#most likely related to getting on or getting off the path of darkness too

[raayllum]

me remembering that as @imminent-danger-came and a few others have pointed out that 4x07 makes a point of showing that callum won't (or couldn't) give up the cube at that time (much the same way he told finnegrin he'd never help him in 5x08) thereby setting up a time where he does give up the cube

[ecrivainsolitaire]

Humans have the capability of perceiving when they're being stared at, even if they can't see it.

Dr. T'Chem was staring at Lieutenant /θkɡɾɑːˈŋæ/ (or as his current fling affectionately nicknamed her, "Tucker-Annie"), whose dorsal spikes were still rattling after the incident at the holodeck. It was his first time at the witness stand, and he didn't want to ruin a young star sailor's life.

Lieutenant Tucker-Annie was the combat specialist in charge of the training dojo of Federation Vessel TSN457, named after the Terra-Saturn-Ceres coalition where Dr. T'Chem currently served as the xenoanthropologist charged with facilitating human integration to the local Federation of Fraternal Planets and Satellites. The FFPS had the goal of finding planets with intelligent life to trade resources and technology, and due to their recent incorporation, local research vessels were fitted with diverse crews to acclimate everyone to each other's cultures and biological needs. Dr. T'Chem was the human expert in the ship, and was tasked with helping smooth over interpersonal relations among the crew.

The relations were, at that moment, as bumpy as Lt. Tucker-Annie's dorsal spike line.

An incident had occurred during a training exercise. The squad consisted of a Venusian, two Saturnians, three Ceresians, two monks from the Transcorporeal Temple of Robotic Ascension, and five Terrans (two humans, two dogs and a cybernetically enhanced cat). The exercise consisted of getting through a generic jungle scenario and, unbeknownst to the squad, avoiding a team of ninjas lead by Lt. Tucker-Annie trying to take them out one by one. It was supposed to test the way they would react to a surprise attack.

It was not supposed to reveal that humans could sense when they were being stalked.

Of course, any trained sailor would have an ingrained knowledge of potential threats and how to spot them. Look for the shadows that are too dark, listen for the spot air isn't blowing from, things like that. Basic things most people don't think about but that can be identified if you think about them.

This was not that.

"Something's watching us," said Crew Johnson, in that sloppy way only creatures with lips spoke.

"What do you mean? There's cameras everywhere, of course they're watching us," responded Crew Hessikh, slithering over the vines on a tree branch to cross a river. She grabbed the axe in Crew Johnson's belt with her telekinesis and took down a small tree to serve as a bridge.

"Crew Flufflepaws, could you please take a look?" Asked Crew Johnson, nervously looking around. Crew Flufflepaws got on the tree as well and scanned the terrain from above.

"I can't see anything, or smell anything. And my hearing isn't what it used to be. I'll stay on the lookout for—" a horrendous hiss interrupted the automatic translator's feed. Crew Flufflepaws' comm line cut off.

Hessikh and Johnson looked at each other. That was the strongest fighter of their team, gone. They knew it was a simulation, but it still gave them chills.

The rest of their crew mates were split into two different teams further along the path. Crew Fanning's voice came from the comm line.

"Johnson, Hessikh, are you okay? What happened to Flufflepaws?"

"We don't know, Johnson said something was watching us and it went to check, then we lost comms."

"I felt it too. I know this isn't that kind of exercise but I think— AAAHHH!"

Two blaster shots were heard, then a thud.

Lieutenant Tucker-Annie, who was watching Hessikh and Johnson from the mud pit behind the latter, had her tranquilizer dart ready. She got ready to shoot down Hessikh, but then heard a voice over the comm line.

"Code Lithium, we have a Code Lithium, we have to end the simulation, I just took down- I can't-" the breathing was sounding heavier and faster, too fast for a human.

"Fanning, calm down, remember your sutras. We need you focused, what happened?"

"I felt like I was being watched, so I turned around and saw this thing and it scared me and I jumped and I thought it was on stun mode and-"

"It's alright, we're calling it off. Captain, we have a Code Lithium! End the simulation now or- fuck, there it is again. Hessikh, do you see any heat sources?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary- why haven't they shot it down alre-"

The next thing Lieutenant Tucker-Annie remembered was the sound of a heel turn over the mud, followed by darkness.

Lt. Tucker-Annie woke up in the hospital bay, getting her tail regenerated by a robot nurse. She looked over and found her underling on the next bed, with a huge bandage on the side of his neck and a wing in a cast. Thankfully, he would be alright as soon as the stem cell bank was reprogrammed after her treatment.

The disciplinary board was called, an investigation was open, and both Crew Fanning and their captain were put on paid leave while the investigation was ongoing. Dr. T'Chem was called in as an expert after a review of the holodeck footage revealed there was no way Crew Fanning could have heard, seen or smelled the hidden sailor.

It was the first time in a while he hadn't helped himself to a glass of Venusian whiskey for breakfast. He really didn't want to mess this up.

"And would you care to explain how this is possible, Doctor?" Asked the prosecution, staring him down with an unnerving amount of eyes.

"I am as astounded as this court; our firm has been looking into Terran medical literature and we're still trying to figure out how it works; they don't even know, but they know it does happen, it's been documented for thousands of years. I have a hypothesis, but I don't know if it's even testable."

There was a murmur in the court. The judge asked him to elaborate.

"The way eyesight works is the light bounces off of opaque bodies and in its way it collides with the lenses in our corneas, which send it to the brain as electrical signals to be interpreted. The light that doesn't go into our eyes just bounces off our bodies and other opaque objects as well, the photons go everywhere and anywhere. This is the same for most species in this constellation, including humans. But even other Terran species don't have these abilities, as Crew Flufflepaws has testified."

A begrudging meow was heard from the audience.

"Order in the court, please. Dr. T'Chem, what do you suggest is the origin of this mysterious sense?"

The camera drones all hoovered around him. Dr. T'Chem straightened his fins and got close to the microphone.

"I believe it's possible that humans have a sense of touch so sensitive that they can feel the photons that don't bounce back. The ones that go into an eye instead of an opaque body. I think humans can actually feel in their skin when they are being watched."

There was an uproar in the crowd. His paramour, a dark skinned young human from the human settlement known as "Colombia", grabbed the religious symbol on her necklace and made a gesture with it he hadn't quite figured out yet.

The trial had to go on recess.

The implications were incalculable. Three dozen biologists from six different planets, including Terra, had emailed him before the end of the day to ask him to justify himself. Multiple human religious leaders took the chance to link it to demonic possession or moral evils. By the end of the week, four different labs were trying to figure out a way to double blind test shooting a photon cannon on a human's back and trying to get them to sense it.

But most importantly, the news made it outside of the Federation. The rumours about this new species that couldn't be stalked got so far, it ended up affecting the outcome of a border conflict with the Betelgeuse Libertarian Army on the Federation's favour.

Humans were terrifying.

If this is what they evolved to be, what was their planet like?

[hiramaris]

Kiss it Off Me

CHAPTER 6

Chapter Summary:

"You were avoiding me." Haley finally said, and she commended her voice from not shaking. "You don't want to dance with me." "I..." You seemed taken aback by Haley's observation. "I wasn't..."

Pairings: Haley x Fem!farmer

Disclaimer:  I do not own Stardew Valley or any of the related characters. Stardew Valley is created by and owned by ConcernedApe. This fanfiction is intended for entertainment only. I am not making any profit from this story. All rights of the original Stardew Valley story belong to ConcernedApe.

Warning: none i think?

Notes:

The most awaited Flower Festival. Buckle up, simps.

Spring 24

Four days.

Four freaking days since you had abruptly decided to avoid her.

And yes, she's definitely counting it. 

What she didn't get is why? Why the sudden aversion?

Haley had tried to rack her brain for any reason, just anything but she couldn't find any. She tried to recall the events that night.

Haley took you home from the saloon because your ass was so drunk you couldn't even stand on your own feet without tripping.

And then there's... that.

With a heavy sigh, Haley placed her white dress for the flower dance on her bed.

She should have been excitedly preparing for the upcoming dance, but the stupid farmer had been occupying her mind today.

Even yesterday.

And even the day before that, and the day after that. 

After your sudden declaration of 'feelings?' (yes, she's questioning because what the hell does that mean?), Haley had found herself speechless for the umpteenth time that night.

She couldn't find her voice, or rather, she didn't know how to respond to that. Fortunately, before she could, you shook your head as if you had said something silly.

Your moment of soberness dissipated completely as you slumped back to Haley. You had been a bit cooperative after that as both of you were able to go to your farm without any further hitch.

Haley was all but familiar with your farm. She had occasionally taken her pictures here when Old Railey was alive. She was fond of him.

He was kind and he kind of reminded her of her grandma. When he died, there was a large part of Haley that still grieves for him until now. Which is maybe why she was a bit apprehensive at you when she first came. At Haley's little time at Pelican town, she knew how much Old Railey sacrificed for the farm, to see it run down like that and be given to a complete stranger— a city girl no less, never mind you're his granddaughter.

But as she stood at the entrance of the farm, with the same farmer she loathed beside her, she couldn't help but feel a sense of pride as she saw the state of the farm for the first time since you moved here. 

The once-overgrown grass and unruly weeds that had taken over the farm were now perfectly tamed. A neatly constructed wooden path led towards what Haley assumed was your cabin.

Despite the darkness surrounding her, she could spot a variety of spring crops flourishing in the distance. Blue jazz, cauliflower, green beans, parsnips, and many others were thriving under your care. While there were still renovations to be done, Haley couldn't help but be impressed by how well you were doing. As if you're really meant for farming.  

The cabin looks freshly renovated, too. Last time she heard it was a bit crusty and on the verge of collapsing.

As Haley stepped into your home, she was greeted by a small ginger cat. The feline locked eyes with her for a moment, assessing her presence before realizing she meant no harm and had come with her owner.

Sensing Haley's intention, the cat let out a loud meow, leading her towards a closed door on the right, which she assumed to be your room.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly. Haley had managed to settle you on the bed and was ready to head home herself. However, it appeared that you had other plans.

You suddenly sat up straight and grabbed her hand as if sensing Haley was about to leave.

Haley looked at you, waiting expectantly.

And then it happened.

There's vomit.

It was everywhere—on Haley's pajamas, the blankets, and even your own shirt.

Haley wanted to scream in frustration, but worry had won over her disgust as she heard you have a coughing fit. She gently shook your shoulders, trying to get your attention.

"Are you okay?" she asked, concern lacing her words.

"I'm..." you coughed, voice strained, "my head hurts..."

And that's the sole reason Haley has to borrow some set of clothes from the farmer's wardrobe, change the bed sheets and blankets—

And...

Change your clothes.

The memory made Haley's cheeks burn with embarrassment, but she had no other choice. There was no way she could sleep beside you with vomit-stained sheets, and you smelling like that.

Haley's face flushed with embarrassment as a sudden realization hit her like a ton of Emily's hippie rocks.

Oh...

There's also one bed. You and her slept on the same bed.

So, it kinda makes sense now.

Why in Yoba's name has she just realized this now?

No wonder Emily had given her a funny look earlier when she had returned that morning wearing obviously your varsity shirt.

Haley had also completely missed the bright, bold letters spelling out "L/N" stitched on the back of the shirt, which is also why Penny couldn't look at her in the eyes when they crossed paths that morning when the redhead decided to visit you at the farm to check on you.

Yoba.

They must have thought that you and her had slept together.

And maybe you thought that, too as well.

The thought made Haley cringe and she facepalmed at the awkwardness of the situation.

It certainly didn't help that you couldn't remember anything from that night after your eighth bottle.

And to add to the mix-up, you had to wake up with a hangover and everything and seeing Haley casually cooking breakfast in your house while wearing your shirt.

It was practically a neon signboard pointing at her as if saying "hey, last night was an absolute blast, why don't I make you some breakfast while I'm here?" 

Just great.

This is an absolute disaster.

****

"Is she joining the dance?" Haley wondered aloud, her eyes fixed on you who was engaged in a conversation with Penny, Maru, and Harvey.

"Hmm?" Alex paused in his fidgeting, adjusting his suit that had somehow grown on him. He followed Haley's gaze and spotted you amidst the group. "Oh, you mean Old Mac? I don't think so."

Haley turned to him with furrowed eyebrows," Old Mac? What's with you and all these people calling her all sorts of names? Why can't you just call her Y/n and stick with it?"

"Whoa, slow down, cowgirl." Alex barked out a laugh at her sudden outburst. "What's got your panties in a twist?" 

"Nothing!" Haley replied, trying to brush off her frustration. Deep down, though, the different names people used for you bothered her more than she cared to admit.

And the worst of it all is she doesn't know why she's pissed.

She turned away as she began pacing back and forth in the middle of the performance area.

She needs to practice her moves. Despite being crowned the flower queen for five consecutive years and having the dance steps etched into her muscle memory, she didn't want to be so full of herself.

But in reality, she was just trying her absolute best to not let her eyes settle on someone who wasn't even looking her way. 

Which she have found to be a challenge.

You looked dashing, if Haley would dare admit that aloud.

Your hair is down too in its slick, natural wave, which you usually tied up in a messy ponytail.

You looked pretty similar to the way you looked when you first arrived in the town though you forgo the black slacks in exchange of a more brighter blue one, the same shade of the ridiculous suits the men wore for the dance which have made her assume you'll be dancing as well.

But with whom? 

Usually, there are already designated partners for the dance and it would be quite impossible for you to learn the steps in just a month. 

Maybe Penny? Leah? Or that weirdo that dyes her head blue all the time? She assumed you were close with her when you dominated all the eggs Abigail was after which earned the kids to win during the egg festival. 

Whatever.

Why would she care anyway? You weren't even looking in her direction. Not even noticing that Haley did her hair differently or that she had chosen to apply a more natural make-up because you told her she's pretty enough without them.

"Ah!" 

The sound of cry from Alex had made her dash towards his place in alarm.

Sam was immediate to his side, along with the other townspeople. "What happened?" she asked in urgent.

"Sorry, pal. I may have thrown it a bit too far." Sam scratched his neck in shame.

"Samson!" Jodi angrily admonished her son. "Look just what you did!"

"Ow..." Alex grunted as he tried to reach for his foot. "I think I broke my ankle." 

"Can you stand?" You questioned as you helped him up. "Why'd you even bring your grid ball here?"

"H-hah. I can but I don't think I can walk it off. Hey, gramps. Mind if I borrow your wheels?" He tried to joke it off.

"Alexander!" Evelyn wasn't pleased with ay all with his humor.

"Heh, I'll give you this if I could go back home and watch TV."

"George! Don't even encourage him."

"Ehem," Mayor Lewis cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the crowd. "The festival is about to begin in five minutes. Will you be able to dance, young man?"

"I don't think so." Alex immediately answered, causing Haley to snap her head towards him in disbelief.

"What do you mean you can't?" she exclaimed, her eyes widening. "How am I supposed to dance without a partner?"

She knew it was a selfish question but how can he be so stupid bringing his ball with him?!

A mischievous grin spread across Alex's lips as he pulled you closer, resting his hand on your shoulders. "Old Mac here can replace me. I already taught her the moves."

"What?" you choked, eyebrows raising so far it hid behind your bangs. "I don't..."

"You got this. There's no need to worry. In fact," he shrugged off his coat and handed it over to your shaking hands. "It doesn't fit me anymore. It'll probably suit you better."

"B-but..." 

"Wouldn't it be better if Sam takes your place since he's already familiar with the dance?" Penny tentatively suggested as she eyed Haley. "I know how much winning the crown means to you, Haley. It might be best for Sam to step in for Alex, considering it was his fault too." She glanced apologetically at Sam. "Sorry, Sam. I can dance with Y/n/n instead."

"Um, no," Alex dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. "Haley feels more comfortable dancing with Old Mac. That's more important." 

"W-wait a second," Haley finally found her voice, her gaze still avoiding the person standing beside her. She could feel your eyes on her, and Haley wasn't ready just yet to see the look of refusal from your eyes. "Can't we get a say in this?!" 

"Nope!" Alex chirped.

"Very well, then," Mayor Lewis interjected, clapping his hands together. "Let the festival begin!"

****

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to," Haley whispered, her hands trembling slightly as they held onto your neck. Her palms had grown clammy, and her racing heart seemed to drown out the lively rhythm of the music.

"Huh?"

Your voice held a hint of confusion, drawing Haley's gaze away from the ground to meet a pair of captivating gray eyes. The faintest tinge of pink colored your cheeks and your eyes struggled to hold steady.

You looked... bashful.

It also did not miss her how the hands securely wrapped around her waist were shaking as well.

"You were avoiding me." Haley finally said, and she commended her voice for not squeaking. "You don't want to dance with me."

"I..." You seemed taken aback by Haley's observation. "I wasn't..."

"Could've fooled me," Haley muttered under her breath as you gracefully twirled her around and pulled her back into your arms.

Despite the thick tension between you two, it looked like you really did actually perfected your moves and were able to dance in sync with Haley's.

"You wanted to dance with Penny, don't you?" She almost sounded accusatory.

"I don't." Your answer was swift. "I don't want to dance with anyone but you. And I wasn't avoiding you."

Haley avoided your gaze. "Where were you then? I haven't seen you in days. You haven't visited us for breakfast." Her grip on your coat tightened as she looked up from the taller woman. "If it was because of what happened that day, nothing happened, okay?"

As you twirled her once more, your bodies drew closer, so close that she could also see bits of hazel from your gray eyes.

Your cheeks burned once more as you muttered, "It's not that."

