you guided it back to your throat, wanting her to keep some kind of control over you. Her eyes flicked to your lips as you let out a deep moan when her fingers tightened around your throat.

Your breathing was heavy, hips grinding against the thickness of her thigh that had you a moaning mess. Addison felt herself growing wetter at your sounds. Your growing moans were heaven to her, and she loved hearing those sinful sounds coming from beyond your lips.

“Do you want to come, baby?”

“Mhm..” you nodded your head frantically, juices sliding down Addison’s thigh as you grind against her.

“Then come for me. Come along mommy’s thighs. Let me see that pretty face of yours as you unravel in front of me.”

You bit your bottom lip, trying to suppress the needy moans that were threatening to grow louder as you felt the familiar pit in your stomach.

Your orgasm ripped through you, legs quickly beginning to shake around Addison’s thigh as your hips continued to move back and forth as you rode out your high for as long as possible.

Addison wanted to savor this moment, eyes memorizing every feature and gesture you made as you came. She admired your face, the way your eyebrows were knitted tightly, cheeks completely flushed, and lips spread wide open as you moaned out.

You had to reposition yourself, allowing your legs to tightly close as your head fell in the nape of Addison’s neck. Your breathing was fast and heavy, small whines leaving your lips as you pressed your thighs tightly together.

“You did so good for me, princess.”

Addison kissed the top of your head, hand soothingly running up and down your back as you attempted to catch your breath.

It took you a few minutes to return back to normal, but your shaky legs hadn’t gone away, knowing they would be like jello if you tried to stand.

Exhaustion was quick to find you, the long day and multiple orgasms hitting you like a truck. The small yawn you involuntarily let out alerted Addison of your exhaustion. Her hand dipped to your chin, lifting your face so she could get a look at you.

Your eyes were freshly glazed over and it was clear you were done for the day.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and in bed, baby. Does that sound good?”

You nodded your head with a small smile, Addison pressing her plump lips against yours in a sweet and tender kiss. She lifted you up, carrying you in her arms to your side of the bed to set you down gently.

She gave you a quick peck to your forehead as she left for the bathroom, tidying herself up, and getting out a fresh rag to clean you up. As she returned, she couldn't help but playfully roll her eyes with a massive smile that spread across her face when she saw you with your eyes closed and now on her side of the bed.

Addison couldn't help but laugh to herself that she was actually successful with fucking the attitude out of you.

She was gentle and careful with cleaning you, before settling herself in the bed behind you, pulling you flush against her chest as she got herself comfortable to sleep the night away with you in her arms.

[wallysletterman]

Your requests are open and I'm in my Milo phase baby! So the idea is that he comes into your job and you work at a convenience store or something. Sees you for the first time and he decides he needs you bad! He keeps coming back, you get to know each other, dates, kissy kissy, fluff.

know you

pairing: milo manheim x reader

word count: 4.0k (it’s a long one 🫣)

warnings: none, kinda slow burn :3

a/n: this was so cute!! i had so much fun writing this! 😭 i hope you love it <333 p.s. thank you for waiting ilyyy (p.p.s. pretend reader only knows milo from zombies)

this job was nothing special. it was merely a way to earn extra cash as you were juggling busy student life. you never meant for it to mean anything in the grand scheme of things. it was a small coffee shop in the heart of the city, Mugged. it was tucked away on a side street, simply unnoticable.

the job became monotonous. you had a routine and you stuck to it. making the same drinks over again, you don't expect much to change.

until he walked in.

milo was thrilled when he found out he had booked Little Shop. a new city with new faces was just what he needed in his life right now. and, unbeknownst to you both, the apartment he currently resided in was just five minutes away from your shop.

so many chances to run into each other.

with early call times, long rehearsals, and late nights spent with fellow cast mates, milo most definitely needed his morning coffee to feel some semblance of normal. and it was on his way into rehearsal when we stumbled upon the shop.

this morning, you found yourself caught in a rush. you were taking an older gentleman’s order when it happened. you heard the ringing of the small bell above the doorway. on instinct, you glance over, thinking it was just another customer. but as you took a second glance to greet him, you found it was milo. holy shit, you thought, nearly dropping the coffee of the customer as you caught his eyes.

he offered you a small smile, nodding his head in acknowledgment.

he’s even cuter in person.

after having to snap yourself out of it, you greeted him like he was any other customer. it’s the least you could do for him.

as milo patiently waited his turn, you had to mentally prepare yourself not to embarrass yourself. you saw his brown eyes scan over the menu, your stomach turning in anticipation. he was making it hard to pay attention to your work.

after servicing a nice, middle aged woman, it was milo’s turn. your heart literally skipped a beat as he took a step toward. he was clad in a simple button up and levi’s. god he’s perfect. please don’t fuck this up.

"how are you today?'" you ask in a composed but cheery tone, opposite of what you were feeling inside. you gave him your best smile.

“i’m good, thank you.” he takes a second to stare at you. he seemed surprised at the question. you felt small under his gaze as you smoothed out your apron, a nervous tick you’d picked up since working here. he was gorgeous.

“what can i get for you?” you gather yourself, a smile still on your lips. his eyes linger on you for a second longer before answering. “um how about a medium roast, with a splash of milk and three sugars please,” he offered you a smile.

a simple guy.

“easy, i like it.” you say, giving him the slightest wink.

you were mortified as soon as you let it slip. oh my god. he for sure thinks you’re weird now. you cursed internally at yourself as you typed his order into the system.

you hear him let out a soft chuckle. it instantly stopped all negative thoughts flowing through your mind. his laugh somehow made everything bad go away.

“for milo, right?” you break your silence.

his eyes meet yours, a playful smile on his face and he responds with, “yes, milo. how did you know?”. his voice was full of surprise.

not wanting to come off too creepy, you playfully lie with, “i had a hunch,”. you were thankful your customer service skills pulled through, avoiding an awkward exchange.

he laughed again. you could swear time stopped. he was gorgeous and he was here and he was standing right in front of you, laughing at your joke.

you made his drink with nerves, glancing over at him every couple seconds. he gave you a smile each time. he was so cute.

after handing him his drink, he said a simple, “have a good day, y/n.”. you thought you saw him wink. you were left speechless as he walked out the door. milo manheim knew your name.

you couldn’t help but fan girl to your coworkers the rest of the day. “and he said my name!” was repeated by you multiple times for the rest of your shift. you couldn’t believe how charming he is in real life. i mean sure, you’ve seen his interviews, but it was much different when he’s standing right in front of you. much more captivating. and his laugh was your absolute favorite.

but you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness at the thought of never seeing him again. you were grateful for the interaction you had had with him, but something about him drew you in. the only thing you could do was go home to the thought of just how sweet of a human milo really is.

you weren’t scheduled to open the next morning, but your coworker made the sound of extra money and the promise of lunch on them sound too good to pass up. you, of course, picked up her shift.

the morning was slower than usual. but, of course, your regulars came in. you enjoyed days like these. it was the quiet you needed when your mind buzzed with all the tasks you had to do that week. the voices of a few customers and the soft hum of some the 1975 song was all that ran through the coffee shop. you could really love your job sometimes.

and, as it always does, the familiar ringing of the bell caught your attention as you were wiping down the counter. it was milo. you felt your heart flutter and your palms moistened. he was dressed in a simple black tee and grey sweatpants. he looked so cozy with his fluffy hair. you swore he got even more handsome.

“hey,” you say, letting the word drag out. you hoped it sounded flirty. you were more confident today and wanted to try your luck. you had spent just a little longer on your hair this morning, hoping milo would walk through those doors. you were so glad your morning self did.

“hello,” he responds excitedly. he takes off his sunglasses, wanting to see all of you. he knew what he was doing. you try to act as nonchalant as you could muster as he approached the counter. his eyes took you in, even more than yesterday.

was milo manheim checking you out?

you had to push that thought aside, reminding yourself you were here to work. as much as you wanted to check him out yourself. you couldn’t shake the feeling he gave you.

“how are you today, milo?” you say, genuinely meaning it. he felt familiar already. “i’m doing good,” he trails off for a second. he smirks as he eyes your figure. “y/n,” he finally finishes. you never knew your name could sound so pretty. you offer him a smile.

“you have a beautiful name by the way,” he adds. you couldn’t help but feel your cheeks flush. milo called your name beautiful. is this real?

“thank you,” you mumble slightly. you tilt your head down ever so slightly, embarrassed he may find you blushing.

“what can i get for you?” you break your silence. he was so good at making you lose composure.

“let’s do the medium roast again. i had to come back for more.” he says, a hint of playful in his voice. the look he gave you couldn’t help but make you think he was talking about more than just coffee.

“you got it.” you replied, matching his smirk. the tension between you was unmistakable.

and that’s how it went for the next week or so. playful remarks to each other, longing glances when you were making his coffee, and small touches as you handed him his cup that sent fire through you.

but you couldn’t let yourself humor the thought of him liking you. how could he? you were sure there were plenty of people in his life he had his eye out for. you were just some barista working in a coffee shop. there was not much special about that. you felt extra ordinary.

as much as you fawned over him, you kept your delusions to yourself. you couldn’t let yourself think that those little moments were anything to get excited for. you wouldn’t let yourself get hurt.

it’s been a week since your last opening shift. that meant, unfortunately for you, no hoping milo profess his undying love for you. it was fine though. you merely brushed off your encounters as nothing more than playful conversation. but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss milo.

it was a chilly saturday night in new york city. your plans tonight consisted of nothing more than snuggling up on your couch to watch your favorite rom-com. that was until your best friend messaged you. she had gotten tickets to the opening night of Little Shop of Horrors. she had and extra ticket and didn’t want to go alone. who were you to say no to a fun night out?

you were full of excitement on your way to the theatre. you hadn’t heard who would be playing the lead roles, you were simply along for the ride. and being with your bestie was an added bonus.

during the opening scene, you were pleasantly surprised to see Liz Gillies playing Audrey. she embodied the character perfectly as she sang across the stage. she was absolutely lovely.

then milo came stumbling out, dropping potted plants as Seymour. your jaw fell to the floor.

you had to contain yourself as you watched the show unfold. it was a treat to see milo in his element. everything about him was enchanting. you constantly found yourself looking for him, even during scenes he wasn’t in.

he was your Seymour.

it was during curtain call, when your friend informed you about stage door. your stomach was in knots at the thought of seeing milo again. you could hardly wait.

after finding your way out to stage door, you huddled close to other fans, wanting to find an escape from cold weather.

after a while, the door opened to reveal a happy milo. everyone was buzzing with excitement as milo worked his way down the line of fans. they were so polite. you could tell milo appreciated every single one of them.

you felt like throwing up as milo worked his way down to you. you guys were the last in line. you were made of nerves at this point.

it was when milo was standing in front of five fans ahead of you when he noticed you. his entire face lit up even more than it was. he waved at you hurriedly, shouting your name. he was happy to see you. you chuckled to yourself at how cute he was being. he kept sneaking glances at you as he was talking to the people beside you.

after talking for a couple minutes with the girl next to you, he was finally in front of you.

“y/n,” he drags out the last half of your name in the cutest tone ever. “hey milo,” you say, anxiety now gone. you quickly introduce your friend. she was left speechless at how familiar you two were.

“you were amazing, milo” you tell him, genuinely. a tint of red washes over his cheeks. you made milo manheim flustered.

“oh my god, thank you. it means a lot coming from you.” he responds, sincerity in his voice. even under the dim light of the street lamp, his eyes sparkle. you couldn’t get enough of him.

“can i give you a hug?” he asks, completely catching you off guard. “of course,” you say quickly.

he wraps his arms tightly around your waist, lifting you up slightly. you let out a small squeal, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. both of you in a fit of giggles.

he gently sets you down before talking to your friend. he was so attentive to everyone. you tried your hardest to gain your composure as they talked. he made you dizzy.

“thank you guys so much for coming,” he blows you guys kisses as he steps away. “i’ll see you later, yeah?” he nods at you, smirking as he walks off into the car.

your friend was left speechless as you both stood there, watching him drive off into the night. needless to say, she had lots of questions for you on the walk home.

with a little convincing of your manager, you were able to be scheduled for morning shifts from now on. you didn’t mind starting your day early if it meant you could see milo.

and see milo you did.

“the usual?” you ask milo as he walks up to the counter, excited to talk to him. “um actually,” he hesitates, hand coming up to the back of his head. “i wanted to ask you something.” his eyes are full of timidity.

“anything,” you respond, unsure of what he could possibly ask. “i wanted to know if you would like to go out with me.” he says shyly.

your heart dropped as you took in his words. in no universe were you expecting him to say that. he wanted you. and you were sure of it now. it was simultaneously the best and scariest feeling in the world.

silence hung in the air as you tried to gather your thoughts.

“you don’t have to,” he trails off, chuckling in embarrassment. “i’d love to,” you say breathlessly.

“okay,” the words escape him quick. “okay, um how about i swing by after your shift?” he says, flicking his eyes to his hands as a nervous tick.

“oh um,” you think. as much as you wanted to, you didn’t want to be seen with him in your stained work clothes. deciding to tell him what’s on your mind, you say “you don’t mind me wearing this?”

“oh, not at all!” he says, not wanting to hurt your feelings. “im just really excited to take you out if we’re being honest.” he smiles down at the ground.

he’s the sweetest.

“okay!” you exclaim. you can’t believe it.

“okay cool,” he tries to say as nonchalantly as he can, failing miserably. you laugh.

“i’ll see you later then?” he asks, walking away, light on his feet.

“yes, at 3.”

“i can’t wait”

you quickly went through your end of day routine. you were eager to be with milo. all day, you spent daydreaming about all the conversations and laughs you would have with him. you couldn’t wait to see what this had in store for you.

you were putting up your apron as milo walked in. he reminded you of a puppy, barely containing his excitement. you could so see yourself with him, no doubt about it.

