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dotieeee · 2 months

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The Gamemaker's Apprentice

Level 9

Pairing: Dark!Young!Coriolanus Snow x You, named!Reader

Overall Warnings:

NON-CON, DUB-CON, Dark!Young!Coriolanus Snow, Snow himself should be a warning, lots of blackmailing, gaslighting, manipulation, obsession, possesiveness, eventual forced marriage, eventual loss of virginity, breeding kink, canon-compliant major character death, reader is named but has no physical descriptions in the fic so one might also consider her an OC but in 2nd POV, will have canon inconsistencies, drugging, somnophilia, and other stuff that may be added

Masterlist

Level 9 Warnings:

Graphic violence, torture and experiments conducted on children (because it isn't Hunger Games without it lol), jealous Snow if you squint

Replay Level 8

Ready? Level 9 Start:

The tyres screech when your Uncle Cas hits the brakes. You’re still several blocks away from your apartment building and you’ve just reached a red light, although, with your uncle’s questionable driving skills, you’re not quite sure you’d both make it home intact.

“Uncle Cas? I’m pretty sure we hit someone back there and they’re still twitching.”

Thankfully, your attempt at lightening the mood isn’t in vain. Your uncle chortles behind the wheel.

“Really? I thought I did a decent job running them over.”

A pause ensues in the car before your uncle glances sideways at you. “Nellie, are you okay?”

You could only nod, bracing yourself as the red light turns green and your uncle steps on the gas pedal like a madman.

“What’s on your mind?” He presses.

“Nothing much,” you reply in a mock-nonchalant tone. “Just crossing my fingers we don’t actually hit anything.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” he deadpans. “Enough wisecracks about my driving. What’s going on? I mean, I know it’s always about that bastard you call your ‘mentor,’ but is there anything you’d like to tell your dear old uncle?”

You release a drawn-out sigh. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin, Uncle Cas.”

He nods in understanding. “Okay. You can tell me once we get home.”

You pull up to the Corso III in a matter of minutes, and you step out of the car hoping you’d never have to endure being in a ride with Acacius Innis driving. Your uncle playfully throws the keys to his dumbfounded driver, who’s waiting by the building entrance.

“I didn’t know you could drive, sir,” he says with a confused expression when he catches the keys.

“I’m just as surprised as you are, Gustav!” Your uncle says brightly, much to Gustav’s bewilderment.

Once you get inside the apartment, your uncle makes tea, which you politely decline, and sits you down on the kitchen counter. He only says one word after a single sip on his mug:

“Talk.”

“I want to quit,” is the first thing you blurt out.

“I didn’t know that was an option,” your uncle says.

You shake your head miserably. “No, it isn’t. But I can’t let them have that program. It’s yours. They shouldn’t be allowed to do whatever the fuck they want with it.”

You let out a deep exhale but a few tears of frustration come along with it.

Your uncle offers no words and just continues sipping his tea in contemplation. Maybe, just like you, he’s also run out of ideas. Maybe there really is no escape from any of this, and you’re better off just letting Snow have his way with your uncle’s work.

Perhaps your uncle punching him was the only way any of you could ever get back at him.

“Did any shipments come in when I left the office?”

You frown at his question. “Yes, a few boxes of drives arrived.”

Why is he asking this out of the blue, you wonder?

Uncle Cas hums as he takes another sip. “Huh. That’s... peculiar . Peculiar, indeed.”

“It is?” you ask, now getting mildly annoyed. You’re about to surrender his most important work to the most dangerous child-killing woman in Panem and her younger, potentially more tyrannical male version and he’s worried about packages arriving that he didn’t order? “You mean, you didn’t send for them?”

Seemingly oblivious to your dilemma, he maintains this abnormally carefree attitude. “I guess it doesn’t matter now who did. Have you done a malware scan on them?”

You sigh and decide to humour him. Who knows, maybe this is his copium. “What for? They’re blanks. And shouldn’t your staff be doing that?”

Uncle Cas lets out a derisive laugh. “Not my department anymore, plumcake.”

“But within your scope!” Growing more and more confused, you argue, even though you don’t know what for anymore.

He just snorts. “Yeah, because we have all the time in the world to check blank hard drives and not at all busy running the entire government’s military cyber defence system and keeping it safe from rebel cyberattacks. What do I know?”

He makes himself another cup of tea, and, joining you back on the kitchen counter, he asks, “What else did the drives come with?”

You shrug. “A single floppy disk?”