"Tell me," Haley demanded.

"I was out mining." You admitted sheepishly. "And maybe I was kind of avoiding you..." Your eyes started cringing at the glare Haley was giving you. "I was embarrassed that I puked on you. Alex told me it was your self-care day and... I know I ruined it for you. And now I ruined your dance."

Haley's gaze softened drastically. "Idiot," she mutters, her arms finally relaxing against your shoulder. "You haven't ruined anything." She told you simply.

"Yet," you added, chuckling.

As the tension dissipates, you grow a little bolder as your hands relaxed around her waist, pulling Haley a little tighter against you. The warmth radiating from your palms gave Haley a profound sense of security, one she haven't felt for a long, long time.

"You know," Haley whispered against your neck, relaxing against your embrace. She didn't care if this wasn't part of the choreography. "You smell good today."

She felt you smiled against her hair, "Had to smell my best for my queen, right?"

****

Previous

Next

Notes:

Spring's finally over! Summer here we come! Question though. Is my pacing fast or slow?

[newobsessionweekly]

Lost and found

Main masterlist | The Rookie masterlist

Tim Bradford x undercover!cop!reader Fandom: The Rookie

Summary: You and Tim have a history together, but it took a nearly death experience for Tim to confess.

A/N: Oh, how I love writing for Tim. I don't really have anything to say but I really do love your requests and I will post all of them soon. I have a lot of ideas and I get lost on them, honestly. I absolutely love your support and I'm so grateful for all of you. I'm watching The Rookie for the first time and I'm only halfway the 3rd season so if you have requests related to the following seasons, I will write them when I get there! Feedback is welcome and screw my studying, I'll be taking requests! Be safe and lots of love, bubs! Hope you enjoy this!

Angst | Action | Fluff

Warnings: Mentions of beating, Hurt, Tim having a panic attack, not proofread yet

Requested: No Words: 6.7k GIF not mine, credits to the owner.

Tim's marriage to Isabel was like a storm that swept through his life, leaving destruction in its wake. The scars it left ran deep, etched into his soul and shaping the man he had become. He carried the weight of his failed marriage like a burden, the pain of betrayal and loss weighing heavily on his shoulders.

When you crossed paths with Tim, it was during one of the darkest moments of his life. He was grappling with the aftermath of his divorce, struggling to make sense of the shattered pieces of his heart. But in you, he found a beacon of light amidst the darkness, a steady presence that offered solace and support when he needed it most.

There was an unspoken connection that defied explanation, drawing you closer with each passing day. Despite his efforts to keep you at a distance, you found yourself irresistibly drawn to him, like a compass pointing north, guiding you towards him despite the obstacles in your path.

As your friendship blossomed, so did the feelings that simmered beneath the surface. Tim's past, fraught with pain and heartache, cast a shadow over your burgeoning relationship, leaving you both hovering on the edge of something more yet unable to take the leap.

You became Tim's confidante, his rock in turbulent seas, lending him a shoulder to lean on and an ear to listen as he poured out his pain and anguish. In your unwavering presence, he found a sense of peace he hadn't known in years, a glimmer of hope that perhaps, despite the scars of his past, he could find happiness again.

In the beginning, your relationship was like dancing on the edge of a knife, a delicate balance between friendship and something more. You indulged in the intoxicating allure of each other's company, letting the flames of your past ignite between you and consume you in their fiery embrace.

It was a whirlwind of passion and desire, a fleeting moment of ecstasy that held the promise of something deeper. You reveled in the connection you shared, basking in the warmth of each other's presence and losing yourselves in the depths of our desire.

But as quickly as your fairytale began, it came crashing down around you, shattering the illusion of bliss and leaving you both reeling in its aftermath. Tim's feelings for you burned brighter with each passing moment, threatening to consume him entirely in their fiery intensity.

In a moment of clarity, Tim made the painful decision to cut it off, fearing that he was not good enough for you, that he would only bring you pain and disappointment. He believed he could not protect you from the darkness that lurked in his past, and so he pushed you away, extinguishing the flames of your passion before they could consume you both.

As an undercover cop, your mission was to infiltrate a notorious human trafficking ring that had been plaguing LA for far too long. Posing as a vulnerable young woman seeking refuge from a troubled past, you wormed your way into the inner circle of the criminal organization.

Under the guise of vulnerability and months of play pretend, you gained the trust of your targets, earning a place of significance within their twisted world. But with every step deeper into the belly of the beast, you knew the risks grew greater, the danger more palpable.

Months of gaining the trust of the ring's leader had led to this crucial meeting, where you hoped to finally make a breakthrough. You are supposed to meet one of the important members, to discuss your part. They need you to find vulnerable women, in order to keep their protection. It was a role you had to play convincingly, despite the knot of unease twisting in your stomach.

Amidst the hustle and bustle of the parking lot, his voice shattered the air like a thunderclap. "Y/N!"

Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of Tim's voice, a flood of memories threatening to overwhelm you. But you couldn't afford to let emotions cloud your judgment now, not when the mission hung in the balance.

"Y/N!" His voice grew closer, each step echoing with the weight of shared history and unspoken emotions. Tim Bradford, the man who had once held your heart in his hands, stood mere feet away, his presence a reminder of a past you had tried so desperately to forget.

You tightened your grip on your resolve, pushing aside the rush of feelings threatening to engulf you. This wasn't the time for sentimentality, not when lives hung in the balance. Ignoring him once more, you pressed on, your determination unyielding.

But then, he called out again, using the undercover name you had adopted for this dangerous game. "Sunny!"

As Tim's footsteps drew nearer, you turned to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. The shock of seeing him here, in the midst of your dangerous undercover operation, sent a jolt of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

"Tim," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper as you struggled to process the surrealness of the moment.

His eyes widened in disbelief as he took in your appearance, his expression mirroring the mix of emotions swirling inside you. "Y/N," he said, his voice hoarse with surprise and concern. "I... I didn't expect to see you here."

Neither did you. The last person you expected to encounter in the midst of this high-stakes operation was Tim Bradford, the man whose memory had haunted you for so long.

"I can't explain now," you managed to say, your words coming out in a rush as you fought to maintain your composure. "But you need to trust me. It's dangerous, and I can't get you involved."

Tim's brow furrowed in concern, his gaze searching yours for answers. "I trust you," he said quietly, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "But Boot and I are here to help."

His words washed over you like a wave of relief, the weight of the situation lifting slightly as you realized you weren't facing this alone. "You're backup?" you asked, your voice tinged with disbelief.

Tim nodded, his expression unwavering. "Alongside the cops patrolling the streets around this place," he confirmed. "We've got your back."

As you exchanged glances with Tim silently thanking him for being there, Lucy emerged from the shadows, her appearance a stark contrast to the glamour of the restaurant's surroundings. Dressed convincingly as an abused woman, Lucy embodied the role of the vulnerable victim you had concocted for the gang's twisted game.

Her hair, usually sleek and polished, now hung in disarray around her face, strands tangled and unkempt. Makeup expertly applied to mimic bruises and scars adorned her skin, a haunting reminder of the violence she was portraying.

Despite the facade of vulnerability, there was a fire in Lucy's eyes, a fierce determination that belied the submissive persona she portrayed. It was a testament to her strength and resilience, a silent declaration that she would not be easily broken.

As you approached the entrance of the restaurant, you cast a quick glance at Lucy, silently conveying the gravity of the situation. This was your moment, and you had to execute flawlessly.

"Okay, Lucy," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Listen carefully. I'll do the talking. You stay silent unless directly addressed by the right-hand. No showing of doubt, no hesitation. We need this operation to go smoothly."

Lucy nodded, her jaw set with determination as she absorbed your instructions. Despite the nerves flickering in her eyes, she straightened her posture, steeling herself for the task ahead.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Remember," you continued, your tone firm. "We're in control here. Stay focused, and we'll get through this."

Lucy nodded again, a silent promise of her commitment to the plan. "Roger that." she replied, her voice steady despite the turmoil roiling inside her.

With the stakes higher than ever, you knew that this undercover operation had to be executed with precision and finesse. As you and Lucy took your seats at the table next to the most important man you can lay hands on, you couldn't shake the feeling that every move had to be calculated, every word chosen carefully.

From your vantage point, you observed the man closely, your senses on high alert as you awaited the perfect opportunity to strike. Across the room, you knew Tim was watching from the shadows, his eyes scanning the scene for any signs of trouble.

The man's scrutinizing gaze fell upon Lucy, his eyes assessing her with a predatory gleam. "And who might this be?" he inquired, his tone slick with suspicion.

Taking a deep breath, you tell the man everything as practiced. "This is Lucy," you began, your voice steady despite the turmoil raging within you. "She's... she's been trapped in a nightmare with an abusive husband."

Lucy nodded, her eyes casting down as if reliving the horrors of her past. The man leaned back in his chair, a calculating glint in his eyes. "And you think we can help you with that?" he asked, amusement dancing in his voice.

You nodded eagerly, seizing the opportunity to steer the conversation in your favor. "You have resources, connections... You could help Lucy start over, away from her husband."

As Tim listened intently to the conversation unfolding before him, a knot of unease tightened in his stomach. He couldn't shake the feeling of helplessness that washed over him, knowing that he was unable to intervene directly without blowing your cover. All he could do was watch and wait, his heart pounding with a mixture of fear and frustration.

The man's lips curled into a smirk, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Of course," he said smoothly. "We can take care of her. Provide her with a safe place to stay. We have a room prepared at Bates."

Bates motel was an important piece of the puzzle, where they would take the girls and force them to practice commercial sex in exchange for the protection they provide. The girls usually don't stay there longer than a couple of days before they fly to different countries outside US. Rich countries filled with desperate men that would pay fortunes for the girls.

As the name of the motel fell from the man's lips, Lucy's breath caught in her throat, fear flashing across her features. The plan was that both of you to be taken to the motel and gather some information for the FBI so that they'll be able to arrest them. But someone failed to explain Lucy all the details.

The man's gaze narrowed, suspicion flickering in his eyes as he noticed her reaction. "What's wrong with her?" he demanded, his tone sharp.

Feeling the weight of Lucy's panic, you subtly reached out and gently squeezed her hand under the table, offering her reassurance. With a quick glance in her direction, you flashed her a smile, hoping to convey a sense of calm amidst the storm.

Tim feared for your safety, knowing all too well the dangers you faced in the heart of the gang's operations. Lucy's anxiety only heightened his own, sending a surge of tension coursing through his veins.

You fought to mask your own rising panic, your mind racing for an explanation that would satisfy his curiosity. "She's just... scared," you said quickly, your voice tinged with urgency. "She thought she'd left the state tonight, but... but she's worried her husband might find her."

As the conversation with the man continued, you maintained a careful facade of composure, all the while silently reassuring Lucy that you were in this together.

The man's gaze softened slightly, a hint of understanding in his eyes. "I see," he said, his tone gentler now. "Well, there's no need to worry. She'll be safe here with the other girls until the plane is ready to take off for Italy."

As several armed men approached the table, their presence casting a menacing shadow over the already tense atmosphere, the right hand of the leader spoke with authority. "It's time to move her to the motel," he declared, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Panic surged within you as you exchanged a worried glance with Lucy, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on both of you. You couldn't bear the thought of letting Lucy face this alone, knowing the danger that awaited her at the hands of the gang.

Desperation fueled your next words as you pleaded with the man to let you accompany Lucy. "Please," you begged, your voice trembling with fear. "Let me go with her. I can't... I can't let her alone, I promise I wouldn't leave her alone."

But the man's expression remained cold and impassive, unmoved by your plea. "I don't give a fuck about your promises. Only one of you," he insisted firmly, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. "It'll look suspicious if both of you go missing. The police might decide to crash our little party."

As the tension in the room reached its peak, Tim could no longer stand idly by. With a sense of urgency coursing through him, he rose from his seat and approached the table, his expression a mask of desperation.

"Lucy, there you are!" Tim's voice rang out, thick with emotion as he stepped into the role of her abusive husband. "I have looked for you everywhere. I can't lose you. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."

His words echoed off the walls of the restaurant, each syllable laced with genuine anguish as he pleaded with Lucy to come back to him. It was a performance born out of necessity, a last-ditch effort to salvage their plan and get Lucy safely out of the operation.

With practiced precision, Tim threw himself into the role, his voice cracking with emotion as he pleaded with Lucy to come back to him.

"Please, Lucy," he begged, his eyes brimming with tears. "I love you. I'll do anything to make it right. Just... come home."

As Tim's performance unfolded, Lucy's eyes widened in surprise, her initial panic giving way to understanding as she realized the ruse they were playing. With a silent nod of agreement, you played along.

With a heavy sigh, you made a split-second decision. "I'll go," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don't have family or anyone who would ask questions."

For a moment, silence falling upon you, the weight of your and Tim's words hanging heavy in the air. Then, slowly, tentatively, Lucy nodded, her resolve crumbling in the face of Tim's impassioned plea.

With a sense of relief washing over him, Tim gathered Lucy in his arms, holding her tightly as if afraid she might slip away. Together, they made their way out of the restaurant, leaving behind the facade they had constructed and the danger that had threatened to engulf them.

As the gravity of your decision settled over you, a sense of resignation washed over you. You knew that by sacrificing yourself, you were placing yourself directly in harm's way.

As the right-hand man of the leader was convinced by your offer to accompany him, he swiftly led you out of the restaurant, ignoring the chaos unfolding. With each step towards his car, a sense of urgency gnawed at your insides.

As Tim and Lucy hurried to Tim's car, Lucy's concern for your safety was palpable. "We have to go after them," she urged. "She could be in danger."

But Tim remained resolute, his jaw clenched with determination. "She knows what she's doing," he insisted, though the worry in his eyes betrayed his facade of confidence. "She's been trained for this and been in these situations before. We can't risk blowing her cover, especially when the motel is our only lead."

Lucy's brow furrowed in frustration. "But Tim, the motel is a front for prostitution," she argued, her voice tinged with desperation. "What if they force her into something she can't handle?"

Tim's resolve wavered at her words, a pang of guilt gnawing at his conscience. He knew she was right—no lead was worth the risk of putting you in danger. With a heavy sigh, he relented. "Okay," he said reluctantly. "We'll go after her. But we'll keep our distance until the FBI does their job and have the suspects in custody."

As the car sped down the darkened streets, fear coiled like a serpent in your chest, tightening its grip with every passing moment. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily upon you, the reality of going alone with the dangerous man sinking in with a bone-chilling certainty.

You knew the stakes were high, the danger palpable as you faced the unknown. The plan crafted by the FBI had hinged on both you and Lucy going to the motel together, creating a scenario that would make it nearly impossible for the gang and their leader to mask your disappearances. But now, with you isolated and vulnerable, the gang could easily fabricate a motive for your sudden absence, erasing all traces of your existence without a second thought.

As Tim's car raced through the streets of Los Angeles in pursuit of the vehicle carrying you and one of the most wanted men, a whirlwind of emotions churned within him. Fear gnawed at his gut, a relentless reminder of the danger that lurked just beyond the horizon.

But amidst the chaos and uncertainty, something else stirred within Tim—a spark of recognition, a flicker of something long buried beneath the surface. Seeing you again after all these years reignited a fire within him, flooding his mind with memories of your shared past.

In that moment, Tim realized with a jolt that the feelings he had buried deep down inside him were still very much alive. Despite the passage of time, despite the distance that had grown between you, his heart still beat for you, aching with a longing he had long tried to suppress.

As the realization settled in, Tim knew with a fierce certainty that he had to protect you, no matter the cost. Desperation gripped him, driving him forward with a single-minded determination to ensure your safety.

Tim and Lucy sat in the car, and Lucy couldn't help but notice the distant look in Tim's eyes. "So, how do you know Y/N?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

Tim's gaze flickered to Lucy, a hint of sadness shadowing his features. "We go way back," he replied, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "She's been there for me through some tough times."

Lucy nodded, sensing there was more to the story. "Tough times?" she pressed, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Tim sighed, his gaze drifting to the darkened windows of the car. "When Isabel left," he began, his voice trailing off. "Y/N was there for me. She helped me through."

A pang of sympathy tugged at Lucy's heart as she listened to Tim's confession. "You said 'was'. What happened?" she asked gently, her voice filled with empathy.

Tim's expression grew somber, a weight settling upon his shoulders. "I... I pushed her away," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I was in a dark place, and I was afraid I couldn't protect her, couldn't love her properly."

A heavy silence hung between them as Lucy absorbed Tim's words, a sense of sadness washing over her. "Do you regret it?" she asked softly, her gaze searching his face for answers.

"It's not something I want to discuss." he snapped, his tone laced with frustration.

Lucy persisted, her voice gentle yet insistent. "Tim, I just want to understand."

"Yes I regret it because I loved her and I still do. And tonight I left my feelings get the best of me, being here is not right. Now take this as a lesson and don't be me."

Lucy hesitated, sensing Tim's walls closing in around him. "I'm sorry," she murmured, her voice laced with sympathy. "I didn't mean to pry."

As the FBI descended upon the motel, Tim's heart pounded with a mixture of hope and dread. He watched anxiously from his car as the agents swarmed the building, their movements swift and decisive.

But as the suspects were handcuffed and led away, there was no sign of you among them. Panic surged through Tim's veins as he realized you were nowhere to be found. With a sense of urgency, he flung open the car door and hurried towards the motel, his footsteps echoing in the deserted parking lot.

Each room he passed seemed to blur together, a maze of empty spaces and unanswered prayers. Desperation clawed at Tim's chest as he searched frantically for any sign of you, his heart hammering in his ears.