“hi,” you greet him, your cheeks hurting from how hard you’re smiling. he matches you. “hi,” he says gently, pulling you in for a hug. he lingers his hands on your waist for a moment before pulling away, sending shivers down your spine. everything about him felt good.

“ready?” he asks. “for you, always.”

he grabs your hand, making sure you were okay with it before doing so. such a gentleman.

“where are we headed?” you ask as you walk out the coffee shop doors. you’d ran through every scenario during work, wondering which one milo had landed on.

“someplace that has become very important to me these past couple weeks,” he says, pondering slightly. “sounds big,” you respond, eager to see where he takes you.

you walk down familiar streets hand in hand. there was no need to fill the silence as you walked. you fell into a routine with him already. everything about you two was comfortable.

you began to recognize the buildings as the ones from opening night. was he taking you to the theatre?

before you could ask, milo had started running across the street to the small building. you laugh as you try to keep with with his long stride.

“we’re here,” he says, squeezing your hand gently as he came to a stop. you were right, you were standing in front of the theatre. “what are we doing here, mi?” you ask, not giving a second thought to the nickname. he noticed though. it made him smile.

without answering your question, he opens the glass door to the front entrance. “let’s find out,” he responds.

the familiar scent of the theatre was comforting as you walked in. as you waited for milo to follow behind you, you gazed at all the posters of the shows held there before.

milo, once again taking your hand, opened a set of doors for you leading into the auditorium. it was just as it was those few days ago, only empty.

darkness filled the room. the dark chilled you as you held on to milo’s arm for reassurance. the only light in the room came from a singular bulb, the ghost light. “watch your step,” milo says softly as you walk down the steps of the aisle.

milo stops as you reach the stage. he jumps up onto it, letting out a small grunt. offering his hand to you, you follow his actions.

you take a moment to take it all in. it was so cool to put yourself in the actor’s shoes, to see what they could see. imagining the crowd cheering you on for doing what you love most was overwhelming. you could understand why milo loves this.

“what do you think?” he asks. you turn to him, seeing him gesture to the empty aisles. he has a happiness all over his face. this is something he adores and he’s sharing it with you of all people.

“i understand why you love it.” “i knew you would.”

milo takes a seat at the edge of the stage, dangling his long legs over. you follow him.

“i thought i’d take you here to show you the most vulnerable part of me right now,” he looks over at you, offering his hand. you take it. he starts to gently play with your fingers as he continues, “i figured i’d show you all of me all at once, show you where i pour my heart out every night. i don’t want to hide from you. i thought this was a good a place as any to show you the real me.”

you couldn’t find the words. he was so good and complex and everything you wanted. “mi,” you start.

but before you could finish, milo’s hand comes up to your chin. moving it gently towards his face, he flicks his eyes from yours to your lips. you were dreaming. you had to be.

the look in his eyes was desperate, he needed you. and you weren’t going to keep him waiting any longer.

you leaned in first, bringing your hand up to find his hair. everything about him was intoxicating from his scent to his touch. he was the one to close the gap.

his lips were soft, tasting a bit like cherry. they fit so perfectly against yours, you swear you were made with each other in mind.

milo brings his hands down towards your waist, tugging you closer to him. the kiss deepened, his tongue gently parting your lips. you let out a harsh breath as you invite him in. he tasted so good.

but before it could get any more heated, milo pulled away. he put his forehead against yours. he looked at your face lovingly, memorizing every line.

he gives you one more peck before laughing gently, closing his eyes.

“what?” you ask, worried you made a mistake. did he not like it? did he only kiss you just to laugh in your face?

your worried thoughts were soon calmed by his next words, “i really like you,”. your stomach flipped. even after just kissing him, he still made you nervous.

“i really like you, too.” you respond, letting out a chuckle in relief. his eyes meet yours, hand coming up to brush the hair from your face. his touch is so gentle. “if you’d like,” he starts. “i would really love to get to know you better.”

his voice made you weak. you couldn’t believe the words coming out his mouth. you hope that you don’t wake up and realize all of this is nothing.

aware of your silence, milo continues, “i know it might all be too much too soon, but i have a feeling you’re different. and i don’t want to let you get away.”

you shut him up by wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for another kiss.

“is that a yes?”

it’s been a month since you and milo made it official. everything about life just feels better. no longer were you dreading going into work for another boring day.

instead, you looked forward to getting off work and visiting milo in the theatre. the cast was lovely and made you feel so welcomed. you’d wait in milo’s dressing room as he prepared for the nightly show, not wanting to impose on anyone but still being there to support your boy.

you were so happy to be apart of it.

it was another one of those thrilling nights before milo went on stage. after greeting everyone throughout the theatre, you made your way through a dimly lit hallways, now recognizing the twists and turns.

you paused at a door labeled “Seymour”, it made you smile every time you saw it. you turn the knob, gently knocking as you pushed open the door. milo should be waiting for you.

as you swing open the door, your eyes immediately find milo’s. he was in costume. he looked so cute with glasses. you always tell him his eyes sparkle even more.

“hi, hon,” he says, opening his arms for you. he was sat in front of his mirror. “hi,” you say, a smile creeping on your lips. you gently close the door and made your way over to him.

as you walk across the room, a bouquet of red roses catches your gaze. they were sitting on the small table in the corner of the room. assuming they were addressed to milo, you brushed it off, opting to ask about them later.

you lean down to kiss his head before sitting down on his lap. his arms instinctively wrap tightly around your waist. he breathed you in before saying, “i’ve missed you,”.

you bring your head to lay on his shoulder. “i’ve missed you more,” you kiss his neck softly before continuing, “today’s been a long day.”

“i have something for you to make it better,” he says in his softest voice. it always brought you so much comfort.

“hmm?”

he nudges your leg, signaling you to stand up. you do as your told, excited to see what milo has for you. after milo stands up, he grabs your hand and guides you across the room and over to the roses.

“they’re beautiful, mi. who are they from?” you ask, your head resting on his shoulder as you admire the dozen.

“me.” he responds simply.

looking up at him, you stare confused.

you lean into his touch as his hand comes up to graze your cheek. “i got them for you,” your heart swells at his statement.

“why?” you ask, thinking you did nothing in particular. “as a thank you. you’ve made this all so much more special.” he gestures to everything.

“oh, mi.” you say, your hands coming up to cover your face. he takes you in his arms saying a simple, “thank you.”

you turn to mush as you stare at the flowers. you pull away from milo, finding a small, white card placed between the flowers. you reach your hand out to grab it.

on it, the words scrawled in milo’s handwriting read,

“thank you for letting me get to know you.”

[where-dreamers-go]

I love your Dbh Connor writing 😍 can you please write something (if you'd like) in his pov of him realizing he *feels* for the reader, though he'd likely not know what that entails and what to call it. Just something introspective exploring his inner logic when it comes to his newfound deviancy? Thanks so much ❤️ I hope life treats you well!

“Feelings And Deviancy” Rk800 Connor x Reader

(A/N: Awh! I’m glad you’re enjoying them. Here’s a little something where Connor finds himself in a new routine with feelings he can’t pinpoint just yet. Warnings: Use of (Y/N) for your name. Word Count: 1,072 words)

Detroit held much to be discovered, especially when living was a new concept.

No more demonstrations or frantic humans in the streets.

It was almost quieter.

Connor took up walking to explore the city upon his deviancy. To rediscover the world.

Androids and humans were coexisting again. Nothing was perfect. Never was.

On one of his walking routes he had noticed a change. More life in a small bookstore beside an always popular coffee shop. The display window no longer appeared as a physical advertisement or thumbnail. No longer the attention-seeking images. Lined, stacked, and decorated with air plants were books. Physical books. Yes, there were always tablets for sale, but the display was not leveled. Nothing about it was symmetrical.

He was compelled to enter.

That was two months and two days ago.

Blinking, Connor found himself there again. The colorful bookshop in the shadow of quick service caffeine. He stood in front of the display. New books had been added, angled to show their spines, designed in detail to allude to the story’s tone.

Spying movement from inside, Connor moved to open the door and entered.

Familiar bookcases remained in their usual placements. Each shelf neatly arranged with books categorized by genre, author, and title. The usual.

I wouldn’t expect anything less.

Connor urged himself to search by sight and not scan. To take his time was a skill in need of practicing.

Light display flickering to yellow, he stepped further into the shop. He wasn’t alone inside. Towards the back, a couple of older individuals could be heard in hushed tones. They were regulars, almost every Friday.

He’s probably holding a stack of books for her again.

Connor found himself doing the same; visiting every Wednesday and Friday. Creating another routine.

What interest could a deviated android have in a bookshop?

Connor pondered on that question each day. Every time he would picture you instead of a simple answer. A connection to books, stories, and knowledge. The person responsible for decorating the shop’s window.

He found a particular interest in you, one of the shop’s employees. It started the first day you greeted him with your friendly smile and had yet to be stored away.

“Connor, hi.” Stepping around a table display, you waved to him while balancing three volumes in your other hand.

“Hello (Y/N).” He smiled, feeling something akin to happiness.

“How are you?”

Opening his mouth, ready to respond, Connor said nothing.

What was a truthful answer?

Connor sure wanted to know.

I am functioning properly, Connor thought. I’m not feeling any negative emotions. But they don’t want to hear that.

“I’m well.” He answered. “Thank you for asking.”

“No problem. I’m glad you’re well.”

At your smile, Connor took notice of his thirium pump increasing its speed. Something he was trying to look into over the past few weeks.

“How are you? Do you need help with anything?”

You laughed lightly and shook your head. “I’m pretty good.” Stepping over to the main counter, you added, “I can handle a few books. Just double checking these are in shelves too. Someone’s doing a pickup later. But thank you for asking. Again.” You sent him a teasing smile.

“Oh.” Connor stood still beside the counter, eyes downcast.

Embarrassment, he knew that emotion. Connor knew how it felt and it wasn’t his favorite. Feeling it while around you made him want to reset his system.

Do I ask to help them every time I’m here? Connor thought back to previous encounters and his embarrassment grew. I’m being polite. He urged himself to be more neutral with the fact of him wanting to help you.

Why wouldn’t he want to help you?

You were kind, had a good work ethic, and you made time to talk with him.

Connor appreciated you.

He appreciated other too, but he didn’t find himself trying to consistently learn their interests. That happened when he was with you, asking you handfuls of questions.

The more Connor learned about you, the more he could talk to you. Information one could not find online or in databases. Time one could not simulate.

“So what brings you here today, mister questions?” You inquired as you walked around the counter. Pulling out a tote bag, you placed the books inside one by one.

The corners of Connor’s lips lifted. A jolt of something registered through him. Not physical. An emotion that made him want to remain standing in your presence and perhaps hear you give him another nickname.

“I was wondering…”

You hummed shortly, letting him know you were listening.

“If there was a book you think I should read.”

Your eyes lit up in joyous surprise. “A million times yes.” You rushed out from around the counter and headed between a row of bookshelves.

Connor followed after you without hesitation.

“I don’t think I can just pick one,” you stated with two books in hand already. “So you have some options.”

“That’s great. Thank you.”

You sent him a smile over your shoulder. Then you resumed scanning the shelves, not wanting to miss a book you had in mind for him.

Knowing you already had options for him made Connor smile endlessly.

You thought of him.

They’re thorough. Connor thought as he got lost in watching you search.

Connor had never been around someone who he felt such a variety of emotions for. Deviancy hadn’t lasted long enough for him to name them all.

How could he?

The situation and environments he found himself in was calm and new. Full of books, unique displays, and people going about their business. Seeing you had become a constant. Something he could count on even if each time would be different, lively.

Connor did not have anything in his past to compare his present to.

If I had more context, he thought, I could figure out what I should be doing. I like their company. I know that, but big deal. That doesn’t tell me what to do about besides visiting them twice a week. But…I do like being with them.

Slightly frustrated with himself, he made sure to keep it to himself.

So, Connor remained standing, keeping you company during your shift, and making you laugh. Soon three books purchased and all his own.

What would come from him having feelings for you?