And once again, he just lets out another contemplative hum. You narrow your eyes at him, your confusion slowly being replaced by suspicion. He knows something you don’t.

He always does.

“Check the drives. I’d start with the floppy disk if it were me,” he says airily. “You know, your aunt Marcelline and I separated just shortly before I became your guardian. Even after I moved to the Capitol, I used to really want to get under her skin.”

Knowing your uncle by now, this is his way of trying to make a point, so you go along with him.

“True, I was mad at her at first for leaving me, but after a while, it just became banter. Nothing more than a practical joke,” he chuckles. “I started creating viruses and sending them to her. The first one I sent was in this drive I claimed to be defective, and she checked it out herself. Big mistake. It wiped half the source code all our factories ran on.”

“What?” you ask incredulously. But your uncle is laughing heartily, and imagining your aunt fuming mad at his prank makes you laugh with him. The Aunt Marcelline you know is rarely ever fazed.

“Oh, she was flying off the handle. Operations went on a standstill for half a day until they installed the backups. She then video-called me just to tell me I was a ‘fucking nutcase.’ Next thing I know, every single personal shipment I requested came with this harmless little worm that entered in my name spelt ‘Ac-ASS-cius’ for every fourteenth line of code I type,” he pauses as he wipes the tears of laughter from his eyes. “That shit went on for months, I tell you.”

Your Uncle Cas empties his mug with a single swig and asks you, “Are you getting a lesson somewhere here?”

In between bouts of light chortling, you admit, “No, not really...”

He gives you a look between exasperation and amusement. “Just check the floppy disk. I built a virtual machine environment on the station you’re using, so test it within that environment. You may never know what that contains. Who knows, maybe it’s a virus harmful enough to render most of your code completely unusable.”

Your laughter dies down at once as his point dawns on you.

Is this him giving you permission to kill his brainchild? The head of Cybersecurity, hinting at infecting Citadel property?

Was Acacius Innis the one who sent you that disk?

Now, your curiosity is even more piqued.

“Why would any creator nuke their own work?” you ask carefully.

Your Uncle Cas just gives you an unconcerned look. “Maybe to them, it’s just that: work . Just a simple set of codes they can easily write again. Sure, they were probably attached to it at first, as all creators are, but maybe down the line, they realised how their work could impact others negatively and decided it wasn’t worth the effort. It happens all the time.”

He gets up from his seat and sighs. “That’s it: enough riddle talk.”

He deposits his empty mug on the sink and leans against it with his arms crossed. He declares with mocking authority, “Check the floppy disk. This is an official mandate from the head of Cybersecurity. Noncompliance could result in the issuance of an interdepartmental memo.”

Ah yes. That little piece of paper – essentially an airing of a list of grievances from one department to another disguised pretentiously in the form of corporate claptrap. Just more red tape your mentor would gladly put on top of your growing pile of paperwork.

“Oh no, a memo, so scary,” you joke back with an eye roll.

“You bet it is. Now go to bed. This is now your uncle speaking, by the way.”

Now filled with renewed hope, you nod. Your uncle had once again carved a way out for you. If you can pull plant the virus in one of the supercomputers without drawing suspicion, you can destroy a huge chunk of the code, rendering the program useless, thereby making you appear inadequate for the job in the eyes of the Citadel, and most of all, your mentor. You can turn in your resignation and work for your uncle, just like before, while staying away forever from Coriolanus Snow.

Sounds like a plan.

You get up from your chair and hug your dear old Uncle Cas around his midriff.

“Uncle? Thank you. I’m sorry.” For destroying your work in the near future. “For everything.”

He ruffles your hair, grinning at you affectionately when you let go.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, plumcake.”

“You shouldn’t have punched him, you know,” you say as an afterthought.

“Really? It felt great. Nine out of ten will do it again. Now for the umpteenth time, plumcake, go to bed.”

You bid him goodnight and saunter to your room to shed your work clothes in favour of something more comfortable. You’re a bit miffed your stockings are now ruined owing to the gash on the right leg, so you peel them off to throw them away. Strangely enough, you also obtained this nasty purplish little bruise, even if you don’t really remember hitting something when you fell. Sighing to yourself, you resolve to be more careful around the folks at the Citadel and mostly, around him.

You take the little vial that he gave you out of your coat pocket, debating whether you’re going to try it or not.

You fell asleep without help a while ago, right?