But as he reached the end of the corridor, a hand on his shoulder stopped him in his tracks. Tim turned to see one of the FBI officers standing behind him, his expression grim.

"We've searched every room," the officer said, his voice heavy with regret. "There's no sign of her."

Tim's breath caught in his throat, a cold wave of fear washing over him. "But she has to be here," he insisted, his voice hoarse with emotion."She was here."

The FBI officer shook his head, sympathy evident in his eyes."We tried to contact her," he explained. "But there was no response. We got worried ourselves, so we barged in. But she's not here."

As the FBI agents stormed the motel and chaos erupted around you, a surge of relief washed over you. But before you could fully grasp what was happening, one of the suspects grabbed you and dragged you away, their grip like iron around your arm.

Panic surged through you as you realized you were being taken against your will, your heart racing with fear and uncertainty. With each passing moment, the distance between you and safety seemed to grow, your hopes of escape dwindling with each step.

Soon, you found yourself standing before the waiting plane, its engines roaring to life in the darkness of the night. Desperation clawed at your chest, your hands steady as you carefully withdrew your gun from its holster. Each movement was deliberate, each breath measured, as you aimed the weapon at the men who held you captive.

With a steely resolve, you squared your shoulders and met their gaze head-on, your finger poised on the trigger. "LAPD, you are under arrest" you declared, your voice firm and commanding as you held up your badge for them to see.

The men's eyes widened in surprise at your sudden display of authority, but their expressions quickly hardened into sneers of defiance. "Funny" one of them scoffed, his voice dripping with contempt. "Cop or not, you're still a bitch and I have to honor a promise."

As the men closed in on you, their faces contorted with rage and desperation, you fought back with all the strength you could muster. But outnumbered, you were no match for their brute force. With a swift motion, one of them snatched the gun from your grasp, leaving you defenseless and vulnerable.

Panic surged through you as they dragged you towards the waiting plane, their grip like vice around your arms. Desperation clawed at your chest as you struggled against them, throwing punches and kicks in a desperate bid for freedom.

But it was no use. As the men wrestled you to the ground, their blows raining down upon you with merciless force, you felt the last vestiges of consciousness slipping away.

Through the haze of pain and confusion, you heard their voices, cold and indifferent.

"It's not worth the risk," one of them muttered, his tone resigned. "We need to leave her behind."

With a final, brutal blow, the man who had taken you from the motel left you lying on the ground, battered and broken. As he turned and headed towards the waiting plane, boarding without a second glance, you were left alone in the darkness, teetering on the brink of unconsciousness.

As the sound of the plane's engines faded into the distance, you closed your eyes, the world spinning around you.

As the moments stretched into eternity and the reality of your disappearance sank in, Tim's heart pounded with a mixture of fear and frustration. With trembling hands, he fumbled for his radio, his voice tight with urgency as he called for backup.

"Dispatch, this is Officer Bradford," he said, his voice taut with tension. "We have a missing officer. I repeat, we have a missing officer. Requesting immediate backup."

As he waited for a response, a whirlwind of emotions churned within him—fear, anger, desperation. The thought of you out there, alone and in danger, sent a chill down his spine. Every second that passed felt like an eternity, each moment stretching on endlessly as he prayed for some sign of hope.

As Lucy rushed to Tim's side, her eyes wide with concern, she could see the tension etched into every line of his face. "Tim, what's going on?" she asked, her voice trembling with worry.

Tim took a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly as he tried to compose himself. "It's Y/N," he said, his voice tight with emotion. "She's gone."

Lucy's eyes widened in shock. "Gone? What do you mean, gone?" she demanded, her voice rising with panic.

Tim's jaw clenched, he struggled to find the words to convey the gravity of the situation. "I searched every room in that motel," he began, his voice strained with emotion. "But she wasn't there. FBI told me they couldn't find her either."

As the police officers arrived one by one, their flashing lights cutting through the darkness of the night, Sergeant Grey emerged from the crowd, his face grave with concern. "What's the situation, Bradford?" he asked, his voice commanding as he approached Tim.

Tim opened his mouth to respond, but before he could utter a word, his phone his phone rang, the screen lighting up with your name.

All eyes turned to him as he answered the call, his heart pounding in his chest with a mixture of fear and relief. "Hey, are you okay? Where are you?" he asked, his voice laced with concern as he put the call on speaker.

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line before you spoke, your voice strained with pain. "I don't know where I am," you admitted, your words punctuated by a sharp intake of breath. "One of the suspects took me when the FBI barged in."

Tim's grip tightened on the phone as he listened, his heart sinking with each word. "Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice trembling with worry.

You hesitated, a soft hiss of pain escaping between your teeth. "Yeah," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I think so."

Sergeant Grey's voice cut through the tension, his tone firm and decisive. "Keep her on the line, Bradford," he instructed, his gaze focused and unwavering. "We need to track her location."

With a nod of determination, Tim focused all his attention on the call, his heart heavy with worry for you.

As Tim desperately sought answers, his voice quivered with worry. "Can you hear me?" he asked, his words tinged with desperation. "Are you still there?"

But there was no response, only the eerie silence of the line. Panic clawed at his chest as the silence stretched on, broken only by the faint sound of your labored breathing.

Tears pricked at Tim's eyes as he realized that you had lost consciousness. "Hang in there," he pleaded, his voice trembling with emotion. "We're coming for you."

With a heavy heart, Tim stayed on the line, his every breath a prayer for your safety.

But finally, after what felt like an eternity, Sergeant Grey's voice broke through the silence. "We've got her location," he said, his tone filled with relief. "Let's move."

The urgency of the situation weighed heavily on his mind. Every second felt like an perpetuity, each passing moment filled with the agonizing uncertainty of not knowing if you were safe.

Tim's knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel, his foot pressing down hard on the accelerator, propelling the car forward at breakneck speed. The world outside blurred into a whirlwind of colors and lights as they sped through the night, the roar of the engine drowning out all other sounds.

But amidst the chaos and urgency, Tim's thoughts were consumed by you. Memories of your time together flooded his mind, each one a painful reminder of what was at stake. His heart ached with the fear of losing you, his mind plagued by visions of what could happen if they didn't reach you in time.

As he stole a glance at Lucy in the passenger seat, he saw the same fear mirrored in her eyes. They shared a silent understanding, a mutual determination to do whatever it took to bring you home safely.

With each passing mile, Tim's emotions threatened to overwhelm him. Fear, anger, and desperation warred within him, his every nerve on edge as they hurtled towards your location.

But above all else, there was love. Love for you, burning bright and fierce in his heart, driving him forward with an unyielding determination to see you safe and sound once more.

As they reached the aerodrome, Tim's heart pounded in his chest with a mixture of fear and anticipation. With a single-minded focus, he bolted from the car, his senses heightened as he scanned the area for any sign of you.

But as he raced through the darkness, his heart froze in his chest at the sight before him. There, lying motionless on the ground, was a figure bathed in the dim light of the aerodrome. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as Tim's breath caught in his throat, his mind reeling with a thousand different fears.

As he drew closer, his worst fears were realized. It was you, lying there on the ground, your form still and silent. A wave of anguish washed over Tim as he fell to his knees beside you, his hands trembling as he reached out to searched for signs of life.

Gently, he pressed his fingers against your neck, praying for the faintest hint of a pulse. Relief flooded through him as he felt the faint throb beneath his touch, a small glimmer of hope in the darkness.

With trembling hands, Tim reached for the radio, his voice steady as he relayed the news. "This is Officer Bradford," he said, his voice ringing out through the static. "I've found Agent Y/L/N. Breathing, not conscious, in critical condition. Requesting an ambulance at my location."

As he waited for the ambulance to arrive, Tim cradled you in his arms, his heart aching at the sight of you lying so still and pale. "Hang in there," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "Help is on the way. You're going to be okay."

But as he spoke, he could see the flicker of consciousness in your eyes, the struggle to stay awake evident in the lines of your face. "Stay with me," he urged, his voice desperate. "I'm here, look at me."

As you drifted in and out of consciousness, Tim's voice washed over you like a soothing balm, his words a lifeline in the darkness. With each fleeting moment of clarity, you felt his presence beside you, his warmth a comforting anchor in the storm.

Desperate for any sign of response, he poured his heart out to you, his words a raw outpouring of emotion.

"I need you to fight, Y/N," he pleaded, his voice trembling with desperation. "I need you to come back to me. I can't do this without you. I know I'm not perfect and I know I was so stupid to push you away."

Tears welled in Tim's eyes as he confessed his deepest fears and insecurities, his voice cracking with emotion. "I love you," he whispered, his words hanging in the air like a fragile thread. "I've loved you for so long, and I can't bear the thought of losing you again. "

But as he spoke, there was no response, no flicker of recognition in your eyes. Panic clawed at Tim's chest as he watched you lie there, so still and silent, his heart breaking with each passing moment.

"Please, Y/N," he begged, his voice raw with anguish. "Don't leave me."

And as the ambulance arrived and the paramedics rushed to your side, Tim held onto you tightly, unwilling to let go. With each passing moment, his love for you grew stronger, a beacon of light in the midst of the storm.

As they loaded you onto the stretcher and whisked you away, Tim vowed to never leave your side and as the ambulance sped towards the hospital, his hand tightly clasped in yours, he watched over you with unwavering devotion. Inside the vehicle, the paramedics worked tirelessly to stabilize your condition, their urgent voices a constant presence in the cramped space.

"We need immediate assistance," one paramedic called out, their tone urgent. "Prepare the OR and alert the medical team."

Tim's heart pounded in his chest as he listened, his mind reeling with fear and confusion. "What's happening?" he asked, his voice trembling with anxiety.

"We're losing her," one paramedic radioed to the hospital, their voice strained with desperation. "Patient is experiencing severe hypotension, tachycardia, and respiratory distress."

Tim's brow furrowed in confusion as he struggled to make sense of the medical jargon. "What does that mean?" he asked, his voice trembling with fear.

As the hours ticked by in the dimly lit waiting room of the hospital, Tim sat alone, his thoughts consumed by worry and fear. The minutes stretched into eternity as he waited for news of your condition, each passing moment feeling like an eternity.

One by one, his colleagues began to arrive, their presence a welcome comfort in the midst of his turmoil.

First was Lucy, her footsteps hesitant as she entered the room, her eyes filled with concern as she approached Tim's side. Next came Nyla alongside Nolan, his expression solemn as his hand resting reassuringly on Tim's shoulder.

Angela followed suit, her steps purposeful as she made her way towards Tim, her eyes filled with understanding. "Hey," she said softly, her voice gentle as she settled into the chair beside him. "I came as fast as I could. I'm so sorry."

Tim looked up, gratitude flickering in his eyes as he met Angela's gaze. In that moment, he was reminded of the countless times she had been there for him, both on and off duty. Their friendship had weathered its share of storms, but through it all, Angela had remained a steadfast presence in his life.

"Thanks, Lopez," Tim replied, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I'm glad you're here."

Your eyes slowly fluttered open to the sight of Tim seated beside you, his features softened in sleep. He looked tired, yet peaceful, his handsome face illuminated by the soft glow of the hospital room.

You couldn't help but admire the tranquility that washed over him, the lines of worry smoothed away in slumber. Despite the exhaustion that lingered beneath his closed lids, there was a sense of calmness that enveloped him, making him appear more beautiful than ever before.

His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, the gentle cadence of his breaths filling the room with a soothing melody. His tousled hair framed his face in a disheveled halo, adding to his rugged charm.

As you watched him, a rush of warmth flooded your chest, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of him. Despite the chaos and uncertainty that surrounded you, there was a sense of peace that settled over you in his presence.

But as the beeping of the heart rate monitor broke the silence, jolting Tim awake, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment. The fleeting moment of intimacy you had shared was gone, replaced once again by the harsh reality of your circumstances.

And yet, as Tim's eyes met yours, there was a flicker of something in his gaze, a spark of recognition that spoke volumes.

You blinked away the remnants of sleep and offered a sheepish smile to Tim. "Sorry," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to wake you."

Tim's gaze softened as he looked at you, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "It's okay," he said softly, his voice warm with affection. "I'm just glad to see you awake. How are you feeling?"

You paused for a moment, taking stock of your surroundings before answering. "Sore," you admitted, wincing slightly as you shifted in the hospital bed. "But I think I'll survive."

Tim chuckled softly, reaching out, to squeeze your hand in a silent gesture of reassurance. "That's good to hear," he said, his voice filled with relief. "I was worried about you."

You nodded in understanding, gratitude swelling in your chest at his concern. "Did they catch them?" you asked, your voice filled with apprehension.

Tim nodded, a determined glint in his eyes. "Yeah," he replied, his tone firm. "The Italian police arrested all of them. The girls are safe, thanks to you."

Relief flooded through you at his words, knowing that your efforts had not been in vain. "That's good," you said softly, a weight lifting from your shoulders.

Tim's expression softened, a proud smile gracing his lips. "They won't get away with it," he said confidently. "Not after they nearly killed the most badass cop."

"You were scared, weren't you?" you teased, a mischievous twinkle in your eyes as you looked at Tim.

"Hey now, I wasn't scared," he protested, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Just... concerned. You know, professional courtesy and all that."

You rolled your eyes, a grin tugging at your lips. "Sure," you replied, your tone dripping with sarcasm. "Admit it, Bradford, you were terrified."

As Tim leaned back in his chair, a playful glint danced in his eyes. "Hey now, don't go getting a big head just because you survived," he teased, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "I was scared about you, okay? But can you blame me? You were practically on death's door."

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. "Oh please," you retorted, feigning indignation. "I've been in worse scrapes than that. Besides, it's not every day I get to see you in full-on hero mode."

Tim's cheeks flushed slightly at your words, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "Well, I was just doing my job," he said, trying to play it cool.

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing at the corners of your lips. "Right," you said, your tone dripping with sarcasm. "Because confessing your love to a near-death colleague is all part of the job description, huh?"

"Can we please forget that part?" Tim pleaded.

You shook your head, unable to suppress the grin that tugged at your lips. "Never," you replied, a teasing lilt to your voice. "I had to almost die so you could tell me you love me. It's a hell of a story for the grandkids."

Tim's eyes widened, a playful smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Oh, we're having grandkids now, huh?" he quipped, a hint of amusement in his tone.

You shrugged nonchalantly, a mischievous twinkle in your eyes. "Not until you kiss me," you countered, a playful challenge in your voice. "Are you gonna do that, or shall I go out there and nearly die again?"

Tim's cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red as he chuckled softly, a fondness shining in his eyes. "Oh, shut up," he muttered playfully, leaning in closer to you.

And then, without another word, he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a tender, passionate kiss. As the world fell away around you, all that mattered was the warmth of his touch, the softness of his lips against yours, and the overwhelming sense of love that filled your heart.

[radioisntdead]

can we get op reader just beating the absolute SHIT out of valentino while vox and velvette watch on in horror? :3 perhaps others too, like perchance we somehow stutmbled upon valentino's set while angel was there and are just *appalled* and therefore decide his second living privileges need to be taken away <3

- snake

Good evening my dear!

When I tell you I audibly screamed when I read this request I mean it my dear! I despise Valentino and I adore this request! I did change some things because it didn't make much sense for the reader to just pop into the studio randomly and start going ham, so I went with some light backstory and causally gave the reader the found family treatment, anyways enjoy!

The Forgotten one

Reader fic,

Warnings!!

Mild torture {I say mild but limbs are getting ripped off, I don't go into detail and there isn't much of it but be warned!!} I'm imagining reader as an eldritch horror, This is literally just the reader murdering the grape guy horrendously, Reader ended up in eternal damnation for a reason! Also I'm imagining the reader to be British??? I don't know why, that was accidental but if you get British vibes that's why.

You died centuries ago, your generation laid long forgotten, you could barely remember your life before the black death had claimed it, you could just barely recall the high fever, hurling over in your cot and spitting out the blood that had gathered in your mouth.

You probably weren't the best person since you ended up here, maybe you were a tyrannical peasant? A murderer? A person of the night? A thief?

Maybe you had a family, maybe you were wedded, maybe you had kids, maybe you didn't.

Who knows, you certainly didn't.

You wondered if you will ever be able to recall those forgotten memories about your life.

All you knew is that you climbed the ranks quickly once you ended up in the underworld, gaining many souls, and power one could only dream of, becoming a feared overlord.

You've gone through many names, The dark one, the Wicked, The witch, the Warlock, A child of darkness, the devil's child, {That one didn't age well},

Most recently though you were deemed as the forgotten one, always lurking, watching, never coming out into the spotlight unless necessary, sending one of the souls you kept in your place while you hid in your castle.

However decades of solitude gets rather boring,

So you decided to go out, see what was new, after all when was the last time you were out and about? The 70's? Oh you adored the results of that decade.

Well venturing out turned out to be such treat! Turns out that fellow who adored ducks's charming daughter opened a hotel to redeem sinners! Oh how darling it was!

You popped in to visit it, finding the residents quite lovely, you simply adored how Charlie thought that you of all sinners could be redeemed! It was quite a foolish thought

But you liked that hotel along with it's lovely little residents,and if playing along with the Princess's delusions of you getting redeemed after so, so many harsh years, would let you stay in that hotel and cure your boredom then it wouldn't hurt to entertain that foolish thought now would it?