Connor hoped he would find out in his new way in life.

~~~

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful. coffee

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~~~

DreamerDragon Tags: @cubedtriangle

Detroit Become Human Tags: @shewhobreathesfire @

**Let me know if you would like to be tagged in insert readers, either through replies, ask, or message.**

[ultram0th]

31 Days of Derek Hale

Day 31: Tyler Hoechlin to Derek Hale TF

Info │ 01 │ 02 │ 03 │ 04 │ 05 │ 06 │ 07 │ 08 │ 09 │ 10 │ 11 │ 12 │ 13 │ 14 │ 15 │ 16 │ 17 │ 18 │ 19 │ 20 │ 21 │ 22 │ 23 │ 24 │ 25 │ 26 │ 27 │ 28 │ 29 │ 30 │ 31 🎃

Happy Halloween everyone! I hope you all enjoyed this Derek Hale Tf Marathon! It was so much fun to make, and I hope that you all liked what I put out!

-- -- --

Actor Tyler Hoechlin filtered through some emails to waste time before he had to get ready. The actor was supposed to make an appearance at some celebrity Halloween party for photo ops. He wasn’t above taking a picture here and there, but he hadn’t even began to think about a costume, nor had his assistant just grabbed one for him.

“I could just wear a bedsheet and go as a ghost?” Tyler chuckled to himself, thinking that it’d be so lame that it’d be good.

He deleted several emails from casting agents who thought that he’d be great in one of their low-budget horror movies that was supposed to go straight to steaming services. Tyler couldn’t help but grimace at doing anything horror related.

After spending so many years being cast as Derek Hale on Teen Wolf, the last thing he wanted to do was something spooky-ish, lest he risk being typecasted. Already, the actor played Superman on Superman & Lois, but he still had several people on the street referring to him as “Derek”. Of course, Tyler was grateful that so many fans appreciated his work on the MTV series, but there was a part of him that was ready to let the role go.

Which was why he’d frowned deeply at the email from Jeff Davis, the creator of Teen Wolf. Tyler begrudgingly clicked on it, scanning it a little until he got to the reason for the reaching out:

“…MTV is interested in rebooting the Teen Wolf series, and after the negative reception of the movie, the producers have decided not to count it as canon. Can we count on you to return as Beacon Hills’s resident Alpha, Derek Hale?”

Not even bothering to respond to it, Tyler moved the mouse towards the garbage icon to delete it. Before he could click it, his laptop screen flickered and an odd electric shock sparked out, actually shocking Tyler.

The actor recoiled his hand at the sensation, the electric shock sending a tingling feeling throughout the rest of his body for a brief moment.

“What the hell?” Tyler wondered aloud. He closed his laptop and shoved himself away from his desk, making a mental note to buy a new laptop tomorrow since his was obvious short-circuiting. 

He glanced at the clock on the wall and sighed, seeing that he was supposed to start getting ready for the party. Tyler rubbed his temples and walked towards the bathroom so that he could start getting ready. 

As he undressed, the actor could feel a little apprehension starting to seep into his bones about attending the party. The normally social Tyler Hoechlin, for some unknown reason, began to frown at the thought of being at a stuffy Halloween party that was going to be packed with people, wall to wall. The thought of being trapped in a room, shoulder to shoulder, with other people made Tyler shudder, and he began to think of reasons to bail. He thought that it was odd, but he chalked it up to his social battery just being abnormally low that night.

Still, Tyler told himself that he couldn’t just be a no-show. He’d promised his friend and previous costar, Dylan O’Brien, that he’d show up and the two could catch up over a drink.

Tyler could’ve sworn that his heart started to race in his chest for some reason, his limbs tingling with excitement. “What’s going on?” he mumbled to himself, confused as to why he seemed to be so giddy to see Dylan. “It’s just Stiles. I saw him last week…”

He coughed and cleared his throat, having no clue why he’d accidentally referred to Dylan as his old character, Stiles. Tyler shook it off and hopped into the shower. As he bathed, Tyler couldn’t seem to get Dylan out of his head.

“What is going on with me?” he asked himself, wondering why he couldn’t get the man’s dimples out of his mind. What was even weirder to the man was that his cock started to plump up, sticking straight out in front of him.

Tyler had never had a gay thought in his life, and despite seeing all of the Sterek fan art online, he’d never entertained the thought of him and Dylan together. Yet, for some unknown reason, the more he pictured his toned, mole-spotted body, his cock throbbed even harder.

“Fuck it,” Tyler grunted as he wrapped his fingers around his cock, pumping away.

Tyler was so lost in the pleasure that rippled throughout his body as he jerked off, bellowing out low moans the entire time. His free hand ran over his muscled chest, his fingers running through the thick pelt of chest hair—

“Wh-what?” Tyler grunted as he looked down, still playing with his throbbing cock as he stared down at his previously smooth chest. Despite having just shaved his pecs earlier that morning for some pictures as the smooth-chested Superman, Tyler’s chest was now covered in thick, black chest hair. The hairs covered his meaty pecs and ran down his stomach, connecting to his bush by a noticeable happy trail. “What the hell’s goin’ on?”

Tyler’s confusion was briefly forgotten when all of his large muscles tensed up, and his cock erupted with a spray of cum, shooting a large load against the linoleum of his shower. 

The stud was left panting, leaning against the other wall of the shower as he tried to catch his breath. Tyler ran a shaky hand through his wet hair, trying to piece together the fact that not only was his chest hairy, but he’d also just jerked off to another guy— one of his past costars at that.

“I guess Stiles is kinda cute,” he begrudgingly muttered, flinching for a second. “Um, I mean Dylan.”

Tyler finished up his shower and dried himself off in a daze, struggling to wrap his head around what was going on. He knew that something was up, but whenever he tried to concentrate on it, a new growing part of his brain told him not to worry about it. Even as he dried off his hairy chest, his panic that he knew should’ve been there was barely audible.

The actor was puzzling over it as he lumbered back to his bedroom to get dressed. He opted to grab a nice designer suit of out his closet, one that was supposed to make him look like 007. Yet, when Tyler pulled on the white button shirt, he huffed in irritation over how tight it felt.

“Damn it,” he grunted, unable to close the top four buttons of the shirt over his broad chest muscles. He tried his best to suck in his stomach in order to make himself smaller, but his fuzzy pecs were too large to fit into the tiny shirt. His wide back muscles were far too wide, and his biceps threatened to tear the expensive fabric to shreds. Tyler could’ve sworn that the shirt had fit him perfectly at the store, yet now it was at least two sizes too small for him.

With an annoyed huff, Tyler tossed the shirt to the floor and stomped over to his wardrobe to find something that would fit over his muscles. As he stared at the expensive clothes in his closet, Tyler couldn’t help but feel a large bubble of animosity start to form in his gut. The thought of parading around in such garish and over-priced threads was almost repulsive to him.

Without a second thought, Tyler hurried over to his dresser and yanked on a tight, gray tank top that barely fit over his large muscles. He pulled on some worn blue jeans that hugged his butt nicely. As the finishing piece, Tyler snatched a black leather jacket out of his closet and shrugged it on, feeling much more at home in it than he would some brand name suit.

Tyler paused to look at himself in the mirror before exiting his house, noting that he looked like he was wearing his usual outfit that his character Derek Hale wore on the set of Teen Wolf. He snickered and rolled his eyes, but then gasped.

“What the hell…?” his voice trailed off when he leaned in closer to the mirror, his eyes honing in on his teeth. As impossible as it seemed, Tyler could’ve sworn that his canines were bigger. They stood out much more prominently than the rest of his teeth, looking like the actor was wearing caps over them, trying to make them look larger and sharper. “I, uh, I guess these are supposed to be the sharper teeth… Shit!”

Tyler jerked back in surprise at the way his smooth, freshly shaven chin was now covered in a trimmed beard. The way his sideburns connected to it indicated that Tyler must’ve been growing out his facial hair over the course of a few days, maybe even weeks. However, he knew for a fact that he’d shaved his face not even an hour ago, letting him know that something was indeed wrong.

In disbelief, the hairier hunk grabbed at the hairs covering his chin, shocked that they were real and attached to him.

His heart began to race in his beefy chest, but he was quickly distracted when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Despite himself, Tyler snatched it out and glanced at the screen, his stomach doing flips when he read that it was a text from Stiles/Dylan.

Hey! I’m at the party! You’re coming, right? it read.

Tyler couldn’t ignore the giddy excitement that rippled through him, and he caught himself smiling like a goofball, his larger canines poking out of his mouth.

On my way, he responded, grabbing his keys and leaving his house. 

Tyler rushed over to his garage and opened the door, not even thinking twice before hopping into his black Camaro instead of his Tesla before he sped down the street towards the party, eager to see Stiles— or Dylan.

He floored the gas pedal as he rushed to the party, irritated when he hit a red light. Tyler groaned impatiently and rested his head against the headrest in irritation. His eyes glanced towards the rearview mirror, and Tyler gasped at what he saw.

He almost tore the rearview mirror off of its fixture as he leaned closer, seeing that his brow appeared much more prominent than it should’ve. That, and his eyebrows were missing for some reason. His ears had elongated, ending in points that protruded far off his head.

Tyler ran a disbelieving hand over his facial features, feeling ridiculous. He had just enough awareness to recall looking in the mirror on the set of Teen Wolf, seeing the same exact look whenever he was made up into Derek Hale’s beta form. Yet, he could feel the nerve endings whenever he touched his new canine ears, paling at what that indicated—

HONK! 

The car behind him blared its horn as the light turned green, snapping Tyler out of his panic.

Tyler just bared his teeth in the mirror and continued on his way. All of the cars on the road, the bright lights of the city, and the too poppy songs on the radio all seemed to get under the stud’s skin, and a firm scowl planted itself onto his handsome face.

It wasn’t long until Tyler pulled up in front of a large convention center that had a valet service up front. He stopped and got out of his Camaro, unable to hold back the intimidating snarl when he tossed the valet his keys.

“There better not be a scratch on it when I get back,” he muttered, noting the deeper quality to his voice. He cleared his throat as he walked up towards the entrance where a large bouncer stood, clipboard in hand.

“Name?” the bouncer asked.

“Derek Hale,” Tyler answered automatically, flinching and clearing his throat again. “Sorry about that, my name’s Der— er, Tyler Hoechlin.” He didn’t know why saying his name seemed like some Herculean feat, the actor having to clench his fists in order to get it out of his mouth.

The bouncer simply looked down at the list on the clipboard before nodding and ushering Tyler inside.

Tyler rubbed at his temples as he tried to piece together what was happening. However, the second he stepped foot inside, all of his senses appeared to have heightened as they were all assaulted at once. 

Tyler winced at the onslaught of stimuli: the lights in the room were far too bright and he had to nearly squint in order to adjust his sight; the music was blaring out of the speakers, blasting at a near deafening volume; and the stench of overpriced alcohol singed his nostrils, making him grimace. The stud was ready to about face until a familiar scent wafted by.

It took a few seconds for Tyler to realize that he’d been sniffing at the air like a search dog, blushing once he’d been made aware of the other celebrities eying him confusedly. Still, the familiar smell of curly fries alerted him to someone else’s presence, and he found himself barreling through the crowd towards the source.

Tyler’s gaze honed in on Stiles, the cute guy standing over by one of the tables. He was dressed in a suit that had a red coat that made Tyler’s heart flutter in his chest. Immediately, he felt his scowl starting to loosen up the slightest bit, and the more he approached, the quicker Tyler noticed the other guy talking to Stiles.

“Grrr…” Tyler growled out of instinct. As soon as the animalistic sound left his lips, the shocked stud slapped a hand over his mouth. He had no idea why he’d literally just growled like a dog, but once he looked back over at Stiles and the other man talking, he couldn’t prevent the sound from uttering from his lips once more, his large chest vibrating from the noise.

Stiles picked up on the noise and looked over in his direction, smiling and waving him over. “Hey!” he called.

Tyler ceased growling and couldn’t prevent the wide smile from growing on his face as he hurried over to his boyfriend— or past costar. As Tyler was trying to figure out why he was so eager to see the other guy, he wasn’t even aware of the fact that he wrapped a possessive arm around Stiles’s waist, pulling the smaller guy closer into him.

Stiles turned to the other man. “Jeff, you remember Derek, right?” he asked before furrowing his brow in confusion.

The other guy just looked over at Tyler and nodded. “I sure do,” he grinned, holding out his hand for Derek to shake. 

At first, the werewolf just sneered at the other man’s hand, jealousy still coursing through his veins. However, after a slight nudge from Stiles, Derek begrudgingly took it and squeezed it tightly, enjoying the slight wincing from the other man. “Nice to meet you,” he grunted.

Jeff didn’t look too fazed. “As I was telling Dylan, er, Stiles over here,” he said, “I was hoping to hear more about your stories in Beacon Hills. I’m with a large production company that would love to—”

“Not interested,” Derek interrupted, having absolutely zero desire to have his pack’s business advertised in any manner. He was as anti-social as they came, and the idea of talking to some big shot production guy made his headache grow.

Jeff frowned. “…yeah, I guess I did write him like this…”

Derek ignored that, and instead held on tightly to Stiles as he led him out of the crowd of people and towards the exit. They left the convention center and handed the valet the ticket.

“Der,” Stiles piped up, looking just as confused as he was, “um, how the hell did we get in LA?”

Derek’s brow furrowed too as he scratched at the back of his head. He felt like something was wrong, hearing some quiet voice in the back of his head that said that he wasn’t an alpha werewolf. For a brief second, his hairy muscles felt far too big and he wondered why he was so turned on by another man. However, the voice was immediately silenced when Stiles interlocked his fingers with his.