You decide to stow it on your nightstand just in case. It turns out that after an hour or two of just tossing and turning in bed without the mercy of unconsciousness, placing it nearby was an excellent decision. You take a tiny sip directly from the bottle and let it do its work.

True to its promise, you wake up in the late morning hours of a free Thursday without ever being woken up by your uncle in the middle of a nightmare.

I guess there are things even he can’t lie about, you conclude.

Friday. The day you’re dreading has finally come to a close, and you begin it by getting to your office at ten past six in the morning when even the Peacekeepers on night shift have cups of coffee in their hands to try and power through the last hour of their shift. You make no detours and head straight to your office, remaining vigilant in case any of your team decide to come in early as well.

Under no circumstance must you ever, ever be caught with a potential malware powerful enough to destroy one of the Citadel’s best assets.

So, turning on the virtual machine environment, you insert the disk and let your uncle’s system do its magic.

You almost choke on your second cup of coffee as your computer alerts you of its findings.

In the disk are two harmless-looking folders that are designed to run in the background – one, a little virus that replicates tasks at lightning-fast speeds. Essentially harmless on its own, the most it can do is overload the chips, leading to overheating, and eventually alerting the antimalware which would shut down the system to prevent further hardware damage. But by the time of the shutdown and an unsuspecting user is drawn to trying to fix what looks like a hardware issue, the second more devastating virus in the disk would have already wormed its way around the cybersecurity measures and into the other computers, attacking any and all files it can latch onto. By the time the antimalware would have been alerted of its presence and taken the other computers offline, the virus would have dealt with significant corruption in the program’s source code and its backups. All it takes for a user to unknowingly activate both is a simple set of keyboard commands.

It’s an astonishing work of art in the form of malicious code crafted by none other than the genius that is Acacius Innis.

A beep at the door, followed by two others, indicates the arrival of the triplets, so you immediately eject the disk and shut down the virtual environment machine. You manage to hide the disk in your drawer just as they greet you ‘good morning’ in unison, which you return with just as much enthusiasm. They all seem to look forward to seeing what they have been labouring for come to fruition, with F1 and F3 more so, with their lighthearted chatter filling the room while a more reserved F2 prints out the list of test cases for the trial.

You follow the triplets to the testing room by eight for final preparations for the start of the official grey-box tests. Every minute that passes, your stomach sinks further in dread, thinking of the three district teens who are going to be subject to bouts of experimentation that could potentially kill them, plus the added bonus of being in possession of something only a Capitol rebel would have at hand.

The arrival of your mentor thirty minutes before the briefing just amplifies your anxiety.

Coriolanus Snow, with his dapper suit and his combed-back locks, greets you in his normal fashion like your uncle did not attempt to pummel his face right in front of his own apartment building the other night.

“How are you?” you ask him softly as you approach. You feel a bit guilty about what your Uncle Cas did – after all, he was only trying to help. “How’s your…lip?”

His smile just widens further while he observes your face. “Relax, it was nothing I couldn’t handle. You were worried about me,” he concludes.

You don’t miss the way his eyes twinkle when you nod. “I’m really sorry.”

He dips his head closer to your space and responds, “You have nothing to apologise for, my sugarplum. Your concern, however, warms my heart.”

You say nothing and merely flash him a quick smile, intending to walk off to continue your work, but his hold on your arm keeps you close.

“I could ask the same of you. The Games upset you, I can see that,” he says, as he takes your chin between his fingers to keep you from facing away. “But this is merely a test, so one is going to die. It’ll only last a day. And you’ve seen it yourself – these children are being paid for these tests. They know what they signed up for.”

You know Coriolanus’s words are meant to reassure you, but it’s hard not to feel pressure when you know your freedom from him depends on how successful you’ll be in planting the virus.

Just a few more hours of this.

The thought should be enough for you to power through the day, so you nod and say, “I’ll be fine, Coryo. Thank you.”

“Good.” Your mentor flashes you a look of approval as he releases your chin and your arm, his hand travelling down to clasp your hand. “I made reservations at The White Knight for dinner tonight at eight. Let’s hope we finish this by then because I have an important matter to discuss with you.”

Oh no. “What is it?” What could it be that it needs to wait until tonight? “W-we…we have time, now…” you trail off.

The last time you had a conversation with him about ‘important matters,’ you ended up getting blackmailed to work for him. So naturally, you aren’t too keen on giving him another chance to potentially corner you into a vulnerable position.