And so you stayed as one of the residents on the path of so-called redemption!

you got along well enough with the others, although Vaggie and Alastor were suspicious of you at first, although you and Alastor got along well after bonding over how the noisy picture box was overrated, it had wow'd you at first but that quickly faded as it progressed,

It took Vaggie awhile to trust you, but after you had taught her some of the skills you had picked up in your lifetime you became like a parental figure to the woman, which played out well as Charlie was already quite fond of you,

You had practically proclaimed them both as your daughter and daughter in law, you adored them both, baking them treats, gifting Vaggie a pair of some type weapon, giving Charlie something related to unicorns, or a joint gift for them,

You quite liked their reactions upon receiving something they liked,

You liked seeing them happy a little too much, so much that you started giving the others things you thought they might like, expensive alcohol for Husk, shiny sharp knifes to hunt bugs down with for dear niffty, vintage radios for Alastor, tools and things for inventing for Sir Pentious, and matching clothes for Fat nuggets and Angel for Angel dust,

You liked seeing their expressions when they liked something, it gave a warm, bubbly feeling in your stomach,

You liked spending time with everyone too.

Chatting at the bar with husk, Angel dust explaining things to you that you don't know, watching your fellow residents sleep with Sir Pentious, sparring with Vaggie, scrapbooking with Charlie, watching one of Niffty's roach puppet shows, taking a trip to cannibal town with Alastor to visit Rosie,

You slowly began seeing the hotel residents like family, you didn't have a family, or at least you didn't anymore so you don't know exactly how they worked but you thought that this was good enough,

They were your beloved family now, formed from delusional hope,

and you were their family reborn from a forgotten era, burned to ashes and thrown to the dark pits filled with brimstone, sin and death.

You'd do anything for them, you'd die for them, you'd live for them, and you'd kill for them, they most definitely were your family now.

And you typically protect family, right?

Right?

You heard about what happened in Valentino's studio with Angel dust, the bruises.

You were displeased,

More then displeased you were upset, you were angry, how long has it been since you were this angry how dare someone lay a hand on your dear family member?

You waited until the majority of the hotel were asleep, most notably Angel,

You made up an excuse to go out, saying you had to check up on your castle after all you had unfortunate sinners working there and they're headless chickens without you!

Charlie told you to stay safe before she went up to bed with Vaggie.

You would be safe!

fortunately though, a certain Vee, would not be safe.

You did stop by your castle, to grab a spear with Angelic steel, you mentally thanked yourself for grabbing it a several extermination days ago,

You twirled it in your hand before a large sinister grin over took your face.

It had been awhile since you were out for blood.

Getting into the Vee's tower was disappointingly easy! Scaling up the wall and breaking a window? Child's play!

What wasn't easy was finding Valentino, the bald pimp moth guy, you had to look through several rooms, why did they have so many rooms? Did they even need these???

Nevermind all that, after searching for an inconvenient amount of time,

you finally found the one that had dared to harm your dear family member, you tilted your head as Valentino squinted to see who you were, unraveling his wings once he didn't recognize you.

He didn't look like much, he was tall, red eyes, and he looked like a grape with wings, the grimaced, oh poor Angel Dust, he had to look at this everytime he went to work!

Thankfully after this he didn't need too, you twitched, transforming into a more demonic form.

"Who the fu-"

He didn't get to finish the sentence as you swiftly kicked him in the kneecap causing him to fall, cursing you and wincing at the sudden pain in his knee, taking that moment you kicked him again, this time on his side, pushing him properly on the ground, placing your shoe on his ribcage you began to slowly crush his rib, grinning at the beginnings of a cracking noise

Unfortunately the little grape screamed out for the TV fucker to appear,

You could hear the sound of cables getting ripped out and the sound of footsteps.

"Val, what is it this time? Is it about angel dust again, I- ShIT VaL, wHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?''

And the TV man makes an entrance shouting, how annoying, well you could always deal with him later, raising your hand pitch black inky tentrals came out from beside you, wrapping the TV headed man and attaching him onto the couch.

Returning your focus to the soon to be deceased, again, grape

You bent down to wrap a claw onto his wing,

It was soft, maybe you could make something for Niffty with it, a blanket perhaps? Or maybe a coat?

You pulled out the wing as Valentino screamed out in pain, blood splattering onto you, the floor and the walls,

a door swung open behind you before quickly being closed, just barely leaving a gap for a phone camera to sneak though, the owner of the phone looked on in horror.

You kicked Valentino over causing him to hiss and groan as he now laid on his stomach, how unfortunate for him, who knew that if you horrendously abused your employees an centuries old overlord would be out for your blood!

You grinned at how helpless he was now, how pitiful!

You grabbed one of his arms and pulled, nerves and muscles separated and blood leaked out.

Vox looked on in complete and utter horror, he couldn't do anything,

Would he be next?

The Vee's floor was destroyed, Valentino was shredded and separated, stabbed in the head with the angelic steel you had brought along as to ensure he would NOT be coming back.

Both of his wings were folded and set neatly on the counter away from the carnage, after all if you were to make Dear Niffty something with them they had to be clean, mostly, you'd have to clean them again, who knows what diseases that man was carrying, Yuck!

You took some of the carnage and place them into containers before putting them in a bag to carry with you, you tucked the detached wings under your arm, dusting yourself off you checked the digital clock on the wall,

You should get back quickly, they'll be up soon.

Moving around the broken glass and furniture that had gotten caught up in the downfall of Valentino you made your way out the door,

You let Vox free from your tendrils, hearing him move to possibly inspect the remains of his business partner and whatever else.

You wonder if the third one was still recording?

Oh well, that's none of your concern,

You knocked things over, shattered, torn and destroyed anything you could get your hands on as you went down the Vee's tower, destroying what you could.

At the bottom floor a box of fireworks caught your eye, you supposed it was for one of the Vee's something, maybe Velvette's fashion thing or one of the skinned grape's filthy films,

Well either way, you were going to borrow the fireworks, set them up on the ground floor and light em' up,

The fireworks boomed onto the floor, sparkling and bursting into flames, burning and sizzling anything it could get it's clutches on.

You left swiftly after, getting bored, and you were practically done anyways.

You should head home now, and stop by your castle to dispose of that spear.

You hummed as you moved around the kitchen swinging a spatula around on your finger before checking on the meat that was beginning to brown in the pan,

"Good Morning [Name!]"

Charlie popped into the kitchen, turning your head to her, you smiled at her,

"Morning Dear Charlie, I'm preparing breakfast for everyone, French toast for the majority and I picked up some fresh demon meat to make something else for Dear Alastor since he doesn't like sweet things,"

"Really? That's so sweet of you!''

"Mhm, It's nothing, But be a dear and call everyone to the dining room so they can feast?"

You ask tilting your head as Charlie nodded with a 'Yes!' before hopping off to gather everyone for breakfast.

You turn back to the stove, poking your spatula into the simmering remains of Valentino, hopefully the peppers and seasons make him taste decent, you would hate for everyone else to enjoy their food and Alastor be the only one to not enjoy the meal.

Hopefully they didn't suspect you when the news covers Valentino's demise and the destroyed tower.

You are not a good person by any means, you were condemned for a reason, this all started to sooth your boredom, you can NEVER be redeemed....

Or could you?

Maybe this little makeshift family that you desperately want to protect could change you, make you a better person.

It was a foolish thought, but as long as you can make them a mildly concerning breakfast, spend time with them, give them trinkets you think they would like, you were willing to entertain that foolish thought, more then willingly.

Thank you for tuning in folks! I'm working on those Susan requests and the other WIPS I have in my pocket so look forward to those!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Hunter's Delight

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, violence, blood, coercion, and other elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A peaceful getaway turns to horror when you encounter a strange man in the woods.

Character: Kraven the Hunter

Note: So, this isn't what I was planning as my birthday fic but my other fic was just not happening lol.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

The smell of cedar tinges the air. Birds wing across the pale blue sky and critters rustle in the twigs and leaves that trim the forest floor. Shadows nestle between the trunks and lend an ominous hue to any otherwise harmonious landscape.

It’s a long needed escape from urban crush. The fatigue of your nine to five recedes as your brief getaway frees you of the unseen cuffs of modern survival. There are no emails, no memos, or stuffy meetings. There is only you and naked outdoors.

Oh, and your friends.

You never traveled much. Most of the time you had off, you were too tired to do much more than the bare minimum. You hadn’t even thought of it until Larissa invited you. It just never occurred to you to spend the money or the energy. Now you’re more than happy you did.

You follow the snakish path that dips between valleys and over hills, up steep walkways and across sprawling plateaus. The lush green is endless, littered with patches of thick forest, and the occasion running river crested by an old wooden bridge. 

Larissa chatters loudly about your eventual return to the cottage. She dreams of kebabs cooked over the campfire and some fruity sangria. You trail the others, four of you in all. Jodi and Cameron ahead of you as your host leads the way. Work friends, but you suppose more now that you’re here.

The river water sends up a fresh scent from behind the looming trunks and you glance over at the gleaming ripples, almost twinkling as you admire them between the trees. You could do this every day. Just wander until you can’t move anymore.

“I can’t believe this is your first time up north,” Jodi says, drawing you from your mind.

“Uh, yeah, never did much exploring I guess,” you shrug.

“Even as a kid?”

“Nope. I think we had one family trip and we didn’t even make it to the amusement park,” you chuckle dryly, “ah well.”

“Ugh, I remember one time, when we were camping, my brother, Toby,” Cameron begins, “he put a frog in my bag. I screamed so loud. My mother didn’t even believe me.”

“Damn,” you remark. Cam tends to do that. Everything in some way relates back to one of her stories.

“Oh, I have an idea,” Larissa stops and faces you, “we have to decide who’s cooking.”

“It’s fine, I said I would–” You begin.

“Boo, that’s no fun,” she snips, “we used to play this game when I was a kid. I always won. Whoever collects the least acorns in ten minutes cooks.”

“Acorns?” You look around nervously. “Where?”

“You shouldn’t get lost. If you go too far, just stay still and we’ll find you,” she brushes off your concern, “it’ll be fun. And I know all the best spots!”

“That’s no fair,” Jodie pouts.

“How about I start after you. I’ll only do five minutes,” she barters.

“How do we know time’s up?” Cam picks a fingernail.

“Like I said, if you don’t show up, we’ll come find you.”

“I guess…”

“Alright, how about, whoever collects the most gets princess treatment for the night. The rest of us will have to serve you drinks and get you whatever you want,” she offers with a smug grin.

You bite your lip but don’t argue. It’s obvious she’s going to win but you wouldn’t mind the chance to explore a bit more. Besides, you never complain about time alone. It’s so peaceful here, that might just be a reward of its own.

“Come on!” Larissa claps, “bragging rights are included.”

“Fine,” Cameron sighs, “I guess it’s not completely stupid.” 

“It’ll be fun just to wipe that look off your face, Lar,” Jodi snorts.

You shrug and give a nod. You have little faith in your foraging skills but you don’t mind running to the cooler a few extra times that night. Besides, the cottage did get a bit suffocating with all of you there. This might be your only chance for alone time.

“Alright, on three,” Larissa declares, “one, two–” Jodi sprints off and Larissa holler, “I didn’t say three!”

Cameron runs after her and Larissa scowls. She puts her hands on her hips and drags her foot over the grass. You give a sheepish smile and awkwardly sway.

“Guess they won’t know if I start early,” she says and sets off in the opposite direction.

You slowly putter away as you head for the river. You have no intent of gathering acorns, you just want to watch the water. You weave between the trees and come out to the shore along the winding river. You watch the lazy flow and the little minnows flitting beneath the clear ripples.

You get closer and sit on your knees in the dirt. You drag your hands through the water and push your fingers into the silt. You bend slightly and look at your reflection. You're almost hypnotised by the ambiance. 

You close your eyes and pull your hands from the water. You place them on your shorts and take a deep breath. You want to hold onto this moment, to remember it once you're stuck back behind a keyboard.

You smile and your lashes flutter open. You see your reflection again, then it suddenly darkens as a shadow comes up behind you. At first, you’re confused, but you assume it’s one of the girls trying to scare you.

“Very funny–”

You fly forward into the water, arms flailing out as you splash into the shallow depth. Your head is pushed down to the riverbed as a foot crush your skull. You cough and gag, gulping down water as your breath bubbles out of your nose. Your head begins to thrum as you choke until at last, the weight relents and you rip your head from beneath the surface.

A sharp boot cracks into your ribs and sends you onto your back. You heave as you land flat, keeping your head just above the water. A man stands above you, crystal blue eyes boring into you as a growl creases in his forehead. He squats and grabs your chin, unsheathing a large knife from his belt.

“Scream and I’ll cut your throat out,” he warns as he pokes the knife tip along your lip, hushing you as he turns it slowly.

You shut your mouth, eyes rounding in terror as you watch him. Who is he? What does he want? You can’t let him know about the other girls. At least, you hope he doesn’t already.

“Listen to me,” he traces along your jaw and down to your throat, “you will do exactly as I say.”

You blink, saying nothing. His voice is gristly and unbending. His dark hair curls behind his head and he wears a thick beard that thins to coarse stubble. Around his neck is a thick cord with a single fang hanging from it.

Your eyes nearly cross as you try to see the knife in his hand..

“Gold locket. Pearl set in the middle. Bring it to me.”

You stare at him searchingly. It’s like he’s speaking another language. Or your brain just won’t hear them as fear courses through your veins. 

“She wears it around her neck.”

You see the golden chain around Larissa’s neck. You noticed it once or twice, never really thinking much of it. You just thought it must be sentimental. Your lip trembles as the man clutches the back of your neck and leans into the blade.

“Why?”

He chuckles, “you want to live. I can feel it. So no more questions and I might let you. The locket, midnight. I will wait here. If you do not come, I will come to you. And you can weep with their heads in your bed.”

You gulp as he smirks at you. You nod slowly as he loosens his grip. He releases you. You almost sink back under the water as he stands and you push yourself up. He swirls the thick knife then holds it up to reflect the sunlight.

“Such a beautiful day, it would be a pity if it were to end in blood.”

“I will bring you the locket. I promise.”

“I know you will,” he says as he struts towards the trees, “it is why I chose you.”

You sit dumbfounded, staring after him until you can see nothing but the trees. You shiver as the water stirs calmly around you, soaking you through to the point of discomfort. You climb out of the river and wrings out the fabric of your shirt.

As you look around at the serenity of the pastoral bliss, you can’t fathom that the man had ever truly been there. The tenderness in your neck assures you otherwise. He was and he will be back.

☀️

“What happened to you?” Cameron giggles as you appear from the trees. 

“No acorns, huh?” Jodi boasts.

“I uh… dropped them in the river. Tripped,” you lie. You’re too stunned to explain further.

“You okay?” Larissa asks.

“Yep, fine,” you utter.

“Well, Jodi got eleven and Cameron got eight, and I… got twelve.”

“Cheater,” Jodi mutters under her breath.

You’re thankful they’re too distracted by their child’s game to be very concerned. You throw up your hands. “Looks like I’m cooking,” you resign dully.

“And I get to be pampered,” Larissa trills tauntingly.

“Whatever. You’ll be lucky if I don’t dump the sangria on you,” Cameron warns.

Larissa laughs. The girls might play up their cattiness but it’s just friendly competition. Another thing you never really had growing up. Friends.

They leave the acorns in the grass. You’re quiet as you follow them onwards. You look back just before you’re out of sight of the river. You don’t see the man but you have no doubt he meant what he said. He knew about Larissa and the necklace, that’s enough for you.

🌄

As a gracious loser, and a terrified individual, you volunteer to make a pitcher of sangria for the other girls. They happily accept the offer and go out to get the fire started. The night is quickly setting in as you watch the time on your phone. As there is only one solar charger amongst the bunch of you, your battery stays at fifty percent. Without reception, it isn’t of much use anyhow.

You mix the wine, brandy, lemonade and fruit together with a wooden spoon. You hear Larissa giving orders outside over the crackle of the fire. The locket with the pearl. You know she’s still wearing it, you looked for it and there it was, around her neck. What use is jewelry all the way up here.

Your thoughts are split by the snap of the spring door. Jodi tramps inside and huffs.

“Is the wine ready yet? She’s driving me nuts.”

“I’ll bring it out,” you assure her, “why don’t you grab the kebabs, they’re ready to go.”

You nod to the pan of skewers and she lets out a disappointed grumble. She takes the pan and leaves you again to ponder your impromptu mission. You’re not stupid enough to ask for the locket. You watch the oranges swirl in the wine mixture…

You can’t. Can you? You peek over your shoulder and peek through the window. They wouldn’t notice. You could say you used more wine than you thought.

You turn your back to the window. The girls can survive a few bendaryls, they won’t survive that man and his knife. You can deal with hating yourself. That’s never been hard.

You tiptoe across the kitchen. You don’t know why you think they’ll hear you, your guilt just makes you paranoid. You go down to the room and search in the lower bunk for your bag. You take out your box of emergency benadryl and slide out a full insert. Just enough for an edge, nothing deadly.

You sneak back out and drop the pills one by one into the sangria. You stir and you stir and you stir. Finally, you’re content that your potion is complete. Your curse is pharmaceutical allergy relief with a side of drowsiness. The girls are probably too thirsty to notice you’re not sharing.

🌙

Jodi stumbles back from the outhouse. You watch her cautiously, ready to hop up and catch her. She manages to make her way back to the fire and falls into the folding chair with a burp.

“Damn, that sangria is strong,” Cameron chimes.

“And it’s going right through me,” Jodi slurs into a giggle.

“Me too,” Larissa stands up and puts her hands in front of her shorts, “my turn.”