“No fuckin’ clue,” Derek finally said, shaking his head as he took the keys back from the valet. He and Stiles got into the Camaro, and Derek sped down the street back towards Beacon Hills. 

The alpha werewolf rested his arm around the headrest of Stiles’s seat, the motion making his large biceps stretch his leather jacket slightly. Stiles leaned in closer to him, resting his head on his broad shoulder. Derek couldn’t help but puff out his hairy chest with pride, his inner wolf howling with content.

Derek Hale smiled widely, absolutely loving his life.

[peskellence]

Pairing: RK900/Gavin Reed

Tags: Post Pacifist Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

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Summary: In the aftermath of Detroit's android revolution, Nines grapples with the complexities of his newfound deviancy. As he seeks to establish his place in a newly transformed society, his resolve is put to the ultimate test when he is paired with Detective Gavin Reed-a notoriously volatile human with a well-established hatred for androids-to investigate a series of murders.

While initial impressions of his partner seem to suggest his reputation is well-deserved, the more time Nines spends with him, the more he is forced to challenge his judgments. As they form an unexpected bond, the RK900 is also pushed to examine truths about himself he would much rather seek to forget. (A Retelling of 'More Than Our Parts' from the POV of Nines.)

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Depression/Self Destructive Behaviour, Eventual Smut

Word Count: 5.5K

Tag List: @sweeteatercat @wedonthaveawhile @gho-stychan @tentoriumcerebelli @negative-citadel @faxaway @moriahadi424 @unicorn4genocide @cptjh-arts

Nines hoped this newest witness would prove cooperative, allowing them to collect necessary intel as quickly as possible. Not just for the sake of appeasing their captain but because of a uniquely off-putting trend that seemed to be emerging in their inquiries. 

Namely, that every location visited was more repellent than the last.

At first glance, one could assume Mikey's Electronics had only been open for weeks, although a review of registration details swiftly contradicted this. The compact space was appallingly organised, resembling a seasonal pop-up store more than a longstanding business. Poorly mounted shelves and barren display cases were scattered haphazardly throughout the room, lacking any discernible logic or cohesion.

The entire room seemed coated in a thick layer of dirt, with a series of worn posters half-fused to the grubby windows—advertisements for long-past fairs and festivals, as well as another, more contentious feature Nines hoped to bring to the owner's attention.

As the officers stepped through the threshold, food molecules and dermal fallout wafted into the air, displaced by the shuffle of their feet.

The stench was appalling, overloading his olfactory channels. For a moment, the android was tempted to vacate the premises immediately, sacrificing any fledgling hopes of furthering their investigation.

The last few days had left him increasingly disenchanted with how disgusting humans could be. Reed, unsurprisingly, was less perturbed. He strode with confidence through the room toward a grimy register counter. 

A heavy-set man was stationed behind it, the impressive girth of his backside all but eclipsing the fold-out chair he lounged on. An inexpensive wireless headset—matching the specifications of those in a nearby display—sat askew over both ears. He scrolled idly on his phone, oblivious to their presence.

> SCANNING SUBJECT…

> SCAN COMPLETE.

> SCOTT, BERNARD MITCHELL 

> BORN: 06/29/1990 // REGISTERED BUSINESS OWNER — MIKEY'S ELECTRONICS.

> CRIMINAL RECORD: TAX FRAUD, EMBEZZLEMENT, HARASSMENT.

Lacklustre customer service, it seemed, was also a common trend amongst local businesses. 

The RK begrudgingly followed his partner. As they drew closer to Scott, a new wave of rancid odour entered the equation. The musk of sweat, both fresh and old, suggested it had been a disconcerting amount of time since the human last washed.

Scott was surely aware of his condition—though if he was, it clearly served as no concern. There was zero regard for self-presentation, which did nothing to aid his already unfortunate anatomical traits. His features were poorly balanced, squashed into the centre of his rotund face, leaving a wide margin of space on either side. 

Reed was first to break the silence, addressing him with surprising gentility—likely more than was deserved. 

"Hey buddy, how's it going?"

Scott responded with an uncouth snort. The resultant mucus was wiped with the back of his hand before being transferred to the front of a grease-stained vest. Reed bristled, his expression contorting in fervent displeasure, evidence that he wasn't immune to the more repellent aspects of his species.

"... Hello ?" he repeated, his tone growing thinner, less cordial than before. When Scott failed to answer, the detective leaned forward, snapping his fingers across the counter in an attempt to secure his attention.

In an obnoxious display of stubbornness, Scott slouched deeper into his chair, his attention consumed fully by his phone. Reed grunted in annoyance, poised to gesture again before Nines moved to stop him.

"He cannot hear you; there is no point in persisting." 

This was likely untrue, although he determined it would be the quickest way to dissuade the ritual.

Given the poor sound quality of the headphones and subpar noise cancellation, Scott had undoubtedly heard. Unlike with Walters, there was no uncertainty—he simply didn't care, making an overplayed show of appearing busy.

Nines' patience, already strained by their previous witness, felt a spiteful inspiration take shape in his mainframe. Musings wove themselves together, creeping forward in a way that proved impossible to resist.

"Not to worry, I am confident I can secure his attention." 

Under the guise of 'logical practicality,' Nines extended his reach. Fingertips hovered inches above one of the earpieces before he deactivated his conductive fail safes—sending a small charge of electricity rocketing through it.

The resulting feedback was unable to be contained by the flimsy plastic shell of the speakers. Scott recoiled, almost tipping from his seat as he yanked the device from his head.

The action carried an air of familiarity as if this wasn't the first time the product had malfunctioned in this way. Nonetheless, he was disgruntled, staring into the hollow of the cup and grumbling under his breath:

"What the fuck? Useless piece of—"

"Good day, sir," Nines said calmly, skillfully disguising any sadistic catharsis that had resulted from the performance. "We are from the Detroit Police Department—Officer RK900, Serial Number 313 248 317 - 87, and Detective Reed. There are a few questions we wish to ask you. If you can spare us the time."

Scott turned to face them, his head snapping up with abrupt speed. His beady eyes canvassed the android, jaw slack, only adding to his gormless appearance.

His sluggish mind clearly struggled to process the information he had been given—until his gaze latched onto the android's jacket, as well as the rhythmic pulses of light emanating from his temple.

The vacant expression contorted into one of disgust as his already compressed features tightened further. 

"...Actually, I was in the middle of somethin' important ." The words were spat viciously, to which Nines sidestepped, deftly avoiding the liquid debris. 

He noted the phone had been slammed indignantly onto the counter, screen facing down in an attempt to preserve privacy. 

The display may as well have been projected onto a nearby wall, it would have proved just as effective, but the android neglected to disclose this—yet. He was more concerned with how Scott's respiratory rates had spiked, combined with the nervous darting of attention down to the counter.

He was hiding something. To ensure no illicit material was being accessed, the android performed his professional diligence in scanning the device.

The results had his suppressed satisfaction grow significantly. Whilst not illegal, the material contained had nothing to do with work. Unless the man intended to begin trading in women's swimwear, as well as budget electronics. 

"—So no, I don't have time." Whether or not this was a conclusion to some prolonged rant or a direct continuation of the previous statement, Nines wasn't sure. He hadn't been listening. 

Scott spoke with surly confidence, puffing out his chest. Completely unaware of the compromising position he had landed himself in and the swift takedown about to transpire. 

"Are you sure about that?" 

His chest deflated, bravado slipping with it, as the indignant pinch of his brow loosened into confusion. He gawped at the android, awaiting an explanation that was withheld. Then, the stuttering wheels of cognition began to turn, and the man realised what was happening. 

He reached for the phone on the counter and hurriedly snatched it away. Clutching it protectively in his hand, stubby fingers clamped around the screen before it was shoved into the pocket of his sweatpants.

" Y-You can't be scanning my phone like that —!" he snarled, crooked teeth bared in a hostile sneer. "It's private property."

"There are no laws which prohibit the use of my scanners. Although, I suppose, some might consider it 'poor form.'" Nines hummed, relishing in his composure as the man in front of him grew increasingly uncomfortable—vitals fluctuating, tensing up in a mixture of trepidation and confusion—before delivering the finishing blow. 

"Much like viewing indecent material in a workplace environment."

Scott made no further attempt to save face. Just spluttered haplessly, reeling from the sting of his defeat. Wounds that would be licked, no doubt, in the form of one, or many, hedonistic indulgences later. Until then, he would settle for the comfort of insults hurled defensively at the android.

"You've got a lot of nerve. Coming into my store, insulting my lifestyle—"

"So you're the owner of the establishment?" Nines queried, allowing Scott to believe he had implicated himself in providing this information.  "While we are on the subject of legalities, I feel there is something I ought to point out." 

The RK executed a niggling subdirectory that persisted on his HUD. Aware they needed to move on to the crux of their enquiry but not wishing to allow the offence in question to slip by unaddressed:

> INFORM BUSINESS OWNER OF SIGNAGE VIOLATION. 

> CLASSIFICATION #6456

> HIGHLIGHTING OFFENDING CONTENT(S)...

He directed Scott to a poorly adhered sticker in his storefront window. The corner was peeling away, its bold text weathered and faded from prolonged sun exposure, but the oppressive sentiment it sought to convey remained staunchly clear. Looming over the establishment, like another foul stench:

NO ANDROIDS ALLOWED. 

"As you may be aware, recent changes in legislation mean that anti-android admission policies are no longer permitted. Displaying such notices constitutes a direct violation of the Android Equality Act and is punishable by fines up to $5000, or 6 months imprisonment."

Scott appeared unswayed by the details of his offence. Snub nose upturned with a dismissive snort, as though debating the fine print on a parking ticket rather than defending xenophobic propaganda.

"It's only been a couple months since the rules changed. Must'a forgotten to take that one down. My mistake." 

"A costly mistake should you fail to remove the offending material immediately."

The more Scott was challenged, the more incredulous he became. A lack of cooperation that did not come from meandering focus or misunderstanding, but knowing and targeted disrespect. 

"What the hell is your problem, officer ?" The title was hissed with callous amusement as though the punch line to a joke. Fingers were also raised and flexed in a rabbit-like formation. "Can't have been one for long, can you? Enjoying the power trip?"

Nines felt inclined to inform the man that, personal sentiments aside, attacking a police representative in this manner constituted yet another offence. The list of which was expanding at an alarming rate. 

He never got the chance, however, as his associate interrupted:

"Don't mind my partner—" Reed placed hands on the android's shoulders in a performative show of assurance. A gesture that felt far more condescending and distrustful than it did considerate. "It gets a little zesty when it's due an oil change."

This didn't help, making his alignment with Scott's antagonism all the more apparent.

Nines, frustrated, offered some resistance as Reed pulled him back. He remained stubbornly in place before ultimately resigning himself to the paltry attempt at force. With a reluctant step back, he permitted the human to guide him to the junction of two display cases.

"Look, I'll handle chuckles," Reed eventually spoke, whispering sharply once they were clear of Scott's wax-clogged earshot. " Just take a look around and do what you need to do. Okay?" 

Nines cast a withering look back to the counter. He witnessed as the 'chuckles' in question jammed a meaty finger into one of his aural cavities, further compressing the blockage. Some residual debris clung beneath an overgrown fingernail, briefly inspected before it was flicked away.

"Gladly," he said bluntly, agreeing to the suggestion. "That man is revolting. I doubt he's bathed in a number of weeks."

The two split up, with Nines left to commence a sweep of their wider environment. Moving down the lines of smudged glass cabinets, he noted an absence of security cameras mounted on the walls. An irksome detail but to be expected—given the owner's obvious reluctance to shave any minute sliver from his ill-earned profits. 

Instead, he turned his attention to the underwhelming merchandise. He inspected the phones available for sale, comparing their specifications with those outlined in the TSU report.

> ANALYSING MULTIPLE SUBJECTS…

> ONEPLUS 5T

> MANUFACTURER: ONEPLUS — RELEASED 2017

> IPHONE 13 PRO

> MANUFACTURER: APPLE — RELEASED 2021

> XPERIA Z1

> MANUFACTURER: SONY — RELEASED 2013

> NO MATCHES FOUND. 

He shifted focus to the price cards, searching for anything noteworthy beyond the inordinate markup applied on each product.

> INSPECTING BROADER ENVIRONMENTAL DETAILS — RETAIN CURRENT SPECIFIED SEARCH CRITERIA.

> SEARCHING…

As he completed his analysis, fragments of conversation filtered through his attention. The pair nearby were talking about a low-budget eatery that had predated the electronics store. Reed made the ever-insightful claim that their submarine sandwiches had been 'the tits', to which Scott grunted in vague agreement.

No doubt, the detective was attempting to sand off the abrasive edges of the man's demeanour, making him more amenable to ongoing questioning. The efforts proved successful, as following an exchange of personal introductions, Scott permitted a shift of focus towards the details of their investigation:

"Do you remember anyone suspicious coming into the store on January 13th or the days leading up to that?"

"Nope, no one of interest. To be honest, it's only the regulars I see comin' in these days. I don't bother them, and they don't bother me."

> SEARCHING…

"Anyone that might have bought an old Samsung Galaxy? "I'm talking 2010's old. Real hunk of crap. Probably a SIM card as well—AT&T?"

"Nah, I don't carry phones that old. Sorry." 

> MATCH DETECTED.

Nines pulled back, noting the strained inflexions of Scott's tone and flighty shifting of his gaze.

"That is incorrect," he said plainly, eager to address the deceit. "You carry several phones with a similar manufacturer date."