Coriolanus just crinkles his eyes and lets out a mix of a sigh and a chuckle, his grip on your hand shifting so he can lace your fingers between his. “As much as I find your enthusiasm endearing, sugarplum, you’re distracted at the present. I’d like to have your full attention when we broach this matter.”

You’re a few seconds shy of just pulling your hand away, but thankfully a clearing of someone’s throat behind you makes him release his hold first.

“Sorry to interrupt this little office romance, kids, but we got about fifteen minutes before the boss lady gets here,” F1 says, trying to hold back a smirk.

Laughing lightly, Coriolanus flicks his gaze to yours knowingly before sauntering over to the male computer engineers huddled over the main command console. You move away from the group for the sake of productivity to help F2 check the other consoles.

By the time the Head Gamemaker makes her entrance, you’re all awaiting her arrival in a semi-circle, and you exchange polite morning greetings before F1 and F2 take the reigns and signal the start of the grey-box tests.

“Using highly advanced technological randomisation, we shall begin with assigning you a test tribute,” F1 declares.

F2 takes out a small glass bowl containing three rolled-up pieces of paper, smirking slightly as she shakes it, much to everyone’s amusement. She hands it out, and together, you, F3 and Coriolanus unfurl the tiny roll.

Test Tribute 2

“I got Tansey,” you say.

F3 hums curiously as he gazes at his piece of paper before he puts it back in the bowl.

“Test Tribute 3. I get the feral girl,” he says simply.

Coriolanus puts his back, looking satisfied with getting Callahan. He, too, confirms his tribute and adds, lifting a corner of his mouth, “I’ve worked with worse odds than this before.”

F3 nods in agreement. “Yes, that kid’s never given us trouble.”

F1 leads the three of you outside the testing room and you follow him about two doors down into another room where the three test tributes await. The room is overwhelmingly grey and sparse of furniture, save the tables and chairs, all bolted to the floor, where the three of the teenagers are chained to by their hands and feet.

Callahan’s face instantly lights up when he sees you and even manages a small wave despite his shackles. You give him a tiny wave back.

“You’re given ten minutes to talk to them, give them instructions, and...whatever else you feel like,” says F1. Bringing out a pocket timer, he then hangs back at the corner while you each take your place at the empty seat before your test tributes. Coriolanus proceeds to the far left corner of the room where his tribute is, immediately motioning Callahan to come closer and whispering something you can’t hear over his ear. The boy blanches and mutters sorry as he stares at the table with a shaken expression. Audrey, to your far right, refuses point-blank to engage after F3’s multiple attempts to call her name as she fixates on her chains. F3 sighs in defeat, crossing his arms and leaning against his chair to observe her. You smile warmly at Tansey, which she returns shyly.

“Hello, Tansey,” you greet her.

“Hi,” she manages.

Wordlessly, you place three large pieces of strawberry-flavoured candy – the only sweets you’re able to bring with you, unfortunately – on the table and push it towards her. Her eyes widen as she looks at the candy and then at you, as if asking if it really is for her. You urge her to take it with a nod.

Tansey’s smile brightens significantly as she peels off the wrapper on one.

“Thank you,” she mumbles. “I...I don’t remember the last time I had one of these. They really smell like the strawberries we pick.”

“You’re welcome. If I knew we’d be meeting like this, I could’ve brought blackberry-flavoured ones.”

You try not to feel sorry for her because you’re aware that doesn’t help her, and the only thing that will is ensuring that she gets to live at the end of this trial. Coriolanus’s promise of keeping everyone alive is fanciful at best, knowing that the game environment itself could be lethal.

“Keep the rest for later,” you advise, placing the candy in her palms. “I don’t know what time I’ll be able to send you food. Have you been given breakfast?”

She nods, and you note how she seems a little more chipper. “They gave us two pieces of bread instead of one. Even smeared a bit of butter on them.”

You’re glad to hear they at least were given more food, but you wonder whether this is because the team thinks this might be their last.

“And some tea, too. No sugar, but it was good. My aunt likes it that way.” Then she adds, “I miss her. She gets sick sometimes.”

“Why did you enlist, Tansey?” you ask softly.

Tansey seems to hesitate before answering, “I had to.” She licks her lips, and continues, “Once I get the money, I’d buy her a better wheelchair and she can start taking care of chickens so we could sell them in the market.”

So much responsibility assumed so willingly at such a young age. Sejanus would’ve hated the thought of Tansey doing so much for so little. He would’ve helped her however he could.