You listen to her go around the side of the cottage, her sandals scraping and scuffling. Jodi leans her head back and snorts, waking herself and lurching forward. You get up and keep her from falling out of her chair.

“Hey, you should lay down,” you say.

“Lightweight,” Cameron teases and gulps down a mouthful. You try not to cringe.

“Whatever, I’m fine,” Jodi babbles.

“Come on,” you get her up, letting her lean on you heavily.

She’s dragging her feet as you get her across the yard and to the steps of the deck. You haul her up and through the back door. Inside, you feel her slacken on your arm until you're pretty much carrying her. You get her into her bed and roll her onto her stomach, already snoring.

You check the time. It’s late. Just after eleven.

You go back out, the blaze of the fire obscuring your view of the yard.

“Not you too,” Cameron chortles as Larissa falls past the chair trying to sit.

“I think it’s time to call it a night.”

“Bleh, listen to the office administrator, she never gives it up,” Larissa sneers, “isn’t that right?”

“Yeah, I guess,” you agree softly. You want all the abuse she has to offer you. You deserve it.

“You wanted to be princess for the night,” Cameron calls over, “let her carry you to bed.”

You ignore Cameron as you steady Larissa and direct her around the fire. You take the same path with the same end, dumping her in the singular queen she claimed for herself in the main bedroom. You make sure she’s on her stomach and shake out your nerves. 

You flip on the flashlight built into your phone and shine it over her. You apologise before you unclasp the necklace. It’s heavier than you expect. You tuck it in your pocket and leave her.

One more.

Cameron meets you at the door to your surprise. She’s yawning and staggering. You let her pass as she mutters about the fire. You follow her, making sure she gets to her bed before you go outside to kill the fire.

When all is dark and still, you look up at the moon and measure the journey ahead of you. What if you get lost? What if you can’t remember the way back? You think you do. Doesn’t matter. It’s almost half past and you need to get going.

You grip your phone as you come out around the front of the cottage. You remember that you came from the right… didn’t you? You turn on your flashlight again as the darkness consumes you. You tremble at the sheer endlessness of the night.

As you set off, you hear every twig snap, every branch sway, every bat squeaking from some hidden nook. You are exposed to the unseen. Easy prey.

You hear the low trickle of water, louder in the dearth of night. You use it to guide you, flinching as leaves brush against you. You shine the light around you, trying to get a glimpse of your surroundings. It only illuminates the shadows and adds to the depths of the blackness.

A noise rolls in the darkness. Thunderous as it grows louder, footsteps making themselves heard, a beast closing in. His laughter comes from all around you, dizzying you as you spin and try to find him.

At once, he quiets and you hear nothing but the stirring of the breeze. No footsteps, not laughter, only the frantic beat of your heart. You stop and squint as you shakily raise your phone, making out the thick trunk of a tree.

There is a sudden warmth behind you. His hand is on yours, squeezing before he rips away your cell. You hear it land in the grass. His other arm hooks around your middle. His breath seeps through your hair and across your scalp.

“Give it.”

You reach into your pocket, squirming as you dig out the necklace. You hold it up with a whimper and he wraps your hand up in his again. His rough skin sends a shiver through you. He hums above the soft tinkle of the chain.

“Very good,” he keeps you close, “you are an obedient little pet, aren’t you?”

You don’t move, you don’t speak. He has what he wants. Now you want to go.

“I’ve decided,” he says bluntly. You hold your breath, trying to decipher his meaning. You try to pull away and his arm hooks tighter around you. “I will take you too.”

“What?” You quiver and grasp his arm, shoving on it without result, “no, let me go–”

“You can scream for me,” he walks you forward until you collide with a tree, putting your hands out to keep from being crushed against the bark, “the louder, the better.”

Your fingertips curl painfully against the tree. He traps you against the tree as he lets out a grow, the heat of his breath and body enshrines you. You shake and whine as panic sinks into your chest.

“Please, let me go. Please, I did what you asked–”

“I’m not asking,” he snarls and grabs your shoulder.

He spins you so violenly you can’t help but fall back against the tree. The subtle friction of metal on leather cools your blood as a sliver of moonlight gleans off the knife’s edge. You brace the tree as you babble dumbly. You don’t want to die.

He brings the curve tip of the knife to the hem of your shirt and yanks up, shearing open the front so that it falls open, revealing the bralette beneath. He makes as quick work as that, slicing up the middle and exposing you to the night chill.

He stands over you, bearing in on you as he bends slowly. You gasp as he clutches a handful of your hair and pulls your head to the side. He leans in and grazes your throat with his teeth. You writhe, caught in the arrest of his gruff touch.

He bits down, pinching your flesh until you cry out. He snickers and unclenches his teeth, trailing further down, teasing along your collarbone and over the tender flesh of your shoulder, once more nipping into you. He tortures your flesh, sucking it until it throbs.

He goes lower, tracing his path first with the metallic cold of the blade, then piercing with his teeth. He bites into the curve of your tit, he leaves sore marks blazing all around, at last taking a nipple in his mouth. His tongue swirls around your hard bud, toying with it, sucking, flicking, until finally he bites again.

You sob as he sinks his teeth in. You feel the flesh break and the warmth trickles from you into his mouth. He hums as he drinks it in, unlatching to let your rough skin turn fiery in the open air. He tends to the next, just as cruelly, as your body wracks in shock and agony.

How can this be happening? It can’t be real. You don’t understand. Who is this man? Where did he come from? You close your eyes, trying to hide from reality as it nips at your flesh.

You drone as he leaves a trail of spit and blood down your stomach, biting again and again, a tortured trail down to the top of your denim shorts. Your legs shake, threatening to give out.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tisks and pinches your thigh, “you are weak but you will not give up, pet.”

He cuts along the seams of your shorts, left then right. You tremble with bubbling, teary gulps. The denim falls to your feet and he uses the end of his knife to play with the cotton elastic of your panties. He clicks his tongue but does not voice his amusement further.

He drops to his knees, a hand framing your hip as your legs quake. He squeezes, his thumb jabbing into your pelvis. He drags his knife down the front of your panties and hooks the fabric along the tip. He tugs until they rip, breaking through the fabric, cutting a line along your cunt. 

He turns the flat of the blade against your flesh, grazing the folds before pulling it away. You bat your lashes as terror overflows. Your head lolls as your muscles twitch. You see the man’s faint shadow in the slats of moonlight breaking between the cedar trunks, you hear him lick the blade with a purr.

A silver shine reflects the eerie night glow as he raises his knife. You scream as he aims it toward you, stabbing into the wood just beside you. Your heart hammers to cacophony as he laughs at your fright.

He pushes his hand up your thigh, his calloused fingers mean against your soft skin. He feels along the shorn cotton and dips two fingers into the opening. He delves between your lips, flicking his fingers up and down your cunt. Your legs quiver and you clutch onto the divots in the bark, fighting not to fold into a heap.

He slides his fingers back and forth, feeling every part of you, doting on your clit, only to trail back to your entrance. You suck in air sharply and sob. Please just do it. Just let it be over with.

He pushes into you. Slowly, Deliberately. He leans forward and nuzzles the soft vee of hair along your cunt and sighs into you as he wiggles his fingers deeper and deeper. You groan as he stretches you. Even as your body reacts, even as the slickness welcomes the intrusion, it hurts.

He growls as he meets some resistance. You clench around his knuckles and he rams his fingers into you, to their limit. You shriek and your sandals slip in the dirt. Your nail catches in the veins of the tree and snaps.

The coolness of his tongue frightens you as it pokes out and slides along your lips. He tilts his head and glides between your folds, doting on your clit with furious flutters. You gulp and gasp, panting as a new heat blooms inside of you. Your pulse races with more than adrenaline.

He eases his fingers back then in again. Your cunt clenches around him, constricting as his tongue toys with you, flurries your nerves to an unbearable storm. Your insides clutch as rivulets of hot and cold gather in your core, mingling to a fiery roil.

You spasm, stunned by your own body. You stand on your toes as your muscles tauten and your nerves ping off each other. You cum with a raspy whine, forced over the edge by the battle of his thrusting fingers and diligent tongue.

His laughter rumbles through you as he indulges in your dissemblance. He slows as you heave helplessly. He slides his fingers out of you, leaving an emptiness there, and wipes your cum down your leg. He parts from your cunt entirely, a rocky snarl as he stands.

You smell yourself on his breath as he comes close again. He grabs the back of your neck and draws you away from the tree. Your legs tingle and shake beneath you. He turns and hurls you down to the ground. You land on your knees, hitting your elbows in the dirt.

He grabs your hips, keeping them up. He kneels behind you, one hand brushing up your back and forcing your chest down to the ground. You don’t fight him, you have nothing left.

He feels along your panties, hooking his fingers in the rent of the fabric and tears it further up your ass. He gropes you roughly, digging his nails into your skin and dragging them up, leaving hot scratches along your ass. He runs his hand from your shoulders to your hip, gripping you as his other hand retreats from your ass.

The air stills and your ears ring as each breath scalds in your chest. You stare into the deep void of the forest as his zipper splits through the silence. Time slows as dread suffocates you. This is it. This is really happening.

His fingers tickle along your ass and you twitch. He reaches your cunt, rubbing and spreading your lips, taunting you as he curves his fingers along it. He edges closer on your knees, pushing yours wider, and he pulls his hand away.

He prods you with his tip, making a slow path down to your entrance. He circles it as he groans, basking in the tension of that moment. He leans against you until his tip slips into you. You strain around him, heaving into a horrifying wail as he pushes deeper.

He reaches to your neck, pinning your face in the dirt as he jerks his hip, filling you with the single, agonizing motion. You cry out louder, your horror echoing into the sky. Your head quakes and your ears vibrate with the volume of your own grief, rising from you without restraint.

He slides back and snaps into you again. The slap of flesh underlines your breathy weeps. His weight puts an ache in your neck and down your spine. Your fingers dip into the dirt as you clutch at handfuls of dirt. He bucks again, again, again, each time growling with delight.

His palm cracks against the side of your ass, a new pain radiating through your hips. With each thrust, he smacks you, curling his nails into you, pinching, only to do it again. You whimper and wail, trapped in his fervour as you taste soil and the salt of your tears.

He bends over you, hooking his arm around your middle and the other around your neck. He sits up with you against him. His hand brushes up your side and kneads your chest as he rocks you in his lap. Your head lolls as you hiccup through your tears.

He ruts from below, splitting you in two as his muscle bulges around your neck. You wheeze as he squeezes tighter and tighter, until the world speckles to grey and black. You feel his final, jarring rams as they throb in your core, and the sudden burst of heat inside you. Almost soothing as it assures you of the end.

But it is not. He puts you on your back. Senseless, dazed, he’s on top of you, crawling over you like an animal. He fucking you against the ground, holding your leg bent against him, biting into the flesh along your shoulder. Torturing you from the inside until he’s spent again.

Not spent, not done. You’re on your side, the world flickering beneath teared-webbed lashes, each ruts shaking you. Legs together, he claps against your thighs until again he empties into you with a raucous roar.

Again, again, again. Until you’re smeared with dirt, grass, sweat, and cum. Until you’re left an empty husk across the forest floor. 

Your eyelids part as he pulls the blade from the tree, a softer light emanating from the sky as the dawn approaches. He sheathes the knife as he marches around you, poking you with the dirt of his boot. He stops and squats at your side, a crooked smile on his lips.

“This hunt is not over, pet,” he reaches to brush a roughened thumb across your cheek, “I know you are stronger than this.”

He stands again and rolls his shoulders as he shakes out his mussed curls. He takes a step forward, then another, and another, striding into the sunrise without a look back. You lay prone across the lumpy ground, trying to untangle his words. They are more than a warning, they are a promise.

[throwaway-yandere]

19th Century YANDERE!WANDERER x F!Reader idea:

You were once a well-liked farmer in a remote village. Despite owning a small library of your own, which was a massive social symbol of wealth at the time, you experienced no discrimination from both the rich and the poor. Each side treated you with respect for you grew the finest of fruits and vegetables at such a cheap price. Go any lower, and they'd think you were positively doing charity work. Every poor man and noble maids would line up each morning for a chance to buy "Lady (Y/n)'s produce".

However, you faced your peaceful life's turning point when a hooded young man opted to cut the line. With grace, you approached him and politely told him to follow the rules. You see, if he cannot respect others, how can he respect the food you've grown with such kindness and care?

That's when WANDERER's interest piqued. He understood little of the North's customs. Where he's from— most transactions can be accelerated with the help of a Fixer. When (Y/n) raised an eyebrow at the sight of his bribery, he understood that he royally messed up. He didn't apologize, but he admitted that he was wrong and left the marketplace. But that was when he knew, there might finally be a place for him after all the traveling he had done.

If the village thought your prices were near charitable, your approach to befriending the WANDERER certainly was saint-like behavior. You visited his inn and presented him with a bread basket. With a hearty laugh, you uttered hopes that you were not bothering him as you watched him fix his bed-head. The dark-haired man could only watch perplexed as you motioned to the chair and asked to sit down. You asked for his name, he didn't comply. You asked if you could call him "Iris", just like how you'd assign flower petnames to close friends, and he only replied with a morning grunt and a pinkish hue on his cheeks.

Iris Ensata, in the royal gardens, meant "a gentle heart". Whether you knew floral languages or not, each time you called him by that name, his chest tightens as though he has one.

He's grown fond of your conversations, but his travels cannot cease. WANDERER's goal had always been to find an ancient artifact his mother preached. Attaining it meant he would be the next to rule the land, for he was secretly the Crown Prince. He was vague whenever he talked about his troubles to you, but you instantly related to his musings. You yourself managed the farm because you wanted to please your father. He saw you as a lesser human, and decided that to prove your worth, you needed to manage your own small "empire". His mother was the same. Both of you were tested, and you are now standing on the same crossroad. To be a slave to a kin's whims, or to carve your own path? He had yet to decide that for himself...

Hence, when stress had taken its toll, he pulls out his map to find his way back to you. Moonshines later, he reached the point where he no longer required one. His soul knew where you were. Where home was. Stopping by the village just to see you was always a lull before the storm. And he was incredibly excited to tell you that his adventure is now finished, and the crown now rests on his head.

But what if he was too late to salvage what was left of such a natural disaster? What if the lull was eerie? What if the lull was a silent void he could never get rid off?

In his return, he found not a storm, but a rain of fire. There, at the center of the square, was you. The smell of singed hair defiled his senses, and your face burned in his mind. He saw you everytime he closed his eyes.

"BURN THE WITCH!!! BURN THE WITCH!!!"

The mob drags on. And on. And on. The chant does not stop. He stands there, petrified.

When only the lull remains, he pulled down his hood and looked over to the stake you once stood.

"It's just ashes..." He muttered. "Nothing left but a-ashes..."

He chuckled, humorless. His voice was once a small crackling sound, like the fire that took you, until it erupted into a full blown laughter. His eyes were wide, and his grip on both your ashes and the earth you once tended to and loved made his knuckles white. The WANDERER— no, The CROWN PRINCE laughed hard in his mind, but that was not what the townsfolk heard.

What they heard was the alarming anguished screams of a lover who had everything he had stolen away.

He will be merciful, for he knew you still loved your friends and neighbors even when they had tied and burnt you to crisps. He will make their deaths brief. As brief as his soldiers could make this whole village burn and purged off all its filth.

Maybe when the spring comes back, so too will you return. Maybe once he had purged off all the filth in this village's wreckage, he'll find his home.

But until then, there is no longer any sense of gentleness in his own heart.

[zedwards]

that which remains unsaid…

workaholic bf x male reader

word count: ~1.0k

genre: angst(?), fluff(?), slice-of-life

author’s note: this was based on plucholy’s accountant/office worker oc. plucholy is an 18+ artist, so minors should NOT interact with his page.

feedback/interactions are appreciated! helps me keep motivation alive ^_^

archie sits at his desk, flipping through various documents piled up on his desk. he pores over the numbers over and over again, wracking his brain to come up with a way to increase the projected profit for the department he manages at work.

he’s been crunching numbers all week trying to balance budgets and get the sales projections to go a certain way that would boost the department’s output, but the prospects are not looking good.

it doesn’t help that a lot is riding on his ability to pull this off, and if he fails to do so, his boss will never let him hear the end of if it. not to mention the board will most definitely be on his…

…his uh…

…his concentration is momentarily interrupted by a gentle knock on his at-home office door. you poke your head in cautiously, your eyes adjusting to the dark room. his face is illuminated by the screen of his laptop, a glare of which can be seen reflected on his glasses.

steeling yourself, you clear your throat before speaking up. “archie…?”

archie glances at you briefly over his glasses before turning back to his documents. he mutters a terse “yeah?” in lieu of a response.

“sorry to bother you, i just wanted to make sure you’re okay and that you’re taking care of yourself… drinking water and all that.”

he doesn’t so much as spare you a glance. “i’ll drink some water when i’m done with this. now is not the time.” he dismisses your concern with little more than a click of his mouse. the cold attitude hurts a little, but you try not to take it personally.

“ah, okay… is there anything i can do for you?”

archie eyes you with some disdain. he lets out a frustrated sigh, letting the arm that was previously propping his head up drop on the desk with perhaps a bit too much force to be considered passive. “don’t you think i’d ask you if i needed something? leave me to my work. i’m trying to meet a deadline.”

okay, that one stings. you know it’s only because he’s stressed about work, but still... you have to repress the urge to sigh. sometimes reminding yourself that it’s just his work-related frustration manifesting itself doesn’t reassure you as much as you’d like it to.

rubbing the back of your neck, your ears burn in embarrassment as you weigh your options. you don’t want to test his patience, but not making sure he’s taking care of himself just isn’t an option. ultimately, you figure if he’s gonna keep working like this, he should at the very least get some food in his system.