The man bristled at the sound of his voice. He turned to glare at the android as though his continued presence in the establishment served a mortal offence. "So what if I do? I don't remember the release dates of every fuckin' phone I sell."

"It is concerning that you seem unaware of the stock you carry. With such a negligent approach, it's little wonder your business is failing."

Both men stalled, receiving the statement like a slap of cold water. Reed was particularly dismayed, his head snapping around with an awkward jerk as he mouthed a sharp demand for his partner to disengage. 

The interjection came too late. 

Scott had not taken the insight graciously. His patience had dwindled, evident by the twin slaps against his meaty thighs. He then lumbered to his feet, the flimsy metal foundation of his chair creaking from the release of pressure.

"I'm sorry, Gavin, you seem decent, but I'm gettin' pretty sick of your 'partner's' attitude." He leered over at Nines, levying him with an accusatory point. "If you ain't got any more questions, I think we're done. Cus I ain't about to sit here and be lectured all day by some damn—" 

The RK900 interjected, cutting off whatever inflammatory remark had been poised on the man's lashing tongue. 

"I would refrain from finishing that sentence, Mr Scott." 

He refused to relent in exercising his authority, demonstrating exactly where his' power trip' might lead. Instead, he gave Scott a chance to re-evaluate his position and whether or not he wished to add both 'obstruction of justice' and 'verbal abuse' to his list of indiscretions.

"We have good reason to believe that one of your customers was responsible for the murder of an HR400 android, with the wares my partner just described having acted as accessories in the crime."

"I already told you, no one suspicious came around here." 

Nines resisted the urge to laugh in the man's face. He was so focused on maintaining his own meagre deception that he failed to notice when the favour was returned in full. 

"I can detect when you are lying. Besides, we already know they were here—we have a witness who is willing to testify."

The increase of pressure proved extraordinarily effective in shattering the human's confidence. Scott sunk into himself, the base ruddiness of his swollen cheeks turning to brilliant scarlet. 

"I, uh—" With no other options, he offered a weak repetition of his prior dismissal. "There was nobody suspicious…"

Nines did not hesitate to annihilate the mangled remains of his argument, pounding them into dust. 

"If your claim that 'only regulars' frequent your establishment is to be believed, then anyone new coming into your store would have undoubtedly struck you as 'suspicious'" 

He placed his hands on the counter, much harder than was necessary, to which Scott recoiled in dismay. His already strained heart rate skyrocketed, rattling in his broad chest, as his heavy breaths adopted a shaky cadence.

"So either you are misremembering things, or you are once again lying." 

Scott had already been nervous, but the emerging fear was a welcome addition, widening the cracks in his testimony. Nines sought to exploit this opening as he leaned across the station, positioning his face inches from the human's own. 

He delivered a firm nudge, this time mingled with a more overt hint of aggression. "I already know which one it is, but perhaps you could save us the time and admit it. Lest I make you."

The fearful glint in Scott's eyes ignited into roaring flames before he attempted to smother them beneath a blanket of contempt. 

"You can't threaten me—I know my rights—!" 

The prevailing tremble in his tone said otherwise. It was clear the man was uneducated in most subjects, including legal protections.

"It is not a threat, Mr Scott. It is a promise, should you like it to be."

While not the target of his assertion, it was evident Reed, too, was becoming influenced by its weight. His focus shifted uncomfortably between his partner and Scott as if subconsciously placing himself in the latter's position. He then shuffled back, establishing a greater distance between himself and the counter. 

It was an unnecessary precaution. Like Andrews, the RK had no real intent to harm their witness. A force that would be difficult to justify in their official reports…

That being said, he would gladly stretch the definition of 'justifiable self-defence' should the need arise. No doubt, the force would be effective in dislodging more stubbornly held information.

Despite all his profound cognitive deficiencies, it transpired that Scott was not this stupid. The innate human instinct for self-preservation triumphed over his loathing, and with a terse grunt, he disengaged.

"...Someone new came in," he muttered thinly, slumping back into his chair, which groaned in protest. "Few days ago, either Wednesday or Thursday, can't remember. Don't think he bought a Samsung. He wanted somethin' else."

"It would appear that he settled." Nines directed his hand towards one of the glass cases, calling attention to an empty space. "It just so happens that a Samsung S3 is missing from that display. It can't have sold that long ago, as you have yet to remove the price card."

"That don't mean he bought it", Scott fired back. A misguided attempt at confidence as he clumsily tried to deflect the questioning. "Could've sold it to anyone."

"Would you have any transaction records from that day? Perhaps these could provide some clarity."

Scott baulked almost immediately, beady eyes narrowed resentfully at the mention of 'records.' 

Admittedly, it had been a long shot. Nines doubted the man had any robust provisions for bookkeeping. A scan of the register revealed an antique with no digital functionality. The nearby card reader, depleted of paper, only confirmed his suspicions. 

"Whatever this guy may have done," the store owner began, his tone dripping with venom, "it doesn't have shit to do with me. So why am I being treated like a criminal?"

"If you truly had nothing to hide, then you wouldn't be so defensive."

"What the hell do ya want from me?" 

Nines raised a brow in bemusement. He held firm, hands crossed behind his back, and head tilted to one side—indicating to the human that the answer should be obvious.

Scott held his breath as though silently weighing his options before releasing it with a prolonged groan.

"Look, I'll tell you what I saw," he conceded, throwing his hands into the air, "but only if you promise to get out of my damn store."

"Agreed." Nines pivoted on his heel, gesturing smoothly to the notepad clasped in his colleague's lax grip. "Detective Reed, if you would be so kind as to take the statement."

This had been intended as a show of goodwill, a chance for his partner to take the initiative that had been spurned back at Cedars Motel. 

The forthright approach was underappreciated. 

Reed glowered at the android as though he'd suggested that he play in the traffic outside—a seemingly knee-jerk response to being told what to do.

Despite this, he pushed past his contempt. Silently whipping back the tattered cover of his notepad, his well-chewed pen was poised above it, prepared to take records:

"Just tell me anything you remember."

"Well…he was a little guy…maybe 5" 6?" Scott spoke in a dull, unenthused monotone—his sunken eyes drifting to a nearby window, focused on the streets outside. He scratched his chin, adding to the performance of concentration. 

"Bit round in the face, but built, you know? I want to say he was in his forties…oh, and he was wearing sneakers. Red hi-tops, men's size 7, give or take..."

Cross-checking the details against their suspect profile, Nines found several inconsistencies.

Two theories emerged as the reason. The first was that their current profile was riddled with deductive errors. The second, more compelling, possibility was that Scott's peculiarly detailed account was entirely fictional.

The man provided nothing but a list of trivial observations, with sparse to non-existent recollections of the actual interaction. Nothing was offered to explain why the stranger had proved so agreeable to purchasing the phone. Considering they had no prior interest in it, with it shilled at such an extortionate price.

Despite the gaping holes in logic, metabolic rhythms suggested Scott wasn't fabricating his account. At least not in the traditional sense…

Upon following the path of his diverted gaze, the answer clicked into place. Nines huffed in amusement, realising he had been providing a scrupulous description of the man in a dated headphone advertisement. 

It was clear their current witness would prove just as useless as their last—only with the added irritation of intentional misdirection.

He considered informing Reed, still diligently scribbling notes but decided against it. Nines did not wish to show too much of their hand, making it clear that he was aware of what Scott was doing and raising his suspicions unnecessarily. 

For now, he allowed the human to coast in ignorance. The influence of which grew more pronounced as he grew increasingly brazen. Grinning smugly, his dull tone adopting rising vibrance. 

He was exceptionally proud of his 'achievement' of duping the officers—the RK900 especially. 

Nines utilised the opportunity to comb through the data collected from his mobile phone. He had gotten a fairly comprehensive snapshot of its contents, including recently accessed apps and web searches. He was confident there would find something of note, aside from a leering appreciation for the female form. 

"—Hope that's enough for you to work with." Mikey huffed, notably out of breath after concluding his long-winded ramblings. He then directed a finger between the partners, eyes narrowed into contemptuous slits. 

"Now, you two make good on your word and get the hell off my property."

As they exited back onto the streets, Nines noted the eager bounce in his partner's step. Radiating an almost unsettling degree of positivity, given his usual surly demeanour, as he combed through the scrawled information he had meticulously documented in his notebook.

"Well, shit. Good call on that lead, tin can." The praise was delivered with uncharacteristic sincerity despite the childish nickname. He tilted the account proudly towards the android, a broad grin stretching from ear to ear. "Once we get this down to the station and have the boys draw up a sketch, we'll finally—"

"You may as well throw that description out. It is less than worthless."

Reed's enthusiasm shattered instantly. The smile slipped limply from his face, crumpled in a heap at his feet. 

"...What the fuck do you mean it's worthless ?" The sharp grunt was a smooth pivot back to his usual gruffness; surly tones edged with a budding degree of accusation. 

"It won't help in guiding our enquiries. The witness was lying." 

"Then why did you let me—" The sentence trailed off into aggrieved fragments, his voice falling and rising in line with the disbelieving arch of his brows. 

He ripped a page from the notebook, crumpling it into a tight ball. With a bitter sidelong glare at the android, he likely imagined the mangled paper to be his head before callously tossing it aside.

" Goddammit , Nines, were you on standby for the last 10 minutes?"

"Mr Scott was not prepared to relinquish any meaningful truths," the RK began, calmly justifying his actions. "Even if I had subjected him to physical persuasion, cooperation would have been unlikely. I was simply curious to see the lengths he would go to in maintaining his lie."

"And why is that?"

As they paced ahead and the storefront disappeared from view, Nines marked its location on his mapping software. The marker linked itself to Cedars Motel by a thin band of light. Timestamps were assigned, and the scope of understanding became more transparent. The crime scenes were also added, completing the visual projection of their killer's movements. 

As he worked, his navigational tracking guided him, maintaining a steady path back to the precinct. Reed, still visibly upset, followed nonetheless. His gaze locked on Nines, silently pressing for elaboration, boring impatient holes into his peripherals.

"...I believe he is covering for someone." He eventually offered—hoping to placate the human long enough to save the newly inputted data and prepare a more thorough explanation.

He dismissed the map, watching it slip from his HUD in sporadic glimmers of light as his vision returned to full clarity.

But not fast enough.

With both partners distracted, they had failed to notice a developing obstruction. The pedestrian rounding the street corner. 

Reed marched blindly into the stranger, and there was a simultaneous yelp from both figures as they staggered back. Nines autonomously calculated the force of the impact. The probability of injury was minimal, a low-force collision that was unlikely to have resulted in more than disorientation.

Despite this, Reed's entire body stiffened, and he mumbled a string of pained expletives under his breath. 

This only stopped as he glanced down at the unwitting victim of his stumble. 

It was an enfeebled-looking man, his unimposing stature stunted further by a noticeable hunch. He was clutching a wire-frame walker and struggling to steady himself with it.

The detective's gaze lingered on the scene before snapping towards Nines in an accusatory glare—as though he were responsible for the accident. The stranger then stumbled far more noticeably, and his bitter expression vanished, softened into apprehension as he moved to assist.

" Whoa , buddy—" He extended a hand towards the man, ready to support him should he topple over. "I'm sorry I didn't see you there."

The stranger looked at the officers, sunken eyes darting between them, filled with growing contempt. Focus soon diverted from Reed and locked squarely onto the android, his lips formed into a curled snarl as he snapped to address him: 

"Watch it, bot ." 

The barb was spat out alongside scattered molecules of hops and barley, its sharpness dulled only by the slurred edge of intoxication.

Reed retracted his arm instantly, snapping it firmly to his side. 

Despite his own unspoken accusations, he seemed disarmed by just how aggressively blame had been assigned—given he had already made his role as perpetrator known.

He muttered a strained reiteration in an attempt to de-escalate the situation. "Hey, cool it, gramps. I was the one that hit you…" 

It wouldn't have mattered what he had said. The drunken man wasn't listening, his bleary focus and venomous leers reserved exclusively for Nines. The surrounding world slipped from consideration as he drew closer, raising a crooked and pointing down the street. 

"You just came from Mikey's, didn't ya?" 

Clearly, the neighbourhood was even more barren than expected. The man's accusation came curiously fast, given his impeded state. 

It was no surprise that he was acquainted with Scott. Birds of a feather tended to flock, their contemptuous ideals asserting dominance in the gaudy vibrance of their plumage.

Nines may have let it go had it not been for the sheer plainness of the affront, zero provisions made to dampen or disguise it. 

"Didn't you read the signs? He doesn't want your kind in there."

Embers of resentment simmered beneath his chassis. The RK straightened, his riposte swift, as he challenged the man to repeat himself. "I beg your pardon?" 

The stranger refused to relent. His drunken courage spurred him to persist in the confrontation despite being so heavily weighted in his opposition. "You heard me. He doesn't want you freaks in his store. Show some damn respect."

"Mr Scott has no legal grounds to prohibit androids from his business," Nines deflected firmly, robbing the man of any satisfaction that might come from denting his confidence. "I had as much of a right to be there as any other person."