Now more determined to make sure Tansey gets home safely back to her aunt and lives a better life, you begin instructing her on what she’s about to face.

Tansey listens aptly to every detail, but the further you go on, the more the fear behind her eyes grows. Guilt for what you’re about to make her face gnaws at you the entire time, seeing as you’re partly to blame for creating the system that could fatally injure her later in the day.

F1 calls out the last remaining minute.

“Tansey, please be careful down there, okay?” you say. You hold both her hands clasped with the shackles.

“Thank you. I wish everyone here was as nice as you,” she says in her usual faint tone. “If I make it, do you think I’ll be allowed to say goodbye to you at least before I go back home?”

“Ten minutes is up!”

With a sorrowful smile, you respond to her, “I don’t know. Good luck, Tansey.”

“Mentors, please follow me back to the testing room. The tributes will be escorted to the test arena during your final briefing,” F1 says as he gestures to the door where you came in.

You spare Tansey a final glance just as Coriolanus catches up to you and ushers you to the door by the shoulder. Once you're back in the testing room, you assume your mentor station which has a stapled file labelled ‘test cases’ sitting just under the keyboard. You also note Dr Gaul’s glaring absence from the room. Perhaps, she’s grown bored of waiting? It can’t be, the woman thrives on watching children suffer; she would not pass on this opportunity.

F2 clears her throat and begins the final briefing as the monitors fitted on the wall turn on, displaying the Hunger Games screensaver.

“The tributes should be escorted by now to the test arena and are awaiting the start of the Games, which will be signalled via a siren. As test mentors, you’re given the additional task of checking inconsistencies and errors not only with the gamemaker console and its software but also with the software installed on your stations. Your checklist of test cases should be on your stations, as well.”

You pore through the ten-page document with an inaudible sigh. F2 had been thorough with the test cases and made sure not to miss a single, important detail.

“Each tribute has been allocated sponsorship money to use for testing, which you can choose to send out at any time,” she continues. “Dr Gaul, who will be observing the entire test –” she waves lightly behind you where the Head Gamemaker is, inside the glass observation deck, grinning down at everyone with her arms crossed – “Will grant additional sponsorship money to any tribute whenever she pleases to test the sponsor console, which I will run. In the event of a test winner, a siren will go off, indicating the end of the Games. The Peacekeepers will unlock the basement and escort the mock tributes out for medical attention.”

F1 adds, “While they do so, we initiate the final steps of the game, and that is saving the footage and the data we gathered and uploading it on the database for the other gamemakers to analyse. Saving and uploading can take a bit of time, by the way, because of the massive amount of data the program will gather,” he pauses, adding lightheartedly, “In short, we’ll be here a while, ladies and gents.”

Turning to you, F2 asks, “Will you do the honours, Nellie?” she gestures at the main command console with a flair.

You saunter over to the console while you will your hands to stop shaking. On the keyboard, you initiate the Begin Game command, and the program wizard starts.

Here we go.

The program finishes detecting cameras and microphones installed in the arena, along with the programmed environmental elements. You simply enter Continue. It goes on detecting vitals trackers and flashes:

3 Out of 24 players detected.

Press Enter to Continue.

Press ⬅️to cancel.

Once you hit Enter, your screen begins another progress bar as the big screen on the wall flashes the list of tributes for the very first time. The smaller screens simultaneously begin to display the different camera angles across the test arena. In no less than a fraction of a second, the current tribute odds appear according to the motion-tracking algorithm:

Audrey at 46%, Callahan at 38%, and Tansey the lowest at 16%.

You peer at the gamemaker console, which shows the three tributes’ vitals on one screen and the odds on another, and on your station, where only Tansey’s appears. Elevated heart rate and a slightly higher-than-normal blood pressure brought about the increase in cortisol levels – Tansey is understandably nervous.

You watch as they’re escorted by three peacekeepers to an open clearing in the middle of the old equipment, where three small bags are placed containing what you think are weapons. Their hands are still bound together by chains, so they all stand awkwardly a few feet away from each other as if they’re unsure what to do.

It’s a painful wait for the system to give the go signal, as it’s timed to start at the next exact hour. Once the clock strikes ten, the siren sounds in the makeshift arena, and the trial Hunger Games begins.

Everyone in the room seems to hold their breath as they all stare at the big screen, watching as the shackles that bind their hands simply fall off and land on the tiled floor beneath them with a clang. It takes a few moments for it to sink in, but Audrey gets there first – she runs straight to the centre and grabs a bag before scampering off to hide among a row of control panels located at the farthest eastern part of the basement. Tansey and Callahan share a look and they wordlessly divvy up the remaining bags between themselves before striking up a conversation.