“alright then, um… i’m gonna order some takeout, you want anything?”

“no. do what you want.” another curt response. his voice remains sharp, uncaring, and dismissive as he glares back down at his documents.

“okay,” you reluctantly concede. “let me know if you change your mind…”

“i won’t. now leave me alone.”

you wince at his harsh words. if it were anyone else, you would have probably gotten fed up and snapped at them by now. but this is your boyfriend after all. you know him better than to think that pushing the issue would amount to anything other than more frustration for the both of you.

you decide to take the path of least resistance and slowly back out of the room. just before you close the door, however, you poke your head in one more time.

“i love you…” at this, archie pauses. his eyes soften as he sits upright, finally making eye contact with you.

“i love you too, honey. just…” he sucks in a tense breath of air through his teeth. you can see his exposed chest rise and fall almost theatrically beneath his unbuttoned shirt as he sighs. “just leave me alone, alright?”

you give a thoughtful nod, carefully closing the door to make as little noise possible.

archie sighs deeply, rubbing his temples. despite being very cold with you just now, he feels himself soften after the exchange. he takes a moment to re-collect himself, then gets back to work.

archie doesn’t emerge from his office until well past midnight, after you’ve long since retired to bed. he enters the kitchen to make something quick to eat, but stops in his tracks the moment he turns the corner. there, sitting expectantly on the counter, is a box of chinese takeout with a note taped to the side.

"i know you asked me not to, but you know me, always the worrier... i got you your favorite. enjoy :)"

archie sighs. shaking his head at the note with a soft smile creeping up on his face, he takes a seat to eat his food. Archie finishes off his portion and puts the leftovers away in the fridge, and then does a quick sweep of the kitchen to tidy up before he heads off to the bedroom.

sure enough when he enters the bedroom, you've already long since fallen asleep, breathing softly with just your head poking out from under the covers.

he stands there for a moment, unable to tear his eyes away from your peacefully sleeping form. eventually he approaches the bed and begins to silently remove his clothes, careful not to disturb you.

down to just his boxers, he gently slips into bed, not wanting to startle you. once under the covers, archie reaches over to wrap his arms around you, gently pulling you close.

you shift a little in your sleep, unconsciously chasing the warmth of your boyfriend's embrace, at which archie chuckles to himself. nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck from behind, he closes his eyes, and allows himself to drift off, comforted by the all too familiar scent of his beloved.

[armpirate]

Kalla || Choi San

pairing: Choi San x fem!reader || Strangers

w.c.: 5.2k

Warnings: Smut, softdom!San x sub!reader, teasing, protected sex, soft bondage, tickler, dirty talk, rough sex, mentions of voyeurism, swingers and BDSM. If you're a minor, refrain from reading it. Also, if you don't like this content, just keep scrolling.

Summary: The calla lily has a fair amount of symbols related to it. And the owner of the hotel you were sent to work to chose to use the hidden lustful, sexy and sensual meaning of it.

You struggled with trying to do many things at the same time: getting the luggage out of the cab’s truck, all while trying to keep your Gucci bag still hanging on your arm, holding your phone against your ear, and trying to look as neat and professional as you could manage to. 

It was a challenge.

The fact that the cab driver didn’t even bother to get out of the vehicle to help you, and just limited himself to look through the rearview, pressuring you to end fast, was annoying you. Huffing once your things were out, and closing the truck as hard as you could, showing off your frustration, got you wondering if you’d have reacted the same way in any other circumstances. 

Back home, you were in the middle of moving out from the apartment you shared with your -now- ex boyfriend, all while processing that he chose to cheat on you the same day you needed support the most after being rejected for a project you were looking forward to. Yet the Marketing manager, and also your friend, thought it’d be a good idea to make you travel all the way from home to Seoul to get you to talk with a possible new client -that was planning to open a new hotel in London. 

“How was the flight?” Lizzie casually asked.

“Oh, it was great” you answered, the irony in your tone already getting your friend ready for your complaints. “Out of all the people in the plane, I was the only one who had a massage chair, which worked with the feet of a diabolic little kid” all the excitement that Lizzie built in mid sentence, dropped down as you finished up. 

It seemed like the universe was urging you to give up on everything you had ever wanted. Marriage? Your boyfriend cheated on you and destroyed the four-year relationship you two had. Family? If it wasn’t enough to see your brother’s wife lose her tiny bit of sanity because of your nephews, you kept crossing paths with kids and parents that made you reconsider that deep wish of ever starting a family. 

At that point, you only craved peace

You sighed, trying to regain some calmness that you seemed to have left at Heathrow. “Who is the client?”. You remembered his name was discussed in one of the meetings, but you were too distracted to pay enough attention -in your defense, you didn’t think that project would be yours anyway. 

“Kalla” was written in big, with neat letters, sophisticatedly brightened by white lights, that also allowed the dark golden borders to shine, over the big revolving door. 

Lizzie finally spoke again “He’s young, Asian…” you had to interrupt her when you heard that, because there was no way she used that only to describe.

“Well, no shit Sherlock, I’m in Seoul”  you threw your head back, trying to not let your annoyance get the worst of you. “Nevermind, I’ll just ask for the owner” that’d definitely work better, and faster, than waiting for your friend to give details and explanations that could work out for you. And it wasn’t like you had the patience either.

After hanging up the phone, and dragging your things inside the hotel, you were surprised by the delicate reception that reeked of expensiveness.Maybe it was the high walls that seemed to have no ending, the white marble floor, or the big calla lily flower that adorned the curved black stairs to the first floor. 

Heading to the huge counter across the reception, you supported your weight on it, getting the attention of a well dressed woman, who placed her waistcoat properly before speaking to you “I’m looking for the owner of the hotel. I’m Y/n, a representative from Youth. I had a meeting scheduled with him”.

The woman, all while smiling, nodded and checked on the computer hidden underneath the counterpart, confirming everything you’ve just said “Yes, here it is. But unfortunately Mr. Choi is busy right now. I’m afraid he won’t be able to meet with you until tomorrow morning”

Great. You tried your best at holding yourself back from rolling your eyes. It wasn’t like it was going to change your plans that much, because you wouldn’t be flying back home until two days later. But the plan was to have the first contact meeting as you arrived, and spend the next day exploring the hotel and discussing what objectives he had for his new hotel in London. You could still do all that tomorrow, but the slight change of plans -that messed with the strict schedule you settled to yourself- irked you. 

“I’ll give you your room key” she announced, after you agreed on waiting for him. “Our spa is open until nine, just like the pool. The pub is open until three. And if you crave something yummy, the room service is available all day.” pointing the way towards the lifts on the left, she said “Your room is the 115 on the second floor. Hope you enjoy your stay” said that, she bowed and waited for you to leave. 

When you got to your room, you wondered if you were getting a special treatment, or if all the rooms were alike. Because fucking hell. As you let your body dive in the fluffy mattress, you took a look around. Despite the black walls, the room still looked quite big for just one person. The decoration was quite minimalistic, following the white, yellow and black tones that you had already seen in the reception. In one corner of the room, next to the TV, you saw a black and white painting with a calla lily flower on it. And, considering the name of the hotel was “Kalla”, it made sense that their decoration focused on that flower in particular. Resting your head back on the mattress, you were finally aware of the several small mirrors on the ceiling, that could form one big mirror altogether if you looked properly. It was definitely a place to share with a partner, and Lizzie was so cruel for giving this work to you after what happened…

Rubbing that thought away, or at least trying to, you opened your luggage. It was eight, and it wasn’t like you were starving -because you made sure to stop somewhere to get something to eat before the supposed meeting-, but you needed a drink. And you were planning on staying in that pub until three. 

You weren’t exactly planning on clubbing while in Seoul, or going out for drinks, so your clothes were focused on serious meetings and casual clothes. You tried your best at combining both, to get a decent look before you went downstairs with a pair of jeans, a lilac blouse and a pair of black stilettos -that got you regretting your decision of wearing them after fifteen minutes, rushing yourself to sit on the first free stool you saw. 

San came back to the hotel where he spent most of his time, greeting the employees that were chattering behind the counter at the reception before heading directly to the open pub at the other side of the hall. 

The atmosphere there was always… exciting. And he loved the huge variety of people that were there. From couples enjoying their time before they jumped straight to their rooms or single people that were looking for someone to spend the night with, to those who found joy only looking at others. Or so that was the typical thing there. Of course, there were exceptions, like the woman who was sitting at the corner of the counter, too focused on her own drink to bother herself by lifting her eyes from it. 

And while he’d have ignored her to show some feedback to the women who had their eyes on him already, there was something in her aura that instantly attracted him to her. 

“The same as always?” the bartender asked, receiving a short nod from San before he took the spot next to you. 

He peeked at your drink, or what was remaining from it, and puckered his lips in approval. He had worked several years as a bartender to know that your drink was a Sex on the beach. The bitter taste of vodka, mixed with the fruity flavor of peach and cranberries was sexy. And the suggestive name of the drink was pretty much in line with the concept of the hotel. 

Yet you seemed completely uninterested in anyone. So he wondered if you were one of those who liked to go solo but being watched by others. Maybe that was your thing. 

“A pic will last longer” you caught him off guard by your comment, finally raising your eyes from the glass to the attractive man in front of you.

“I was just checking your drink”

“You know that sounds suspicious as fuck” you squinted your eyes at him.

You’ve dealt with several assholes while partying, those who’d do anything to get their dick wet -and you meant absolutely anything. But that man didn’t seem like one of those. Despite his harsh looks, you could find some kindness underneath. Maybe it was the way he was smiling, and the dimples that formed perfectly on each one of his cheeks before he spoke again. 

“That’s not what I meant” he got momentarily interrupted by the waiter handing him a short, but wide, glass of what you thought could be whiskey. “I just thought it was a good choice”

Lifting your drink a bit, you twisted your lips “Honestly, it seemed to be the softest drink in the menu” you had a high tolerance to alcohol, you just hated the excessive taste of it. 

“I’m San, by the way”

“Y/n”

San nodded again, scanning his eyes all over your body. Unable to not admire the way those jeans fitted perfectly in your curves, embracing your legs and ass on that stool, while his eyes avoided to be too obvious when they landed on your small cleavage -although, from his perspective, he could see more than enough to know that what you were hiding underneath was too good to hide it.

“I guess you come here often” you muttered, making him look at you with frowned eyes. “He said he’d get you the same as always”.

“So you like listening to others’ conversations” he teased you.

“More like, I’m an observer by nature” which was a requirement for your job. 

San nodded, curious about your response. You were a flirt, but it was so unconscious and natural from you that he could tell you didn’t belong to that place. Yet at the same time you fitted so perfectly. 

He could also tell you weren’t that good of an observer, because you seemed to be completely unaware of the three men that had their eyes on you two since he approached you. Or maybe you were aware, and he was just lucky that you were playing along with his game. 

“What about you?” he took a sip from his drink. “What brings you here?”

“Business” you nodded. “I had to meet with someone for a project, but the asshole didn’t dare to show up and didn’t even bother to inform me beforehand. So I’m here, killing time”

Minutes went by, letting him invite you for another drink when he also asked for another one for him, while you two just talked about anything. You swore you had never been that comfortable with anyone before, not even your ex boyfriend. Talking with San was so easy and fluent, it was like there was no way the conversation could die, because you two always managed a way to connect the previous topic to a new one. 

Well, that, and the fucking tension. You caught his eyes flying to your lips more than once while speaking, licking his own before smirking. And you’d done the right same thing a little too many times as well. He also touched your knee a few times, and you weren’t sure if he had done it on purpose or not, but the tickles in your stomach were dying for him to stick his hand there -accidentally or not. Something was pulling you to each other, but your own restrictions kept stopping any kind of move forward. 

You didn’t know San was convinced of winning that inner battle you had, no matter what. And, maybe, you were willing to lose for once, as well.

“So you don’t like rough drinks” he brought up again.

“Picky taste, they call it” you joked, moving the short straw in circles. 

He wondered if that was the only thing you didn’t like to be rough. 

San then took a drink, and you were so lost on the way his Adam’s apple moved as he gulped the drink, that you were unable to control yourself.

Fuck whatever inner battle you were having.

“But… can I try it?” you asked.

Without hesitation, San turned to you and offered you his glass. Instead, you moved to him, both of your hands enclosing around his neck before you link both of your lips together. You wanted to forget about that lame pick up line you pulled, but most importantly, you needed to know if his lips felt as good on yours as you had been imagining for almost an hour. And fuck they did. The heart-shaped form molding on yours as if you had been destined to meet that night. 

To your surprise, he answered your kiss, just as hungry and needy as you. Soon turning more possessive, controlling. You started the kiss, but he took control of it as his hands pressed on each side of your waist.

You weren’t a big fan of one night stands. You hated the idea of going to bed with a total stranger, even kissing one put you in a tough position. But something about San kept drawing you to him. You weren’t sure if it was the taste of whiskey every time his tongue twirled on yours, the way his thumb rubbed on your sides, or the heat that he was able to create with just his presence. But you were ready for everything he could give you.

“Should we take this somewhere?” he asked, breathless.

Yes, please.

But you didn’t beg out loud. You simply nodded, trying to guess how you’d stand up without falling down. Because your legs felt weak as hell at that point. 

The big question was where. You had too many important documents in your room, regarding that hotel project, to mess it all up because you were horny enough to invite a hook up in there. 

But again, he chose on your behalf, holding your hand to guide you towards the lifts you’d taken not that long ago. Your mind was too busy thinking about all the sinful things you wanted to do to him, to worry about your drinks not being paid. Your mind was filled with him, and when you got inside that elevator, his name intensified so deep in your brain that you couldn’t help but jump again on him, earning a chuckle from him against your lips that sent shiverings all over your body. And those only increased when he pressed you against the cold wall.

“Patience” he gasped, holding your hands on each side of your head when your fingers rushed to unbutton his black velvety waistcoat. “Don’t tell me I’ll have to teach you what that is”.

“Well, I’m quite a restless ass, so…” you managed to say under your breath.

That response, the way you tilted your head… You were one hell of a tease, and he knew he’d have a lot of fun with you tonight. 

All his sinful thoughts, filled with all of the things he wanted to do to you, were interrupted by the bell of the lift when you two got to the top floor. 

Sucking on your lower lip one last time, he held your hand and guided you down the hall. And with every step, you found yourself more nervous, but also excited and eager for what was to come. It was your first time ever hooking up with a man that you had just met, but you were ready for everything you two could offer to each other. 

San moved the key card skillfully over the magnet, unlocking the door to his room. You held your breath, trying to get as much air as possible as you were waiting for another kiss. But, instead, he invited you in and followed you from behind, closing the door and turning the lights off. 

His room was like yours, but reversed. Just a few things changed in the distribution, like the bathroom -instead of being at the left like yours, his was at the right. 

There was a moment of silence, thick and heavy, almost unbearable by the way he was looking at you with such intensity. The sound of the heels of his shoes hitting against the wooden floor made your heart beat a bit faster, leaving you close to pass out when he stood in front of you. 

His warm breath caressed your forehead, while his fingers pulled from your blouse, taking it out of your jeans before they moved up to those small white buttons. He unbuttoned each one, eyes focused on yours, as if he were wanting to say all the things he was planning for that night with them. He stopped his job though, moving his fingers upwards to your jaw, making a burning trail from that spot to your collarbones, moving the fabric enough to expose part of your shoulder before his fingers trailed down. He traced the curve of your breast, so slowly that it was painful, moving over the space between your tits, stopping at the place where he stopped unbuttoning your shirt. 

“Get naked for me” he demanded, but in such a sweet tone that it felt like honey to your ears.

As you nodded, he stepped back, only taking off the waistcoat you tried to rip off back in the elevator, throwing it somewhere in the room, before taking a seat over the edge of the bed. 

You took your heels off while you fought with the buttons left of your blouse, moving down to fight with your jeans when the upper fabric was long gone. You got naked in a new record time, but he stopped you when you finally took off your bra. Lifting two fingers in the air, he motioned you to start walking towards him. 

“We have all night, babe” he assured you, placing you in between his open legs, before you almost lost all balance when his tongue swirled around your nipple. 

He loved the way your body reacted to him almost instantly, feeling the buttons getting hard on his tongue with just a few moves, while you were trying your best at hiding your pleasure expression from him. Although, all that stopped when his lips closed around one of them. San was fast getting drunk from your taste, your reaction and that subtle coconut smell that was mixed with your arousal scent. Changing from one button to the other, he started slipping your panties down, making your skin burn with the way his fingers barely touched you on their way down. 

You felt a throb shaking you up from head to toe when his lips got in contact with your belly for the first time.

“Lay on the bed” he demanded.

You just did what he said. Feeling good over him having that amount of power over you, strangely excited by how you were fully naked in front of him while he was still completely clothed -although he was fighting against the knot of his tie while he walked around the bed. 

When he took out some pieces of the headboard to show off two long chains that came from each side, you instantly sat up. 

“Why does your room have this?” 

San looked at you confused for one second. All rooms had all kinds of sex toys or accessories, they were just hidden for the customer’s comfort and to keep the elegance of the hotel itself. “I’m sure yours has it, too”.

You still looked confused, because why the hell would a hotel have chains on the headboard of its beds.