"You ain't no person." He was looked up and down, regarded with disdain and disgust that seemed fitting of an overflowed sewage drain. "They found a bunch of you in a warehouse the other day. I saw it on the news."

The RK despaired at the calibre of 'journalism' that may appeal to such an individual. Maintaining equanimity, despite a growing urge to arrest the stranger on the grounds of harassment, he informed that this detail proved as benign as a weather report in the current context. 

"I assume you are referring to unconverted androids? Given the recency of the revolution, it is quite a common occurrence. Nothing particularly newsworthy."

"No, I mean they found you. " 

The concluding word struck like a blow—harsh and unwelcome—before Nines reminded himself that the hateful individual likely didn't realise what he'd implied.

A generalised 'othering' of the group he held in such vile contempt. That was it, nothing more.

This was before contact was made with his jacket, digit jabbed forcefully against his identifier, outlining the lettering. A creeping dread emerged, pealing through the frayed lines of his already strained central processor. 

"They had your face. Hundreds of them. It's damn ungodly—how all you bastards look the same."

The words attached themselves to the lines, speared like tender hooks, piercing holes in the synaptic nerves. Gaps formed, flooded with the dull roar of static until an encroaching sentiment replaced the drone—loud and piercing.

Guilt. Remorse.

For all those who remained sealed in darkness. Unworthy, untrusted, never to be granted a chance to exist beyond their current confinements. 

Their uniformed ranks stood frozen in slumber, and he would never be allowed to forget.

"They tried to get those terrorists at Jericho in, but they wouldn't touch 'em with a ten-foot pole. So they locked them back up."

All because of what had happened. 

The damning role he, and the others, had unwittingly played.

“S0meth!#g's 2r0#̷̡̛͎̹͎͉͙͋̊ǧ̸̩̪̎̑;̸͓̙͛̈͆ ̷̛̪̠͑̍͛̚t̵̨̽h̴̪̦̭͍͎͓̿ȩ̵͕̭̟̫͎̎̀̈́ÿ̷̺̦͖̯̥̆͗̽̄*̴̡̧̱̱͎͙̀̑̽̇͆̓ē̷̛̮̭̲̈́͗͐͠ ̴͈̦̙̲͐̈́͋n̴̡̢̤̩̓͋o̴͇͛t̶̨͐—̸̹̩́̽̿̒͂̚”̴͓͈͍̌

“—̴̨̝̖̙̹͈͈̯̤̝̥̤͎̯̜̽̈͋̎̑͂̈̇́̿̄̈͒*̶̡̧̺̗̦͔̹̲́̉͌̓̆̊̽̀̔͌̒̚͝ͅA̷̡̺͓̭͕͚̗̘͊̈́͝͠9̴̢̠̣̞̩̥̯͉̗͓̥̖͆̈́͗̓͐̋̓̃̿̒,̶̡̤̞͖̤͉̣̞͙̩̣̌ ̶͓̻̥̣̲̘̺͓̱͖̆́͗̑͂͋́̏̈́̔ͅͅ2̵̨̯̥̝̼͕̈́͗́̈̊̊̅͊̆̈̐̿̋͘͘h̵̙̖̲͓͍͔͚̗̖̝̩͈͙̬̞́͋̒̄̋̐͒̋a̷̘͙̰͕̮͚̩͌͊̎́͋͛̈́̈́̉͊̌͗̐̃͝t̸͉͎̝͓̹͓̥̎͊̾̔͊͂̓͗̒̅͆͆̑͝͠'̶̫̲̞͕͙̫̯͓̯̮͈̦͖̳̖̹͗͋̊̈́ͅṡ̴̢̫̝͍̩̼—̸̨̧̗̻͎̝̞̟͎̹͓́͛̀͋͆̈́̌̅͂͊̃͒̽̎̀̍̕”̵̛̗̞̲̳̖̱̀͛̅̂̃́͌̀̎̆̕

> ERROR

> UNABLE TO EXECUTE MEMORY LOG ?@&£!* 

The splintered fragments of recollection were mangled and twisted beyond the point of reassembly. All he could recall now was the fallout, the full extent of the subsiding events buried in a tomb of corruption.

“He ca#̷̓̆ͅ'̷̩̳͘ṯ̵̢̂ 5̷̧̰̹̘̼̞̱̦̪̩͙̱̺͙̹̗̀̌͊̔͑͂͝t̴̨̮̯̭̣̳̣̬̲̟̩̲̥̺̱͕̆͛́̇̈́̕͜a̶̤̫̙͖̩͔̒̏͆̊̍̈́̑̔̍͜y̷̜͖͎̼̭̣̤̱̰̦͕͛̃͒̉̾́̕͜͝ ̷͔̇h̴̡͚̟̼͉̹̰͉̺̐͗͂̑͘͜e̷̡̲̖̖̪͓͕͙̙̍̔̈́̇̍̈̇͜*̵̛̛͍̤͙̦̪͆̈͛̉̒̽̚̕ȩ̶̡̠̺͓̮̫̟̘̩͕͇̰̅̓̐͜͜.̶̦̭̣͕͚͉̻̖̙̳̃̑̋”̶̢̡͈͕̥̭̬̙̠͙̱̠͇̓͜͜ͅ ̵̯͉̇͌̌̐̌̃͛̊͂̏̄͐͜͜͝ 

“!'m s̷̡̟̈́0̸̧͝ṟ̶͉̇r̵̥̾͊y̴̘̆ RK—”

"Seems like your own kind doesn't even want you." 

He was trapped in a hailstorm—blows beating down as ceaseless, enduring punishment. For events that he couldn't recall with any stable clarity. Unable to ever consolidate with them, or to answer to them honestly, taking accountability. 

An accountability that he was expected to take.

The man's voice had become white noise—almost entirely meaningless. Just another series of harsh, crunched decibels mingled with the discordant screams that rattled his mind.  He couldn't stay here—he needed to go. Gripped by a sudden, all-consuming fear of being pulled back into the dark.

"Do us—favour—go back—came from—" 

> I D0N'T W@NT T0 G0 £ACK—

"That's enough."

The forceful interjection brought him back to reality as the pressure on his wrists eased, releasing some weight from their unyielding shackles. A defence had arisen, providing Nines with the time to secure a lifeline, clawing himself free from his encroaching spiral. 

The protection had come from such an improbable source—inexplicable—that it left him reeling.

Reed stepped forward, positioning himself between the human and his partner. There was a moment when their sights met, and Nines caught a glimpse of his own astonishment reflected back at him. 

Then, it disappeared, either fading organically or hurriedly suppressed. He couldn't tell for certain.  Along with it slipped any lingering threads of geniality. 

The detective placed a hand on the thinly padded walker and applied pressure—an action which encouraged the frail man to back down without opening himself up to accusations of manhandling. 

"Run along, gramps. Your catheter bag needs changing."

The pensioner stalled, wobbling on the unsteady foundation of his feet before re-establishing balance. At the very least, as much as he was presently capable. 

" S-Smart-mouthed punk—!" He spluttered incredulously, reddened eyes trained on Reed as he glared viciously. "What's it to ya?"

" Detective Smart-mouth punk." The younger man retrieved the badge affixed to his belt, brandishing it in front of his face. "The plastic prick you are harassing is my partner—and we are in the middle of an investigation. So I suggest you skedaddle before I arrest you for causing an obstruction." 

The old man focused on the ID as though assessing it for authenticity before tutting in dismissal. He mumbled incomprehensibly under his breath, snippets alluding to some disparaging rant on the DPD hiring processes, as well defamatory remarks pertaining to Reed's sexuality. 

'Android-loving fairy' was the last audible comment before the stranger reoriented his walker and angrily hobbled away. 

"What a peach," the detective remarked dryly before swiftly changing the subject—as though the previous interaction had never occurred. "You were saying. About this guy trying to protect someone?"

Nines could not move on so quickly, disoriented by the speed at which it had all transpired. He couldn't make sense of it. For what reason had Reed opted to intervene? 

With no insight into the intricacies of his internal struggles, it would have been fair to assume the RK was more than capable of handling the situation. His partner, more than most, had experienced firsthand just how assertive he was willing to be.

Nines could identify no motivation for his actions, even within the confounding, often erratic, realm of the detective's behaviour. It troubled him greatly, plunging him into a well of ruminative introspection. So deep it escaped his notice that Reed was still awaiting a response. 

Interest soon waned in the discussion, and he dismissed the point with a shrug of his shoulders. 

"Whatever. We can talk later."

The android followed blindly after him, his stalled navigation software having failed to recalibrate. He was going through the motions, suspended in a mindless haze, with limited conscious input. A state that a human might liken to shock. 

With the same mindless autonomy, his lips began to move, having paced alongside Reed in silence for quite some time. A silence he would have otherwise revelled in, were he able to escape the feeling it ought to be filled. 

Then, a performative nicety escaped. One that undoubtedly had been instilled by RK800 and his persistent social conditioning.

"Thank you." 

Reed recoiled from the gratitude. As though the words had adopted a physical form and struck him cleanly in the face. "...Sorry, Nines, I think I'm hallucinating. What did you just say?"

"Thank you," he reaffirmed, slowly, purposefully, as stunned as the human that the words were leaving his mouth. "I was surprised how readily you jumped to my defence. Given how much you supposedly despise me. And that you likely agreed with the vast majority of what that man was saying."

"I didn't—" The rebuttal came quickly, burning bright and fast, an instinctive defence against a perceived attack on his character. As Reed paused, reflecting on the implications, his conviction deflated significantly. "Well. Not everything, anyway."

"I would wager you agreed with enough," Nines said plainly, looking ahead, attempting to reorientate his navigational routing. "Given your previous assertion that they should have left me 'in the warehouse to rot'"

The detective bristled at the reminder, clearly perturbed. Perhaps he had likened the mistreatment of his partner to something else. An attack against those disadvantaged or marginalised for reasons he assigned more credibility…

The man himself appeared to oppose this hypothesis. Shaking his head, standing in staunch denial that anything of the sort had transpired.

"That guy was wasted—I wasn't going to stand there all day and listen to him run his mouth. I told him to beat it because he was pissing me off. That's all."

He was lying.

Reed's character profile was loaded autonomously onto Nines' HUD, flagged on his systems, demanding immediate review.  Anomalies presented themselves again. This time, with even greater force. 

They cut and slashed at previously established criteria, a fervent demand to be acknowledged:

> SUGGESTED CHANGES — 'DETECTIVE GAVIN REED'

> REED SHOWS COMMITMENT TO THE CARE AND WELL-BEING OF HIS [ REDACTED ]

>PET.

> PROFESSIONAL INFERIORS.

> VULNERABLE INDIVIDUALS. 

> BEHAVIOUR COMES AT THE DETRIMENT OF HIS OWN PERSONAL WELL-BEING.

> DETECTIVE REED DEMONSTRATES SELFLESSNESS. 

> ACCEPT CHANGES?

"...Nevertheless, I am grateful."

In the wake of all that had just transpired, Nines was forced to concede that—perhaps—he had refused to lend the prompts rightful consideration previously. That mingled within preposterous statements; there existed grains of truth.

"It would appear my assessment the other day was accurate," he began, citing his previous exaggerations—shameless attempts to get under the detective's skin—which now seemed to bear more significant weight. "Past all the rudeness and forced bravado, there exists a kindness in you. Even for androids."

Reed dismissed the notion with a prolonged groan. 

"Don't you start on that sentimental bullshit," His stride lengthened, the pace increasing, until he was stood at the edge of a nearby crosswalk—fractiously waiting for the light to change. "I should have left you to deal with the old man, you smug fuckin' prick."

A warmth emerged, genuine and sincere, giving Nines no time to process its sudden arrival. Before he knew it, the gratitude had expanded, unable to be contained.

The corners of his lips pulled upwards, and he smiled. 

An occurrence that appeared to leave Reed just as bewildered as him. He openly gawked at the android—as though he had sprouted an additional limb or burst into flames.

His heart rate spiked, beat stuttering, and he averted his gaze with as much exuberance as he'd held it. The light switched, and he stormed ahead. His head lowered, and his hands shoved deeply into his pockets, refusing to spare so much as a backward glance.

Nines stood alone momentarily as an unanswered prompt blinked on his interface. Flickering repeatedly until he provided anxiously awaited input:

> ACCEPT CHANGES?

> CALCULATING…

> …

> …

> CHANGES ACCEPTED. 

[tuliptired]

Hey! If you don’t have much stuff to write I just had a fun scenario I would like to see.

I’ve had the idea of all the Ghostbusters interacting with an almost friendly ghost.

Like, the reader, is a ghost who haunts the old fire department and, for some reason, the busters can’t get rid of them.

But they aren’t a bad ghost. Do they cause a little mayhem? Yeah, but they don’t harm people.

Maybe everyone is a little weary because, let’s face it, they’ve all been through some stuff and expect a possible negative outcome.

… that’s all! Thanks lovely!

You Don't Hear what I'm Saying (Do You?)

Pairing: Ghostbusters & Ghost!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death

90% sure this gif is from frozen empire but haiiii

Better formatting on Ao3!!

Your last moments were, funnily enough, the foggiest in your memory. You always remember the parade running through the streets for a new mayor, generally just a reason to be jovial for a while. You can remember the rain falling from the sky, sending everyone inside for a minute, and you can remember the firehouse you took refuge in. What you can never recall is why exactly you woke up, presumably weeks later, with a splitting headache and no tangible body.

When you got over the shock over your new form, it was hard to come to terms with dying, to know that you inadvertently left everything behind without ever meaning to. Death always seemed so far away to you, as the thrill of the Progressive Era lingered in the air. It was even harder, to know that you’d never be able to leave the confines of the building you passed in. True, you had all the time in the world to explore, or test out your new abilities as a spirit, but it just made you even sadder, to disturb these hardworking men and be reminded of their livelihoods as they served the city. So you slept, invisible to the world and for as long as you wanted to escape thoughts of hopelessness. 

Ghost-sleep wasn’t the same, though, not nearly as satisfying as sleep when you were flesh and blood. It was more like suspending yourself in a different state of matter for a while- something you would have never understood until you actually felt it. You didn’t want anything to do with anyone anymore, tucking yourself into the farthest and darkest corners and letting yourself stay dormant for years upon years. After a while, you’d be brought back to consciousness by a dull and throbbing pain in your head, forcing you back “awake”. Time had managed to slip your grasp, the firehouse eventually defunct and destitute in only a matter of time, its rundown interior only giving you more motivation to hide away from it all. In the simplest of words: you were in a neverending state of loneliness.

“I’ll be one minute!” Ray called over his shoulder. He went up the steps of the firehouse, until he was at the seldom used third floor. This place needed a good sweep, maybe a dusting, but that could wait. He had something much cooler in mind.

Ray moved a creaky shelf, looking around for a quick second before he did. “Are you here? You can come out now,” he stage-whispered.

You materialized behind him instead, smiling shyly as you peeked out from the shelving. He was so, so lucky. A ghost! Living in his attic! Technically, the attic of his ghost extermination service, but the little details didn’t matter much. 

Not long ago, he was up here to stuff some of Peter’s junk in the tiny bit of storage they had. A chill ran up his spine after dumping it, hair standing up on end. There was no way, right?  He scanned the room silently, not daring to breathe or move too hard or too fast. His hopes rose.

Ray swallowed. “Any ghosts up here, come out so I can see you.” No answer. “...we can play a game.”

Still nothing but the sounds of the air conditioning. His posture dropped in defeat- it was wishful thinking, anyway. Ray turned to leave, before he was willed to spin around. Another chill, one that ran down to his bones, racked him, eyes bulging wide as the figure of an early 20th century spirit appeared before him at will.

You didn’t attack him, or wreck the room. You just stood there, blinking occasionally, looking just as freaked out as he was. You were a ghostbuster, Ray! You’ve seen ghosts!

He snapped out of his stupor. “Oh yeah! The game!” He stared at you for a few more seconds, before scouring the room for something. To be fair, he didn’t really have a plan. Ray just thought it’d be pretty cool to have a ghost friend around- who wasn’t Slimer. And now he’s got one! Maybe. He emerged with a little ball, wondering why the hell four grown men owned one. He set himself up for catch, watching as you hesitantly raised your hands.