Or in this case, it’s Callahan talking Tansey’s ear off as they explore the grounds together.

“This is a great time to check camera software,” you say as you peer through the gamemaker console F2 is navigating. You check your list of test cases for the camera while F1 and F2 shift between several cameras on the big screen.

“My stats are increasing, the algorithm is picking up movement from Test Tribute 3,” F3 observes after a while and then points at one of the smaller screens. “Check camera nineteen.”

At his prompt, the view on camera nineteen is flashed on the big screen – it shows Audrey holding up a dagger and swishing it in the air. She may not look entirely adept at it, but her temperament alone makes her dangerous in the test arena.

F2 moves on to the rest, finally landing on the view of the last one where Callahan and Tansey are visible. Located opposite Audrey’s chosen hideout, Callahan is hunched over a decades-old computer set with a knife in hand, presumably intending to take it apart, while Tansey just looks on curiously as she sits on the floor where the contents of their bags are spread. They seem to be in the middle of a friendly exchange judging by the way their mouths are moving on occasion, but the microphones aren’t quite picking the conversation up. You take to the vacant gamemaker console and put on the headphones to hear the sound better. There seems to be a hint of audio, so you amp the volume just in time to catch what Callahan is saying.

“ – what he said to me when he first came up? He said,‘You look her in the eyes again, and I’ll gouge yours out with my bare hands.’”

Callahan sighs in resignation, adding under his breath, “Jerk.”

Is he talking about Coriolanus Snow?

Tansey scrunches her brows. “Really? He’s her boyfriend?” She asks. “But she’s nice. She gave me candy and everything.”

“Yeah, she’s nice; he ain’t. Dunno how she can stand him, honest.”

We’re not together, dammit.

A touch on your forearm nearly startles you. It’s F2, saying she found low volume on a few of the microphones as well. Overall, you and the others spend about two hours troubleshooting the audio settings and testing changes on the camera angles, finding no other minor problems.

The lunch hour rolls without event, which in this case is an immense relief for you and the test tributes. No bloodshed (yet?). You ask F1 if you could go first with testing the drone software as an excuse to send Tansey some food.

“Nah, they can wait,” he shrugs.

Apparently, catered food courtesy of The White Knight was brought in while you were busy with the tests. A tad too extravagant even for six people, the long table that was brought in was filled with pasta dishes, meatball platters and pastries, and they also supplied fresh juice and coffee for drinks. It’s almost laughable how they choose this exact moment to host this fare when you have three underfed teens locked in the basement and nothing but bread and water to feed them.

You make no move to get food, going back to your place behind the mentor console, but a cup of coffee and a croissant sandwich is placed on your peripheral. Coriolanus has taken it upon himself to ensure you partake. You whisper your thanks with a small smile and eat mechanically. Thankfully, the food seems to lighten everyone else’s mood, and F1 gives you permission to test the drones at five minutes past one.

On your console, you add a bottle of water and two slices of bread to a drone. Tansey’s odds are predicted to increase by about three per cent on the preview.

“Odds preview working just as intended,” you say as you cross it out of the checklist.

F3 peeks into your screen as he bites into a cream puff. “That’s it? Three per cent? If this was the actual Games, this kid would be done for.”

You could’ve defended her, but you decide against it – Tansey might have little chance of making it out of this alive if she’s ever reaped. You hit enter on the keyboard and let the system send the drone her package.

Everyone’s eyes are glued to the big screen as the drone flies over the rows of gigantic electronic waste, carrying a grey drawstring pouch, and hardly emitting any noise now with its recent enhancements. It reaches Tansey at a surprising speed and drops the pouch off gently on the ground about three feet shy of where she’s sitting before flying off back to its base. Tansey just looks at the bag with a flabbergasted expression and Callahan has to throw a couple of keyboard caps at her to nudge her into taking it.

“Before that other girl steals it,” he adds.

Tansey’s eyes turn to saucers at the mere mention of Audrey. She then sprints and snatches the bag so quickly before taking it with her back to her previous spot. This move of hers adds four per cent to her odds. Her face lights up at what she sees inside, takes a slice of bread out and holds it out to Callahan. The boy seems reluctant to accept the offer.

“Shouldn’t you be savin’ that for later?” He asks.