“This hotel is designed for this, and aimed at people into this type of thing” he bothered to explain, kneeling next to you on the bed. “I thought you knew it”.

He knew there was something strange about you the second he laid his eyes on your body back in the pub, but he never thought it’d be that you were completely unaware of the hotel’s nature.

It was something that you’d have known if you had held the meeting with the owner, but you didn’t. 

“We can stop it all right now” you heard him say.

And despite being confused about what was happening, you still rushed to stop him from moving. Could be you were too into that man, too lost in his inverted triangle torso under that white shirt, or the way his bulge marked under his slacks, but you didn’t really want it to stop. 

“I want to go on” you assured him, instantly earning a sided smile from him. 

He stretched the black tie in his hands, looking at you with a careful gaze “Whenever you’re unsure, uncomfortable… If you just want to stop, use the safe word, calla, and I’ll stop. Understood?”.

After seeing you nodding, he wrapped his tie around your head, covering your eyes with the black and thick fabric. Gently, he pushed you towards the mattress, with two fingers against your chest, until you were finally lying down. 

With your eyes covered, you felt like your other senses multiplied per ten. You could perfectly hear the sound of the thin chains rubbing against the metallic headboard, you could feel the light weight of each one of the handcuffs next to your wrists as San placed himself on top of you. 

He closed the two puffy handcuffs around you, restricting your moves, but also making sure they wouldn’t be that tight to hurt you. 

Your back momentarily arched when you felt something light and soft caressing your skin, tracing an invisible line from your jaw, down to your neck and collarbones. San found delightful the way your body responded to the plastic flower running over your body. It was all your subtle responses that made him twitch in his pants faster than he’d want to. He wanted to teach you about patience, and there he was, almost close to losing his because of the way your hairs lifted as the petal drew the rugosity of your nipples, your how thick you swallowed when it kept moving down to your belly button. 

The touch of that thing on your body, ghosting over your skin, and teasing your pelvis, as San moved back to straddle your thighs, was sending you to a whole new place. Needy, eager, desperate… Those were the words that would describe you right now, as your arousal kept leaking while all you wanted was him. San was a king at building up the moment and getting you ready for him. He was giving a whole new meaning to the word patience. 

You stopped feeling his weight on your body, but you did feel it on the mattress, in front of you. Biting your lip to hold back a moan, when he lifted your leg from your ankle. That soft thing was tempting the curve of your sole, moving forward to the marked bone of your ankle, before it started moving up past your calve. Still going up to your inner thigh, you felt San’s strong hands enclosing around your knees, parting your legs to finally see by himself his creation. Your slick creating thin lines among your folds when he left you completely open. 

“You’re so gorgeous” he assured, finally allowing you to feel his lips on the soft skin of your inner thighs. 

It was your first time in that place, in that situation, but you were molding in so perfectly, you were looking so fucking tempting, he had to remind himself he had to be easy on you. He was dying to use one of the whips hidden behind the secret closet next to the TV, or overstimulating you with one of the vibrators until you asked him to stop. Only because you dared to go faster than what he was planning to back in that elevator. 

Maybe another day. 

You felt his weight disappearing from the bed, but you still heard the sound of his clothes moving, barely making a sound when they fell to the ground around him. Soon after he joined you again, placing himself between your thighs, and letting his heavy dick rest on your pubes, grinding on you “Are you going to take me like a good girl?”.

You nodded, thinking it’d be enough with just that. Until a hard span on your thigh made you jump, and bite your lip to shut the whimper tempting to get out.

“Use your words”.

“Yes” your voice sounded so weak, he found it cute. 

Your hips instantly lifted when he moved his tip all over your slit, getting himself wet enough before thrusted in all at once, making a scream get drowned at the back of your throat while holding yourself onto the chains by the surprise. Waiting a few seconds, he rolled his hips back again slowly, before thrusting into you hard again, making your whole body collapse against the mattress. 

He repeated that same move a few times, just to buckle his hips and go faster in you, not allowing you to feel empty for long enough before he was filling you completely again. “So tight and good” he moaned “You have no fucking idea what beautiful you’re looking right now, being fucked so good” His fingergrips dinted on your skin, and you were sure you’d be filled with his marks the morning after. But you couldn’t care less. You were too lost in pleasure, too over the moon by his cock rubbing against all the right spots, that you were even having a hard time controlling your own moans.

And he was aware, and bothered by it. San was seeing you moving your body constantly, clenching your jaw while pressing your lips together, with only small whines and gasps getting to escape your mouth with every thrust, forcing him to press his digits on your cheeks, parting your lips so those sounds would be filling the room. 

“This is how I want you, babe” his hand went down to your waist, lifting your hips a bit more. “Be a fucking mess for me. Let everyone know who’s fucking you this good”.

You yourself were surprised by your own whimpers, finding it hard to believe those loud moans and begs were coming from you. Never in your life you thought you’d feel so much pleasure to be so loud, always thinking it was something exaggerated by the few porn movies you used to watch when you had to do the job your ex didn’t. 

It was the first time in your life you were losing yourself completely, not having a single bit of control over your body. 

His fingers dragged the tie down, now placed around your neck, before he pulled from it to force you to look at him. 

You were too shy to keep your eyes on him, but too fucking turned on by own looks to move them away. His jaw was clenched, his eyes -almost covered with his bangs- were filled with sinful words that were roaming in the back of his head. You looked down at his marked abs, and the outline of his pelvis, pounding against you so hard that you thought he was planning to break you in half, while your body just bounced with it. 

You were unable to resist when his fingers started tracing circles around your clit. Your legs kept being pushed apart by his free hand whenever you aimed to close them. “I’m gonna cum” your head hung in the air, now rocking with the rest of his body and his full control. 

“You gonna cum on my cock?” he tilted his head. “Do it. Make a mess for me, babe”.

It took him those words, and three more circles around your bundle of nerves, and your pussy was milking him hard and tight while cumming all around him. And after seeing your eyes rolled to the back of your head, hearing that broken loud moan, and feeling you clench so tight around him, he reached his high short after. 

After a few minutes, you were still recovering from that powerful orgasm, just that you were untied and looking up to the ceiling next to him in his bed. after he came back from throwing away the condom. 

You were waiting for your client in the waiting hall of the hotel, still thinking about the amazing night you spent with that hot stranger. Although you felt a bit guilty after basically running away from his room after he fell asleep after the second round. San assured you you could spend the night there. And, while you agreed, there was something inside you that made you get up and leave him there while he slept. 

Could be you’d see him again later today to be able to apologize. Could be you’d never see him again -and, honestly, that upsetted you more than it should have. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by a group of voices that were getting closer to your room, until the door opened and showed a neatly dressed woman -that was probably around your age. 

“Mr. Choi will be with you in a second” she assured her.

And just nodding, you sat back on the armchair while playing nervously with your fingers on your lap. You expected that man to be someone old, rough and difficult to handle. Because there was no way you were the only one in the office acceptable to take the job. You were sure more than one person rejected the project, and you were the only dumb one to take it.

“Sorry for being so late…”

You froze on the spot when you saw him. If you had had a way to hide yourself anywhere, you for sure would’ve jumped anywhere to close yourself inside forever. The man you were begging for more last night, that had you in shambles and almost crying from pleasure, the same man you abandoned at five in the morning in the sneakiest way possible, was standing in front of you. 

“Mr. Choi?” you asked, nervously.

“You’re the agent from Youth?” unlike you, his looks brightened when he saw you. “So I’m that asshole?”.

Reminding how you ranted against the owner of the hotel with him, you were aware you were talking to the person you were talking shit of.

No. Now. Now was when you wanted to hide forever. That probably was the worst way to start the negotiations for a project.

[couldtransitionsaveher]

EMIL SINCLAIR from LIMBUS COMPANY

JUSTIFICATION:

"The unhatched egg metaphors. The constant anxiety and insecurity. The Zwei ID art where she looks like a gay librarian. The scene in Hell's Chicken where Ryoshu's team is all women oh and Sinclair too. The cute little Faelantern dress... it is my belief that Sinclair will only reach full self-actualization once she realizes she's a girl. This goes for the Sinclair from Demian (1919) too but I don't know as much about that one." - Anonymous

"okay. where the hell do I start.

Sinclair (Limbus Company) is based directly off of Sinclair (Demian - this will come up in a minute), and is a largely withdrawn, melancholic "boy" whose associated imagery is an egg and breaking out of a shell (again - more in a minute), and characters comment sometimes that she seems like she has an inner turmoil/darkness to her. a couple of her outfits just straight up look like mid-transition fits. her appearance in the album art for the song used in her chapter (itself based on the painting described below) is one of the most #girl things imaginable Sinclair from the source text (Demian)

1. struggles with her parents' expectations for her, and her increasing betrayal of those expectations (leading to such lines as "-at times I didn't want the Prodigal Son to repent and be found again. But one didn't dare think this, much less say it out loud.")

2. becomes friends with Demian who, aside from representing a more nuanced take on the black/white logic of point 1, Sinclair regularly remarks how cool it is that Demian's face is kinda feminine

3. begins to view herself as destined to live between two worlds, the light and the dark, human and inhuman, and, interestingly, "man and woman in one flesh". for all this is treated as a fear it's also explicitly stated to be something she desires

4. stops and thinks one day in college "perhaps I am not like other men?"

5. sees some random pretty girl one day and decides the concept of that pretty girl must be the path to return to the world of light/salvation. she learns to paint just to paint this girl and doesn't get it perfectly accurate but is pleased nonetheless. she becomes obsessed with this painting and stares at it while falling asleep before eventually realizes that the painting actually resembles herself, not as she feels she is but "-what determined [her] life, it was [her] inner self, [her] fate ... what the woman [she] would love would look like if ever [she] were to love one. That's what [her] life and death would be like..." - she eventually burns the painting and eats the ashes, y'know normal "girl who hasn't realized it yet" behavior

6. throughout the entire book she has visions relating to and is tied to imagery of eggs and birds escaping their shells to take flight" - Anonymous

Reminder: Submissions are always open! Submit here!

Did you make your daily click today?

[locobastaaa]

The fine line between what's real and what's not

Tighnari x Reader

Tw: suggestive at the end, Wanderer (Sora) slander (we love him), hybrid bunny! Reader

Word count: 1.4k

Your gaze felt heavy on him once he noticed, and you didn't take your eyes off him while he moved around in a frantic hurry. He didn't need to be so nervous under your stare, and he tried to seem unbothered by it, but his tail betrayed him, swaying around behind his back in rapid strokes. 

You chuckled at the sight, moving your palm to accommodate the curve of your cheek as you rested your head on the table, notes and ink splattered on the fair wood, your eyes following the dark spots, reminding you of the work undone. 

You sighed quietly, but your eyes found his figure again, following the droplets of rain curling at the ends of his hair and down the floor. He thought that maybe you'd taken Nahida's words too seriously, but shook his head. You were smarter than that, there was no way you believed that mushrooms would start growing on his head by some little rain that caught up to him when he finished up his daily routine of forest-watching. 

His ears flattened at the top of his head when he remembered the condition of the forest. The complaints of the citizens and wanderers about the increase of mechanical animals were getting irritating, even though he assured that none of the creatures were nearby the path that most (he wanted to say everyone but there were some that shook the recommendations of the forest guide off like it was a challenge to stay on the road, trying to make themselves brave by putting them and everyone around in danger just to prove guts) followed, the letters kept appearing on the mailbox, he even had to accompany some people down the path to see if he was missing something, if he saw what other people claimed he wasn't seeing (which he doubted, but better be safe than sorry), but as soon as they pointed out what seemed to be one of the monsters, forcing him to take out his bow, Tighnari had to restrain himself from shooting them on the head when he realized that the 'mechanical crab' was a deformed tree. 

"Tighnari?" Your voice took him out of his head, realizing his jaw was clenched and his nails had poked holes through his gloves. 

He spared you a glance just as quickly as he averted his gaze, falling down to the door in front of him to hide his flushing cheeks. 

Why were you this cute? He still didn't seem to find the answer, and he didn't find the answer as to how his name on your tongue felt electrifying either, but he'll eventually figure it out (or flat out admit it, since he already knew, Cyno's words, not his). 

"Yeah? Having trouble answering letters?" He spoke too softly for his taste, but you made no comment about it, spinning back to your desk as your hand picked up the abandoned pen from the desk. 

You shook your head, and even if he didn't see you, he heard your movements, he heard everything after all. This time the affirmation are his words, he grows tired of comments assuming his thoughts from his friends, specially if it involves his love life. 

Collei seemed to be on Cyno's side as well, even though she hadn't experienced any romance related situations (he and Cyno made sure of it, she's too young), she implored him to just confess his supposed feelings towards you. 

Unlike Cyno, he shook her off gently and said that there was no time for that sort of intimacy in his life, and that she should focus more on her studies rather than a fantasy of her own. 

Yet here he was, contradicting his own words, living in between reality and fantasy as he drew holes on the back of your head while you wrote, your long ears flapping with each stroke of the pen against paper, he wondered if your ears were as soft as they looked, or if his were softer (most likely not the case even though he took good care of them, they would never shine like yours, yet again, it's a different type of fur so who knows (he knows)). 

"Bunn- (Y/n)" the nickname that Cyno gave you (and that brought an unshakable ick on his chest) almost slipped up, but he caught himself just in time. "When you finish your papers let me know, I'll be in my office". 

He grabbed a few samples from a cabinet and began to walk away, but you wouldn't let him leave after his slip up. 

"You can call me Bunny, you know" 

His lips morphed into a line. 

"It's a thing between you and Cyno right? I wouldn't want to intervene" 

You cocked your head to the side in confusion, a thing between you and Cyno? 

"You know Sora gave me that nickname, right?" 

His eyes narrowed at that. That's even worse! 

"Never knew you and that man were so close". 

Your frown deepened, Tighnari seemed to have a particular hostility towards Wanderer. Sure, he was a bit rough around the edges, but you knew the hybrid had dealt with worse and always kept his cool...Paimon for example-. So it seemed out of the ordinary for him to be so shaken up by a boy who he hadn't had the chance to talk to properly. 

"What's up with you and Sora? He's not that bad when you get to know him" 

His ears flattened at the top of his head again. 

"I don't want to get to know him, I think I've been around him enough to know he's bad news" 

You stood up from your seat and circled around his body like a hyena, trying to catch his eyes. Tighnari gritted his teeth at the thought of you trying to defend that man so uptight. 

When you didn't speak any further, he felt the need to rant as his gaze locked with yours. 

"I don't know why but-," a tingling feeling coursed through his back, as if electricity was running down his veins. "He's crude and vulgar, and he looks at you like you're a piece of meat, talk about a walking contradiction".  His nails sharpened when he pictured how Wanderer basically undressed you with his eyes, it disgusted him. 

You took some sort of offense by this. "He does not look at me like that," his glare stopped your tracks for some seconds before your eyebrows furrowed. "You talk as if you're jealous". 

He did not even imply something like that, you knew that, but testing his waters was something you didn't have the chance to do so frequently, specially since he seemed to have a never ending patience towards you. It was a bit cruel, but- 

"I am". 

Well, that, you didn't expect. 

It felt like all of the denying and hiding was slipping through the cracks of his pride, trying to hold down the water before the dam collapses and he ends up confessing. But he can't stop the flow of it, it's too much, the water had grown out of proportion through the years of silent pining, denying and glances. He especially can't now, your face is so pretty when it flushes red, and he also can't help his body moving before his mind can. 

Your lips are soft against him, and he almost groans like an animal when your fingers close around his forearms tightly, pawing at the fabric of his hoodie. He's waited years to feel you against him, and he pushes the thought aside that a small discussion of a hat guy could have ended up like this. 

Your back is now pressed against the wall and you can't breathe, not because you were out of air, but everything was so sudden that it made your knees tremble and your lungs contract. 

You fought to close your eyes, you had to see it to believe it after all, but his hands felt heavy on your hips, and his body pressed so deliciously against yours that if you couldn't see it, you could at least feel it. Feel him. Feel his tail wrapping around your lower back as he pushes you flush against the wall and his chest. Feel his palms lowering to your thighs as he pulls you up in the air and around his waist, feel his tongue flatten against yours and his fangs brush your lips. 

The line between reality and fantasy began to blur yet again, his hold tightening on your thighs as his ears brushed yours. You were pliant as giddy under his claws, and it made his body temperature rise. 

Maybe telling Collei to stop gushing over some silly fantasy ended up in the  materializing of said spectrum in the real world, because damn if this was a dream he never wanted to wake up.

[earthstellar]

just thinking about how fucked it is in TFP that June is unaware that Jack escaped the attack on the base for a decent period of time

so like for at least a few days, she is fully fighting off the despair of the very real possibility that her only child has been ground into human paté by an evil space robot warlord who is actively (and thus far, mostly successfully) attempting to violently take over the planet

yeah Fowler is there but I cannot imagine the amount of government shit he was buried under the entire time

she would have to cope those few days (longer than a week? can't rewatch atm to establish any rough timeline) of just thinking "my son was the first human casualty of an impossible war against giant mechanical alien invaders"

if she believed him dead, if her hope slipped for just a moment, the mental gymnastics needed to cope, even if just to assist Fowler the best she could, would be devastating-- the hospital is gone, the town has been evacuated, has anyone else been killed? is it just Jack? what about the other kids?

it would be easy to start thinking down a dark path, and I think Fowler kept June around instead of evacuating her because not only is there no way she would go, but because he realises that she very seriously may have just lost her son. she needs distractions, support, someone at least somewhat familiar, a sense that her input is needed and will be genuinely considered in order to gain any semblance of control over a situation that just took her son away from her. either for now, or forever.

realistically, Fowler is military, and could have forced her to leave. but he didn't. there are pros and cons to that approach, but given the circumstances, it was almost certainly the right call. good guy Fowler!!