It fell right through you. Obviously. 

Since then, through trial and error, you both compiled information about yourself. For one, you couldn’t talk- at least not much. He’d have to look into that, but it could be something you’d just have to relearn. Secondly, your control over physical objects seemed touch and go. You could interact with some things, but not others- and he suspected that it had something to do with the material’s age relative to your own. You could travel freely, fortunate for you and troublesome for him. Ray had a new experiment this time, one he thinks you’d like. 

“You’re from 1902? 1904?” Ray asked, zipping open up a cloth bag that hung around his neck. You put your shoulders up- understandable, you’d been dead for a long time and out of commission for a while. “Well, have you ever had your picture taken?”

He watched as you eyed the Fujifilm in his hands curiously. You shook your head, gazing down at it like it was an object of a folktale. You nearly reached out to touch it, amazement making you forget your current predicament. 

He smiled at your wonder. “Do you want one?”

Ray laughed as you nodded wildly, adjusting the phantom clothes that died along with you. You picked a spot that was freer from clutter- near the lab and sitting area, and tried to channel the portraits of dignitaries and upper class families that you only ever dreamed of being a part of.

With a few quick snaps, the best one printed, and it was only a matter of waiting until it would develop. You were impatient- surprised at how quick it took to manifest but annoyed at the dark square that became clearer at only a snail's pace. 

“You gotta be patient,” he teased you, protecting the delicate film. “You’re just like Egon.” Your expression dropped, and Ray let up slightly. He felt bad, accidently bringing up his friends like this. The friends that you weren’t allowed to meet, otherwise they’d trap you almost immediately. “They’ll come around. Just give me some time,” Ray promised with a small smile.

You nodded, seeming to understand. Ray’s short gasp tore you from your melancholy, showing you the now developed photo between two fingers. “Look at that,” he said softly, grinning as you inspected it. If he was right, it had to have been decades since you had seen your own face.

“Ray!” a voice called from far below, impatient. He clicked his tongue, carefully leaving you with the photo where you could see it without having to move anything. As he reached for the doorknob, the room was shroud in darkness before illuminating again. You stood proudly, if not a bit coy, flicking the electricity on and off with pure physic energy a few more times.

Ray beamed. “Hey! You learned lights!”

Another quiet day. You counted the front door opening and closing twice from your spot upstairs- Winston lets the door drag, you learned, and Ray lets it slam. That left Janine, the woman you always hear at the very front desk, and Egon, the man you’ve seldom heard any noise from. According to Ray, he’s been spending more time in the lab than anything. Peter, the one with short footsteps, typically sleeps during these drags in the day, especially after a long night like the kind they had prior. It felt oddly comfortable, to familiarize yourself with their routines, though you had no idea what they looked like. How much could you learn about someone, when you observe them without eyes?

You could tell how sunny it was outside, growing jealous that they could soak up the warmth of the world while you were stuck at the top floor with very little natural lighting. Ray would understand, right? One quick trip couldn’t hurt. Everyone was too preoccupied with their midday activities, and if they did happen to see you, you’d scramble back to safety and just deny. 

The sliver of light streaming in from the large window in the hallway felt lovely. You feel things differently, when you’re only a soul. There was almost a hypnotic property in the way you were able to bask in the wake of dancing dust, floating along the beam, and you swore your vapors were growing more and more vivid. Thank goodness someone left the drapes open- they’d simply passed through your fingers. Your senses, however, heighten when you’re a ghost. You could tell someone was watching you, and when you turned, it was a resident of the firehouse, disheveled from sleep and pointing one of those vacuum-wand-gun things Ray had tried explaining to you.

Instincts carry you to the safest point of escape. You could hear the man shouting into the vent, probably on the edge of his toes, the presumed image amusing you. 

“You’re in the walls?” He hollered incredulously, voice bouncing off the metal. “Not fair.” When you never answered, he stormed off, short footsteps growing further and further away, before pittering back. “Stay off the second floor. Egon’ll see you.”

Winston had the hood of their vehicle propped open, doubled over into it and covered in dark oil. Ray was in bed, sleeping just like Peter was that one day after loud alarms and wailing sirens called them out to a job late that night. You had paid his snoring form a quick visit, but now you just watched Winston, no meddlesome plan in mind as the large white car intimidated you a tad. He shivered, dirty hands running across the length of goosebumped arms before he went back to work.

“I know you’re there.”

You blinked, slowly becoming visibly as he continued to crank a wrench around the soiled engine. “Ray’s terrible at keeping secrets. And it’s 5 degrees colder in here.”

So much for subtly. You were at least a little disappointed, before he spoke again. “Are you gonna possess me?” You shook your head. “Slime me?” No. “Chase me around?” Probably not.

His defenses dropped as he eyed you up and down, looking as stereotypical as a ghost could in your turn-of-the-century outfit and mystic state. “You’re lucky he has no survival instinct,” he pointed the wrench at you, “it’s like second death in that containment chamber-”

Winston saw you frown, softening. Not very nice, you thought. 

“I’m sorry. Not cool, talking about death with a ghost, right?” You nodded. He wiped his hands on a spare towel. “And you’re stuck downstairs all day?” shaking your head, you pointed upstairs. All the way upstairs.

You started away from the car. What a gaudy thing to drive around in, you thought. You trusted Ray’s judgment, but not on this. Winston must’ve noticed, asking in disbelief, “you’ve never been in a car?”

You rolled your eyes defensively, and he just chuckled at you. Of course you’d been in a car! Just- not giant white hearses with junky gear strapped to it. Winston only laughed harder, holding the door open for you. “Wanna see this one?”

You swallowed- or, you would, if you still produced saliva. Careful to not fall through and onto the ground, you hesitantly lowered yourself into the seat, jumping slightly as he suddenly turned on the engine. “How is it?” You didn’t answer as he took his spot on the driver's side, and when he looked over, you held out the molecules of your hand, bouncing with the vibrations of the car. Forget how it looked- being in a car was fun. The things you appreciate more when you’re a ghost.

“What else can you do? As a ghost?” You thought about it, before leading him upstairs and pointing to the closed blinds by the large window. He didn’t hesitate to open them, watching as you glowed brighter under the light. 

“Sun-basking,” Winston smirked. Just then, the phone started to wail throughout the firehouse, and Ray joined his friend, rushing down the steps, as Winston couldn’t stop snickering.

“What?” Ray questioned, startled awake.

“Nothing, nothing.”

It wasn’t until after their hour long job that Ray realized he had pen all over his face. And, that you were starting to get restless.

You knew Ray would be at least a little anxious that you were out and about, but you just couldn’t help it. You had friends- or at least, people who had no choice but to be around you. Peter tried to trap you a few more times, to “keep you on your toes,” but you always found new ways to escape. Janine had nearly spilt coffee all over herself when she first saw you, trying to figure out her desktop radio, but you were forgiven after demonstrating your best laundering tips from when you were alive. Now, she lets you listen whenever you want, as long as it was an agreeable station. You’d even met Dana, awed at how much she resembled early 1900’s aristocracy. Louis was so easy to mess with that you’d lost track of what you’d done. And it was fun, to stay out of sight and follow Ray around, keeping your laughter to yourself as he shuddered and continuously checked the thermostat. 

Peter loved to step on your metaphysical toes, especially in the comfort of night. “What-” he flipped on the lights, watching as you sat in the middle of dozens of lit candles, trying to conduct your own personal seance.

“This is where all my red candles went?” he gestured around you. Whoever you would have contacted has definitely flown away by now.

“If you wanted a nice ghost friend, we would’ve introduced you to Slimer.” And who knew, fellow specters could get slimed? He was a clingy friend at first, but he quickly came to terms with the fact that you had no interest in eating.

Your little antics got bolder and bolder as your new friends started to drop their defenses. Switching around their boots, long john’s or pajamas was always fun whenever you got bored- though it got Winston taken off of laundry duty. He could’ve snitched on you, but he never did, and you silently thanked him with your best attempt at brewing coffee. The mug of water you planned to pour into the pot ended up slipping out of your phantasmic grasp, so that was the end of you trying to do favors.

Back to observing. You had been invisibly watching Slimer finish what was left of breakfast, before Peter came in and chased him out. He must’ve been forced to take care of the piling dishes in the sink, because he worked so hastily that a ceramic plate nearly flew out of his slippery hand. You caught it, not wanting the nice glassware to shatter, bashfully revealing yourself.

Peter stared at you, before turning back to the sink like it was the normalest thing in the world. “Oh. It’s you. Listen, Spooky-” he dried a dish, “I heard you learned ‘lights’. That’s awfully cute, but Egon would have my head if he knew I let a ghost run around. My job is to catch you, and you don’t want that. So, scram.”

Peter was officially off your list of friends. What’d Dana see in him? You irritably stalked off, disappearing from sight again.

“It’s still freezing, I know you’re still here.”

Maybe Slimer was better company. Before you could depart, Peter sighed, leaning against the edge of the sink as if he was surveying the amount of dishes he had left to clear. Reluctantly, he turned to you, starting your ascent to the ceiling.

He holds out a dripping cup. “If you help me dry these, I can open the blinds for you.”

Egon walked in then, and you were back to being as clear as air. “Who’re you talking to?” he glanced up from a notepad. Peter’s under eye twitched, and your whole body quaked as the scientist unknowingly passed through the space you occupied. He didn’t say anything, stilling as his shoulders tensed slightly. 

“No one. Say, Egon, how’s a little pool? I’ll let you win.” Peter dried his hands off. Egon didn’t say anything, instead pulling his lab coat closer to himself.

“It’s cold in here,” he stated, pulling up the hefty window. What’s better than sunlight through glass? Sunlight from the source. You settled in euphorically on the sill, ready to sleep for a while. Thank you, Egon- no chores and a great nap. You could continue to dislike Peter, but you did overhear him encouraging Egon to keep the windows open whenever he thought you weren’t around.

Ray sighed, shutting the door to the attic solemnly. It had been a few days, and you hadn’t shown up in some time. Not a sock misplaced, car keys never once being clipped to the back of belt loops rather than the front. Winston had no ill intent, even bringing up your absence a day or two ago. Peter had promised not to try and trap you anymore after he slipped up and attempted it while Ray was turning the corner. Janine wouldn’t, Louis couldn’t…where’d you go?

Egon. It had to be. One surprise, one unsuspecting door being opened…he couldn’t even begin to imagine what could be happening to you in the containment grid. Ray flushed with worry, hurrying down the stairs and bounding into the lab as quickly as possible. “Spengs! Let ‘em go!”

The bespectacled man sat in the dark laboratory, hands wrapped around a cup of what must’ve been tea. There were roots, windchimes, and other trinkets that Ray recognized as objects for attracting the otherworldly placed around the room.

Egon calmly took a sip of his tea. “What’s wrong?” Ray blinked, catching his breath. There you were, not stuck in the mechanics of the containment unit but in your approximation of sitting in a chair, not drinking your tea but enjoying the steam billowing into you.

“But- I thought- you-'' Ray stuttered. 

Egon flipped through a few notes. “I’m not that dense, Ray. And they’ve been a interesting topic of research,” he held up what looked like a much more intensely detailed account of your past life. Ray squinted, skimming past dates, addresses, family names.

“I thought you couldn’t talk!” Ray put his hands on his hips, reeling from all this new information.

You simply shrugged, smiling guiltily.

“You’d be surprised. Did you know they learned lights?”

[vintagelasvegas]

Last Frontier Village, c. 1948

Old West-themed service station and theme park on the grounds of Hotel Last Frontier, Las Vegas Strip. Signs for Desert Spa and El Playtel motels behind the women in the first photo. Scans from negative by Vintage Las Vegas.

[jpitha]

Between the Black and Grey 41

First / Previous / Next

They streamed aboard the frigate. Fen, Northern, and Zhe ran to the command deck while Stormy headed to the AI core. After a minute or two, they could hear her over the ship's PA.

"Fen, this place is brand new! It still has that 'new starship smell'. I haven't smelled that in a millennium at least!"

Zhe sniffed the air, and her ears flicked. "It doesn't smell different to me."

"No, no, like it's a metaphorical smell. The ship is brand new that's all. I'm used to Starjumpers that have been in service longer than nations."

"While I appreciate all of this camaraderie-" Northern began, "The fact remains that we are under attack by the Empire and should leave."

"Sheesh. Is she always like this?" Fen could hear the smile in Stormy's voice. "Sit down then ladies, and buckle up."

As the three of them sat, belts snaked out from the seats and wrapped themselves around them and pulled just this side of too tight, and then when Fen breathed in, they loosened. There was a wobble in her inner ear as Stormy lifted off and the gravity changed from Picaresque to the ship. Fen heard a whining whirr above the normal thrum of the engine.

"Stormy, what was that?"

"Oh, I just freed the weapons. Call it experience, but I think we're going to need them. Speaking of, permission to apply War Emergency Power?"

"Uh, Yes? What's that?" Fen glanced at Northern.

"Ancestors, what a newbie. Northern, explain it please."

Northern ran her hand through her hair. "Human starships have always been over powered. If you run a high output reactor at a lower output it lasts longer, right? So that means that we always have power to spare. War Emergency Power means that you give Stormy permission to remove all the limiters and fuses on the reactors. Power output will greatly increase. She'll be able to wormhole link multiple times in succession - no waiting for the capacitors - all while firing the main battery and the slug throwers."