She shakes her head and replies, “There’s one more in the bag.”

Smiling warmly, Callahan scoots over to her side on the floor and accepts the piece of bread. He whispers his thanks and they eat together in companionable silence.

You and Coriolanus point out that the vital signs chip software is working perfectly.

The teens continue finishing the humble meal, then take little sips of the water from her bottle. Having nothing else to do, they gather their loot and decide to explore more of the basement together. They reach the area where the artificial rain drenched from the previous test, where large puddles of water still littered about. A couple of hours into their uneventful exploration, Audrey gets to her feet from her corner at the far end of the basement and begins a trek among the labyrinthine pathways littered with massive junk.

F3 hums as he stares intently into his screen, observing, “She’s on the move. I think she’s looking for food. According to her hormones, she’s hungry.”

Audrey eventually gets close to where Callhan and Tansey are, but she ducks behind a rusty file cabinet the moment she hears their voices.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice your mentor typing something on his station, on the big screen everyone sees a drone making its way to his tribute. The bag is dropped on top of a dusty table just within meters from the file cabinet where Audrey is hiding. Callahan falls behind Tansey and tells her he’ll catch up to her in a bit to retrieve the package. His hands are but a few inches from the pouch, but Audrey springs from behind the cabinet and tackles Callahan to the floor with her entire weight, pushing him out of the way and knocking the wind out of him.

F3, grimacing, lets out a tiny ‘oof.’ Coriolanus’s face is as impassive as ever, but you can sense the mirth behind his eyes watching the entire scene unfold.

Cursing under his breath, Callahan looks around, more confused than hurt, and it takes a few seconds for him to spot Audrey running on her heels with the bag in tow.

“Hey, what in the livin’ fuck?!” He shouts after her.

Tansey had heard the commotion and had rushed back to where her friend was. She helps him get to his feet as Callahan mutters what sounds like ‘crazy-ass bitch’ to himself. He calls out to the direction where Audrey ran off to, “Whatever happened to askin’ nicely?”

In the testing room, F3 breaks the silence with a lighthearted comment. “Sorry about that. I wouldn’t mind if your tribute steals this, so we’d be even.”

Coriolanus just smirks as he watches F3’s drone reach Audrey.

Of course, he’s enjoying this.

“You knew Audrey was hungry, yet you chose that moment to send Callahan something,” you blurt out.

Coriolanus’s smirk doesn’t fade when he turns to you, leaning back coolly against his chair. “I was merely curious.”

But to a man like him, curiosity often blends with cruelty. Still, you purse your lips and let the matter go. There is so much work to be done, and if you do it right, this could potentially be the last interaction you’d ever have with him.

At F1’s prompt, since everyone has finished sending food to the test tributes, you take turns trying out and crossing out cases on your list related to the drones, sending bottles of water to check for any abnormal drone behaviour. When every test yields satisfactory, you conclude the drone software to be fully functional.

Which is a bummer because that means you’re now moving on to testing the game environment controls.

F1 rubs his palms and whispers, “Here we go.” He types a command you’ve never seen used before, so you peek into his screen behind his back.

He just activated the Muttations Release function.

From the basement’s tall ceiling, a chasm opens wide from which a glass case descends. It’s difficult to make out what’s inside the tank given the limited lighting in the basement, but whatever species is inside is brown, palm-sized, and writhing .

“What in the world are those?” F2 whispers, her eyes bulging at the display.

“That, my lovely little miracle workers, are my Genetic team’s brand-new itty-bitty side project.”

Everyone in the room turns their heads to the glass observation deck, where Dr Gaul just spoke through the intercom. She waves her gloved fingers at all of you, baring her teeth in a diabolical smile.

“Fire-ant muttations, modified to be two-hundred times their original size and weight – voracious, aggressive little buggers. The catch? A single bite not only causes severe burning sensations courtesy of the solenopsin venom, but also induces convulsions, delirium, and, the best out of all of them? Either intense displays of aggression or a deep state of comatose, brought about by a slow-acting compound genetically added to their venom glands.

“In short, not your typical ant bite,” she says, followed by a deep, throaty chuckle that makes your hair stand on end. “Feast your eyes.”

You’re on your feet at once, madly searching the screen for Tansey, whom you find twice as terrified as you are and clinging onto Callahan’s sleeve. Callahan, however, takes a single look at the tank with eyes bulged, grabs Tansey’s arm and makes a run for it.