Fowler knew Jack. Fowler did his best to keep them safe on base. She doesn't blame him. He might struggle with some guilt himself, though.

There's no blame, really; What can anyone do when giants from the sky descend and touch the Earth with pointed metal claws, raking at the ground and the people on it, like pulling weeds to clear the land for purposes beyond them?

the situation in general may have been so overwhelming, and both June and Fowler are fairly stubborn, that combined with their need for proof before mourning all of the general stress may have been enough of an active focus to keep them going

but there is no way June didn't have a complete fucking breakdown over the possibility of Jack's death at some point during all this

which is why I can sort of accept Jack's dumbass move of trying to call her

given how anxious we see her on screen most of the time when it comes to the kids (and not unreasonably so), and how little we know about the Darby family history, we can assume Jack could easily imagine how distraught his mother might be

that's a lot of emotional stress to place on a teenager who almost got extremely killed not too long ago and is currently on the run

so yes, it was a bad call (literally), but one that is totally understandable. I would expect a teenager with a close and generally positive relationship with their parent to want that parent to know they aren't dead, that there's still hope, that they're ok.

it's easy to shit on Jack for making the call when he did, but realistically, he's a teenager and real serious shit is happening and there are emotions and worry and who knows, the deceptions might get him soon anyway. it's hard to stay hopeful. and his mother is really the only relation he's got, in terms of direct family, that we ever see or hear about.

he had the opportunity to risk a final call before things may have gotten even worse no matter what, regardless of anything, and he took that chance to call his mom.

I can understand that, even if it was a dipshit move given the risks. Not a great idea, but a totally understandable one.

they couldn't play up any of this on screen for obvious reasons, not just time constraints, but because this is heavy shit for a show aimed ostensibly at a majority youth demographic, and it's understandable that they didn't focus too much on the darker aspects of this whole arc

but still, it reminds me a lot of what it's like after a bad hurricane. lots of people who are missing family members, no homes to go back to, lots of confusion and injury with no communication, it sucks. the destruction of Jasper definitely has that vibe.

I'm willing to bet June, at some point, was crying in the shower of some military temporary barracks or even shitty FEMA accomodation (I hate those fucking trailers, I've had to deal with them myself) thinking "my son is dead" over and over in a moment of despair, until walking out and thinking to herself, "he's not dead until we know he's dead" (even if she increasingly struggles to hold on to hope) and putting her clothes back on--

--they might be dirty, and Fowler may have offered some spare uniforms for her to wear from whatever soldier gear they might have had peppered around-- but Jack would recognise her scrubs, so she put them back on no matter how gross they felt

and just doing whatever she could to back up Fowler when dealing with his superiors, anything she could think about or do or focus on

either to find her son, or confirm that he had died

just really grim

anyway my break's over! back to work

[loveemagicpeace]

Neptune, Energy and Isolation☁️🌊🥶

🌊Neptune in 1st house

You like to isolate yourself from other people and take time for yourself. These people are sociable, but at the same time they also need time alone. You usually isolate yourself by doing something related to you. You can also daydream about certain things/people. Other people can pick up a lot of your energy. And that can leave you feeling emotionally drained.

🦋Neptune in 2nd house

You isolate yourself by doing something that is beneficial for you. You can isolate yourself by listening to music, eating your favorite food. Something that you enjoy and makes you forget about your worries, that's what you enjoy the most. Money or material things can take the most energy from you.

🎶Neptune in 3rd house

You prefer to isolate yourself by writing about your feelings. You can also record yourself and talk about how you feel. At school, you can be quite isolated from others. You may feel that people do not understand you. You like to isolate yourself from people in general. Relatives, school and talking can take up most of your energy.

🍬Neptune in 4th house

Your isolation usually includes home. You can often isolate yourself from family and family members. And they can be the ones that take the most energy out of you. You isolate yourself by doing something you feel comfortable doing and something that involves your home. You can spend a lot of time in your room or in a place where you feel you can be alone.

🧜🏼‍♀️Neptune in 5th house

Many times you isolate yourself from being seen in general. You like to have your own peace and to do the things you like to do and enjoy them in peace. So creating is something that involves your isolation. You don't like to show your work to others until it's finished. Romantic affairs can take up a lot of your energy.

🧞‍♂️Neptune in 6th house

Many times you isolate yourself from work and everyday life. You just like to take time for yourself and do something that makes you feel better than it is (self care, yoga, exercise, something that involves health). You also like to spend time with animals, which give you a lot of energy. Work and everyday tasks can take up a lot of your energy.

💙Neptune in 7th house

You like to isolate yourself from the people around you and also from your relationship. Your isolation can often include shopping,beauty things. People, relationships, and decisions can draw a lot of energy from you. Even the relationship you are in can be too much for you sometimes.

💘Neptune in 8th house

Many times you isolate yourself emotionally from other people. The emotions of others, deep things, the death of someone can take up a lot of your energy. Many times you can feel the darkness of other people or the bad sides of others. You prefer to do things that others don't know about. This means that your isolation is always something that others don't know about. You like to remain mysterious.

🧊Neptune in 9th house

Many times you isolate yourself by traveling alone or exploring new things. You get to know new ways and beliefs. You enjoy your positivity and new path. A lot of your energy can be taken up by unimportant things, the feeling of negativity or the feeling that you are stuck in one place. Even traveling can make you tired sometimes.

❄️Neptune in 10th house

You isolate yourself a lot from people in general from crowds of people. Conforming to others, having a good public image and showing off in public can be tough. Various events can exhaust you. Responsibility, reputation and rules can be tough for you. You like to do something that has nothing to do with people, like gardening.

🐬Neptune in 11th house

You isolate yourself a lot from social networks, your friends. Society and friends can pick up a lot of your energy. Being with friends for several days can be difficult and then you always need some time for yourself. Also social media can take a lot of your energy and can emotional drain you. In your isolation, you can do things related to your dreams and goals.

💎Neptune in 12th house

You isolate yourself the most with your spiritual energy, meditation and yoga can help a lot here. Here you isolate yourself by doing something artistic, special and different .You need a break from your past. Past events or the past can make you very tired. The connection with your subconscious and how you feel about yourself and your inner self is important.

-Rebekah🦋🌊

[imthepunchlord]

Don't know if you still write for Miraculous Ladybug, but if you do what are your thoughts on having Adrien die? Not even in an Adrien salt way but in general I think that killing him off could lead to so many interesting paths for a ML fic to go.

It's gradual. Some WIPs I'm trying to figure out how to continue. It's just one of those things to let it stew/come back later.

As for the topic, my gut response is that it feels unnecessarily dark and it feels like angst for Gabriel and/or Marinette, potentially Chloe, Felix, and Nino too. Angst I'm not really interested in writing myself.

I will say, I did have one thought relating to Adrien's death: a reason for Sentidrien's existence.

Idk how a majority feel about the Sentikids, the little I've looked into people seem to just accept it, but I'm not crazy about these rich couples deciding they'd rather have magical feather babies they can fully control than having a kid by any other means that they can easily afford.

So Adrien's death was my answer to this choice of what Adrien was and to try and roll with it better. Adrien Agreste did exist, but died tragically and desperate, grief stricken Emilie just couldn't bear the loss and used the broken Peafowl to recreate her "perfect son".

Emilie got sick, Gabriel doesn't know how to feel about this "Adrien" who looks like his son but isn't and is the cause of Emilie's state. Meanwhile "Adrien" is being the perfect son he was made to be, is confused and hurt by his father's coldness, finds he has fragmented memories of his life and the people he supposedly has known his whole life.

And as I'm not sure a Miraculous should have a power to make actual life (especially as they can snuff it out with a snap of their fingers), I'd say "Adrien" becomes a real boy by being near the two most powerful Miraculous. Cat gradually destroys his connection to his item, and thanks to the Ladybug, it creates something new to replace it.

And it leads to a whole thing of "Adrien" starting to rebel against Gabriel, becoming alive vs the complacent doll he used to be. And "Adrien" learns he's not the true Adrien, that he's a clone made out of grief and love, and has to deal with the reality that he's a fabrication, but he's not like other Sentis either, and wonder if he's truly Adrien or does he like who Adrien used to be, does he even want to be Adrien? And you got Gabriel getting more aggravated as wtf is going on with this doll?

Part of me even thought of him deciding to rename himself Felix to establish a separation better.

But that'd be my answer for what if Adrien did die, it'd be my way to roll with Sentidrien's existence and how I would've made it work.

[muffant]

I got an adorable idea!

What if the animatronics in security breach played D&D! Now I'm not talking about the characters inside a fantasy realm I'm thinking what if a person left a players hand book at the pizza Plex and the gang devoured that shit up!

Id like to think Freddy would be a support roll, more the type to help the party indirectly. He feels like the most inclined to spell casting. Id put him as the type to do Wizard, Cleric, Paladin, or even Druid! Id say hed likely stick to the races in the players hand book, probably a human main. He's very into playing a character, even if that character is the same sweet person each time.

Chica is your major roleplay player, she would be all about getting into the mind of her character and really selling it. She plays any race, and class, and often is the one to pick her class race combo last so she has something to go off of, as a challenge. When she does choose you know my girl is Bard all the way. She's also the only one to actually read the history of the races and really get into the D&d lore.

Roxy likes playing a modified monk, (in fact as a over all rule they play with a lot of table rules!) or a rogue, she usually doesnt pick any other class, as well as loving being an elf. She's a little less on the roleplay side (but can't help but bounce off of the others when needed) she's more of a combat centric player. She loves winning encounters, loving puzzles, anything. She's likely to be the one min maxing her character. Which has lead to some fun experiences when Chica asks about how she became a Cleric, Paladin, Druid multi class.

Monty is exclusively a fighter dragonborn. He loves being allowed to smash shit up and have no *real* repercussions. However he's not actually combat driven, he's a roleplay player similar to Chica, only he expresses he can make 101 characters with out needing to change the mechanics of said character. It's scary how calm Monty can be when he's in the role. (Said calmness started to carry over to work life too!) That doesn't stop a burst or two which thankfully only results in a pouty gator. Monty loves exploring the worlds, it's his favourite thing. To picture landscapes and worlds completely different from his own. And then be able to interact with those worlds.

Sun and Moon are the DMs! Sun is a story focused DM, he loves crafting a narrative, playing NPCs, and developing the world's of his story. He's the one usually in the spot light for a majority of the time. The rest of the time is Moon. Moon is a challenge focus dm. He loves crafting riddles, puzzles, combats, and difficult choices at the party. When ever it's moons turn to take over the table all the lights go out and dark red ambient lighting fills the room. Moons challenges are to be feared as Moon takes death in the game as a real and possible thing. While Sun tries to avoid it happening all together. Funnily enough Moon doesn't like improf, he has his encounters planned almost to the T, including alternative paths the party takes, INCLUDING DEATH OUTCOMES. He is meticulous. Sun on the other hand has a half ass idea of what the session will be about related to the over arching story, have a few bullet points of required information, a few bullet points of optional information and just goes from there. He has a party who eagerly love to make their own decisions and discuss where to go and what to do.

I like to imagine that while one is running the work for the day, the other is planning out their portion of the session, always able to communicate and keep track of details together. While Sun is playing Moon is taking notes, more for himself really.

They play once a week on Sundays, seeing as that's their only day off. They play 6 hour sessions usually and go on many tangents. But they enjoy playing so much, after all its the closest thing they get to freedom.

Edit: I FORGOT DJ!!! Of course he would be allowed to play!! And the little DJ dudes too idk what their called. DJ seems like the kind of player to sit back and watch everything happen, communication is a bit hard but he's still included. I think he would play a bard (very classic) just so he could have an excuse to play sound boards during the game. Speaking of which they definitely play games in the west arcade, with DJ helping set the ambience with music and sound effects. I like to think he secretly downloaded files like leaves russling to add to it. DJ likes to work on theme songs for each character. He simply enjoys being included even if it's limited.

[ro-botany]

On the Characteristics of the Risen, and the Character of their King

The Risen King... Finally, a concept which once only existed in whispers and a single cipher 0 card, has made it into a Fire Emblem video game! Just the mobile game, sure, but it counts. And the Fell Exalt Chrom unit is so fascinating to me that I have not only this, but at least two other meta posts in the pipeline about it. I am so normal about him.

To kick things off... let’s talk about exactly what Risen King Chrom is, and also how he’s doing mentally. (Badly. He’s doing very badly.)

---

Real quick, we have to get one snag out of the way: the mechanism by which a Risen is made.

Shadows of Valentia introduced us to a prototypical version of the Risen created by Forneus, known as Death Masks. They’re made by fitting a dead body with a mask containing insects known as thanatophages. The thanatophages prevent the body’s decay and assert physical control over them in a manner not unlike certain real world parasites that control the muscular movements of their hosts.

I’ve seen a handful of my colleagues (lol) assume there are modern Risen made the same way. BUT. The Risen which exist during the events of Awakening are explicitly NOT Death Masks. During the xenologue Death’s Embrace, Brady states that “In the future, our wounded often turned to Risen just as we were tryin' to heal 'em.” This has to mean that Grima is transforming the dead and dying remotely, using some kind of magic; and at the height of their power, they may be either passively creating or deliberately casting an area of effect that turns dead bodies automatically. There’s nothing to suggest any Risen are manually created with thanatophages, or that Grima is manifesting thanatophages for that purpose.

Alas, we cannot do insect body horror with RK Chrom while also staying true to canon. But moving on...

---

Fell Chrom is, to make an understatement, very unique among the Risen. And to discuss why he’s unique, we first have to define what’s typical.

Behaviourally, typical Risen don’t appear to have sentience outside of their competency in wielding weapons and their tendency to form loose hierarchies based on individual strength. They’re incredibly aggressive by nature; it’s like their only innate drive is to fight and kill humans. Most of them are not capable of speech, though the stronger Risen Chiefs can grind out single words or even short phrases, which are usually just related to wanting to kill things. When being actively controlled through dark magic, they appear capable of basic tactics, though whether that comes from them or the person controlling them is unclear.

There’s no doubt that Fell Chrom is a Risen. He’s certainly got the appearance, the purple miasma, and the vocal distortion for it. Not to mention the giant glowing fatal wound in his side. Man certainly isn't alive.

He’s evidently still subject to control via dark magic too, if the fact that he was forced to war against his own country is anything to go by.

Fell Chrom also has the strong aggressive drive typical of Risen. Nearly all of his dialogue in battle situations suggests this. In order of increasing intensity: There’s the turn action quote “Find me an enemy”, which depending on your mood can read as either resignation or as chomping at the bit. There’s hostile level up quotes like “You shall count yourself...among the dead” and “You would...block my path”. His special trigger quotes are yet worse. He yells “This is your fate”, “No resistance”, and “Useless effort” with a fury you don’t expect from Chrom—and for the fourth one, he just shouts “DEATH”. And his voice clips for attacking aren’t words or even anywhere in the realm of a regular human noise, they're just distorted, monstrous growling.

But unlike with typical Risen, aggression is not all RK Chrom is. He can walk around the Askran castle and be around others without constantly trying to attack people. And in fact, he’s aware of and bothered by how violent being Risen makes him. One of his status page quotes is begging someone to “back away!” in a panic, as though he’s afraid of hurting them. It’s possible the violent instincts Risen have mainly only come into play for him in battle situations, or possibly when he’s in a state of heightened emotion.

And while RK Chrom displays the kind of difficulty with speech you would expect of a Risen, with his slow halting pace and gravelly tone, he speaks in complete, coherent sentences and displays remarkable clarity about who he is and what’s happening around him. He’s no husk. Chrom's mind is intact.

That is massive. That is completely unique among Risen, and deeply, deeply horrifying. Because even though he can think, he is by no means in control.

---

If the Forging Bonds supports are anything to go by, Chrom did try to resist Grima, at least in the beginning. From C through to A he moves from disbelief to outright despair at the very prospect of warring against Ylisse. But by the S support—which necessarily takes place years after the others due to how far Grima’s campaign has progressed—he’s given up. So much of his dialogue is mourning the past, or repeating Grima's belief that everyone is doomed and nothing can change. He’s not fighting it anymore. He's resigned to his fate as Grima’s executioner.

And why wouldn’t he be? After the initial confusion from being resurrected passed, he was lucid. He was fully mentally present when he was murdering his allies and slaughtering his own people. And between the deep, fundamental drive to kill and the direct influence of Grima on his actions... There wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop himself. He couldn’t protect a thing.

Even now that he’s free of Grima’s influence in Askr, he doesn’t exactly do anything to avoid being an instrument of violence. Otherwise he wouldn’t be a playable unit. Everyone he’s ever cared about is dead, and he’s been nothing more than a monster and an instrument of violence for years. Why not fight. It’s the only thing he has left.

This Chrom is a deeply broken man. Angry and utterly hopeless. It’s no wonder after all he’s been through.

And yet... there’s still a spark there. For all his rigid insistence that Grima’s bleak outlook is the truth, his ally growth quote speaks volumes: “If this power were mine...back then...”

If fate is so immutable and hope is so pointless, why deal in what-ifs? Why wonder about what could have changed? And he’s still trying to protect people he cares about from himself; why else would he yell for others to “back away” when he feels he might attack them?

Through all the years of horror and the terrible curse of undeath... he’s still Chrom.