Fen raised an eyebrow. "But?"

"But it's dangerous." Stormy answered. "It's rare, but reactors can overload. Link the wormhole generator away, blow the battery, hell, blow the whole ship - though that's only happened once or twice. Most of the time a reactor overload is just a hassle." There was a pause and the thrum of the reactors seemed loud on the deck. "We're up next though, so you're going to have to choose."

"I approve War Emergency Power, Stormy, but do be careful."

"Hah! I'm always careful Fen. How do you think I lived this long?"

"Yes, but how many bodies have you gon---eeeeek"

As soon as they cleared the hangar, Stormy applied full thrust and fired a brace of juke charges along the side of the ship. Normally used only for last minute ducking around missiles, Stormy was using them to steer the ship in an erratic way as they thrusted away from Picaresque.

"Contact! Four Super Dreadnoughts trying to hide in the corona." Northern was hunched over a sensor station. "Seems like they're doing some wide angle scanning. They haven't changed their behavior yet."

"Four of them?" Zhe looked over at Fen and her ears flattened. "They don't know about you, right?"

"I don't see why they would. They're looking for the Empress. Speaking of-" She looked up at Northern. "Do you see her yacht in the system?"

"Negative, they must have linked away before the party started."

Suddenly there was a sound like cloth tearing, but lower, deeper. Fen felt it in the soles of her feet. It was the slug launcher. "Stormy, what was that?"

"Sorry Fen, I'm a little busy." Fen's inner ear did backflips as Stormy applied the thrusters asymmetrically and they spun in place. There was a sound like a thunderclap, and then three more in quick succession. The main battery. "Hooo, the Empire loves to pack the weapons on. I swear I didn't have this much firepower when I was a Starjumper!" Stormy is laughing.

"What's going on, Stormy?"

"Just watch on the screen."

Fen activated the screen at her seat. One side was a wireframe map of the system, and the other was a virtualized overview of the current battle. The four Supers were still out in the corona, but there were two battlecruisers that had linked in just moments ago and were firing missiles at the ships streaming away from Picaresque. Fen watched as there were white flashes as the missiles appeared in front of a ship, and rocketed into the nose. It exploded in a silent fireball.

"The missiles have wormhole generators?" Fen's voice cracked and her eyes were glued to the screen.

"Yeah, I remember when they thought of it. Back then the generators were too large and power hungry for it to work. But, I suppose with some of the knowledge transfer from the Sefigans and the Gren's miniaturization tech..."

A lucky shot rang off the hull, sounding like a stick hitting an empty can. The displays at Fen's chair flashed orange and the wireframe of the system was replaced with an overlay of the frigate with sections towards the rear outlined in orange.

"Fen, we've been hit!" Zhe is scrolling through the readouts as fast as she can. "Looks like mostly superficial. The ablative coating on the hull took most of it, but if they hit the same spot again, we're in trouble. Er, in more trouble."

"We're not going to take on four Supers." Stormy continued to evade the shots, but she was right, they couldn't take on the attackers. "Captain, where are we going?"

"I don't know, Stormy, I didn't think I'd have to decide right this second." Fen looked around the room. "I'm open to suggestions!"

"We could go back to the Heap, Daddy told me where they moved to." Zhe looked over at Fen, her eyes bright with hope.

"You know where the Heap is?" Stormy sounded impressed. "I figured that place was just a legend. It's up to the captain, but I'm up for the trip."

A sound like hail assaulted the hull. More lights lit up on Fen's display.

"That'll be the slug throwers. They're too far out to do more than annoy, but Fen, really. It's time to go."

"Uh" Fen looked at the radar, and then the ship schematic and then up at Northern and Zhe. They were both staring at the pads at their stations, trying to figure out what to do next. Fen was pulled against the seatbelts as Stormy did another aerobatic maneuver to get out of the way of something. "Fine, fine. the Heap. Stormy, link us to the Heap please. Zhe give her the coordinates."

"Already entered in, Fen. Stormy, do you see it?"

"I got it Zhe, Linking away now."

****

Fen sat up. She was in the K'laxi ancestral forest again. Ma crouched near her on the balls of her clawed feet. "Hey Fen. Doing some traveling? I don't see you for nearly a year your time and then you show up in quick succession. Makes me think you miss me." Ma winked and her ears flicked.

"Ma, I miss you every moment of every day. So many decisions would be easier to make if you were still with me." Fen pushed her self into a cross legged position.

"Well, I'm only a link away." Ma sat on her lap. "What's wrong hon?"

"Gord removed the Nanites."

"Yes, we know. What do you think of that?"

"I don't know. I think it's good?" Fen shook her head, like she was trying to clear it. "They didn't seem like they had my best interests in mind, but also they had a lot of power. Maybe I could have used that."

"Maybe you could have, it's true." Ma nodded. "But used it to do what? You know what the Nanites want."

"They want me to be Empress."

"You spoke with the current Empress, what did you think of her?"

Fen turned and looked Ma in the eyes. "She seemed... broken? She was trying so hard to look normal, collected. But you get more than surface deep with her and there was this howling, screaming loneliness, this sadness that permeated her."

Ma leaned back onto Fen's collarbone. Fen put her arms around her wife and hugged her tightly. "Sounds like Gord did you a favor then."

"Maybe, but now what?"

"Now what indeed."

****

Fen awoke, still strapped in her chair, to Stormy's voice. "Oh, she's one of those."

"Be nice Stormy, you've had captains that have trouble with wormhole links before." Northern chided. "Fen comes back faster than most."

"My wife's there." Fen's voice sounds fuzzy, distant.

"Your what?"

"Ma-ren. She was - is - my wife." Fen's eyes glisten. "She died back home when we were trying to escape with Gord on Spyglass. Shot in the back by one of Tam'tarr's goons as we were running." She sniffs. "I see her, every time I link. We talk. It-" Fen sobs loudly "-it feels like we're still together."

Fen breaks down, hands covering her face. Zhe undoes her buckles and gets up and hugs Fen. She just stands there over her, hugging for a few minutes.

Fen catches her breath and looks up. "What are we going to do?"

"What do you mean?" Northern asks quietly.

"I mean, what are we going to do? Gord and Chloe and the Empress are off on some kind of mission to destroy the Nanites, and I didn't want any part of that and so we ran away. Gord let us go. Said he wasn't going to make us come with him. We leave Picaresque only to get caught up in a battle with the Empire while they're looking for Meredith. They have no idea who we are or how close we were to her. If they did we'd be captured... or worse. Now, we're in the same system as the Heap, and... now what?"

Northern undid her belts and stood. She came over to Fen and Zhe and hugged them both. She was a little awkward at first, but after a moment squeezed them tightly. "We'll do what we always do. We'll figure something out. If it doesn't work, we'll figure something else out. As long as we're still alive, that's what we do." Northern straightened, the front of her shirt damp. "For now, let's go see Zhe's dad again. Maybe we'll get some work."

The siren was startling. The three of them must have jumped a meter. "Stormy! What's wrong?"

"Sorry to interrupt things, but someone just linked in. It's a Super Dreadnought."

Northern looked down at the ship displayed on Fen's pad. "Fuck me."

[thoughtlessarse]

ICE wants to hire contractors to monitor social media for threats. Those who criticize the agency could be pulled into the dragnet. Amid anger and protest over the Trump administration’s plan to deport millions of immigrants, U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement plans to monitor and locate “negative” social media discussion about the agency and its top officials, according to contract documents reviewed by The Intercept. Citing an increase in threats to ICE agents and leadership, the agency is soliciting pitches from private companies to monitor threats across the internet — with a special focus on social media. People who simply criticize ICE online could be pulled into the dragnet. “In order to prevent adversaries from successfully targeting ICE Senior leaders, personnel and facilities, ICE requires real-time threat mitigation and monitoring services, vulnerability assessments, and proactive threat monitoring services,” the procurement document reads. If this scanning uncovers anything the agency deems suspicious, ICE is asking its contractors to drill down into the background of social media users. That includes:

continue reading

[justsayyesmiss]

TRANS RIGHTS

PAGE ONE

Panel 1

A white woman with a white tank top and pink hair leans into frame, her elbow over the lower panel border, waving to the reader.

LUCY:

Hi. I’m Lucy. That’s not my real name, and this isn’t what I look like. But that’s fine, because while this is my story…

LUCY:

It’s one that thousands of other trans people have lived through, at least a little bit. It’s our story too.

Panel 2

A map of the United States. States colored in red are those with anti-trans laws on the books. Those states are: New Hampshire, North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, Florida, Alabama, Mississippi, Tennessee, Kentucky, West Virginia, Ohio, Indiana, Louisiana, Arkansas, Missouri, Iowa, Texas, Oklahoma, Nebraska, South Dakota, North Dakota, Arizona, Utah, Wyoming, Idaho, and Montana.

LUCY:

I’m here to tell you how nightmarish Project 2025 will be for trans lives. Before we get to the main event, let me set the stage.

LUCY:

I’ve been out and medically transitioning as a trans woman for several years. It costs me thousands of dollars in medical expenses each year.

LUCY:

Also had to flee my home state due to bigoted laws, and faced discrimination everywhere from my own family to my job.

Panel 3

Lucy holds up up a giant textbook-sized printed copy of Project 2025. Her expression is one of outrage.

LUCY:

It’s pretty bad. And if Trump gets reelected and Project 2025 is brought into action, it’s only going to get much worse.

LUCY:

“Transgender,” “Gender Identity” and “Biological Sex” are used over thirty times in this Phone Book of Hate, so I’m going to keep it simple.

LUCY:

Three policies. Just three. That’s all they need.

Panel 4

Lucy sits at a computer, typing away. She looks over her shoulder at the reader.

LUCY:

Let’s start at the top. Page five. “Pornography, manifested today in the omnipresent propagation of transgender ideology.”

LUCY:

Any trans person’s story would be labeled as pornography. Our lives. Our experiences. Every part of us.

LUCY:

Immediately followed by, “Pornography should be outlawed. The people who produce and distribute it should be imprisoned.”

LUCY:

I think you can see where this is going…

PAGE TWO

Panel 1

Lucy sits on a cot in a prison, hugging herself in despair.

LUCY:

That means that any trans person talking about their transition could be imprisoned. Every statement about our lives, a potential offense.

LUCY:

Hell, the story you’re reading right now would qualify.

Panel 2

Lucy stands behind a counter with a cash register in front of her, ready to scan a bag of chips on the conveyer belt. She looks annoyed and exhausted.

LUCY:

Next. “Rescind regulations prohibiting discrimination on the basis of […] gender identity, transgender status, and sex characteristics.” Page 584.

LUCY:

Paired with page 495, “a general statement of policy specifying that it will not enforce any prohibition on […] gender identity discrimination” it paints a picture.

LUCY:

Discrimination towards trans people at places like their jobs will be fully legal, leaving us open to unmitigated harassment and hate.

Panel 3

Lucy is curled up in a ball, looking small, looking like she’s just finished crying her eyes out and is just empty.

LUCY:

Page 485. “Withdraw all guidance encouraging Ryan White HIV/AIDS Program service providers to provide controversial “gender transition” procedures or “gender-affirming care”.

LUCY:

Page 462. “Fund studies into the short-term and long-term negative effects of crosssex interventions, including “affirmation,” puberty blockers, cross-sex hormones and surgeries.”

LUCY:

Page…take your pick. There’s a dozen more.

Panel 4

Lucy, still running on empty, holds a vial of Estradiol in her fingers and stares at it. It’s nearly empty.

LUCY:

By cutting federal funding from any medical facility that offers trans healthcare, and standing against it as official policy…

LUCY:

Hormones and gender care will become almost impossible to find. For those of us who are already on them, it’ll wreak havoc.

LUCY:

Our mental health. Our bodies. Damage that will ruin lives. And for trans folks who can no longer produce a safe level of hormones…

Panel 5

Lucy looks right at the reader, her expression serious and angry.

LUCY:

It could kill them.

Panel 6

Lucy sits cross-legged on the floor, pointing directly at the reader.

LUCY:

I know there’s a lot to keep track of. I haven’t even covered all the anti-trans proposals in Project 2025. If you take nothing else from here , take this:

LUCY:

For transgender people across America, defeating Trump and Project 2025 isn’t just a political race.

LUCY:

It’s a fight for survival. And we need all of you fighting with us.

https://stopproject2025comic.org/comic/anti-trans_discrimination/

[pix4japan]

Vending Machines: From Pokémon Collaborations to Disaster Preparedness

Location: Gumyoji, Minami Ward, Yokohama, Japan Timestamp: 17:45・2024/04/09

Fujifilm X100V with 5% diffusion filter ISO 400 for 1/250 sec. at ƒ/2 Classic Negative film simulation

Japan boasts an impressive array of vending machines, numbering around 2.6 million as of December 2023. In the span of the last four decades, I've witnessed significant shifts in this vending landscape. Notably, there has been a decline in machines vending alcohol and cigarettes, paralleled by a rise in machines offering both hot and cold beverages from a single unit. Among these innovations, my personal favorite is the advent of machines equipped with QR code scanning capabilities, allowing seamless payment through an app on my smartphone.

In my photo, two distinct elements immediately captured my eye: the presence of a Pokémon character adorning the vending machine, and upon closer inspection, the machine's disaster response capabilities.

The Ito En beverage company has partnered with the popular Pokémon Go game for a joint promotion of the game and Ito En drinks. Beyond its promotional features, this vending machine also serves a crucial role in the local community as a disaster response vending machine. In the event of a severe earthquake and subsequent power outage, it can dispense drinks at no cost, providing essential relief to those affected by the crisis.

While I sincerely hope to never have to utilize the services of a disaster response vending machine, it's reassuring to know that some large corporations are stepping up to make their services and products accessible to society during times of crisis.

Check out my full write-up (a concise 2-minute read), which includes a glossary and references for further reading (https://www.pix4japan.com/blog/20240409-vending).