Just seconds before the glass cage splits at the bottom and releases the creatures.

Your eyes are trained on the pair as droves and droves of the crawling freaks of nature chase after them. Callahan and Tansey are both thankfully light on their feet, jumping over obstacles without much issue, except this advantage doesn’t last. Mere inches away from being overtaken by the ant mutts, Callahan all but hauls his companion to the top of the nearest control panel before climbing to safety, while an ant that manages to crawl on top of another ant for leverage narrowly misses his ankles with its pincers.

Audrey had also managed to make it on top of a short cabinet physically intact not far away from where the tank had dropped from the ceiling.

“Goddammit, goddammit,” you can hear Callahan mutter under his breath. He’s rummaging through their bags frantically for something he can use to fend the accursed insects off, as they have begun to climb the control panel they’re perched onto. He finally fishes out a machete with a loud ‘ha!’ before throwing it to Tansey, and launches himself to the row of shelves on the left.

Is he leaving her?

Tansey seems to have the same question in mind.

“Wait, Callahan - !” – she impales an ant with the machete – “Come back!” she screams after her friend, but it’s too late – the boy is already several rows of cabinets and shelves away, rummaging through the junk he can reach in search of something. Eventually, he hops back on the floor, disappearing from her view entirely.

“Callahan, don’t leave me, please!” Tansey’s panicked scream echoes in your ears.

“Their vitals are going haywire...” F1 says as he checks his console.

More ants begin reaching the top of the control panel which Tansey defends with all her might, and she stomps on and slices as many of them as she can. Audrey, too, seems to manage well on her own with the knife she was rehearsing earlier despite her perch being closer to the floor.

Tansey’s control panel, however, starts getting flanked on three sides by the climbing ant mutts, and you know it would only be a matter of seconds before she herself, gets overtaken –

“TANSEY, GET OUT OF THE FUCKIN’ WAY!”

Tansey heeds the scream of warning just in time for most of her to avoid getting licked by huge bursts of flame that attack the ant mutts and keep them at bay.

It’s Callahan, who looks like he managed to successfully build the flamethrower out of parts he scavenged from the electronic trash he was rummaging through just a short while ago.

Relief, however short-lived, washes over you as you note Tansey’s appearance – she takes in the scene before her with a mixture of fascination and relief, her curls partly singed from the flames earlier, but otherwise, safe and unbitten.

“There’s too many of ‘em – fuck!” Callahan’s frustration becomes more evident in his yell as waves of ant mutts keep coming at them from all sides. Tansey still holds her ground from behind him with her machete, hacking at every moving, crawling thing coming at her.

The boy shifts his position as he observes the horizon. His eyes land on something to his south before a look of realisation hits him.

“Hey, Tansey, remember that area with them puddles? We gotta get there, I got a plan,” he tells her over his back. “Follow me, and whatever you do, don’t fuckin’ fall, got it?”

Tansey shouts in the affirmative. Callahan begins hurdling on top of the sea of shelves, computers and cabinets, with her tailing from behind. The ant mutts pursue them relentlessly, which puzzles you. Fire ants, after all, only attack a target which they've marked with their pheromones.

“How did they manage to get fire-ant pheromones on them?” you wonder out loud.

“My, my, aren’t you just astute, Ms Innis,” Dr Gaul’s drawling, delighted voice comes through the intercom. “Their shackles were smeared generously with them – a rather brilliant idea you can thank your mentor for.”

You flick your gaze sharply at Coriolanus, who simply beams at you. You open your mouth to react, but a scream from Tansey makes you whip your head to the big screen.

An ant mutt had managed to crawl on her back, but a hand swats it away.

It’s Audrey, falling into step beside her. Tansey mouths her thanks, which the other doesn’t acknowledge. Together, they spring towards the massive computer that Callahan had just landed on, with Audrey landing square at the centre. Tansey, however, barely makes it, her torso draped over the edge as she attempts desperately to pull herself up to higher ground with one hand while clutching the flamethrower with the other. Below her are several ant mutts, emitting clicking noises, as if calling for the rest of their colony.

To everyone’s surprise, Audrey rises to her rescue yet again: she takes the flamethrower and pulls her up to safety, only this time, Tansey doesn’t bother with niceties and just smiles at her. Audrey just blinks once, indicating she understands.

The tributes finally make it to their target area, so Callahan looks around, and as he does, his eyes land on their new companion.

“How nice of you to join us,” he says with a sarcastically formal flair. “Make yourself useful and fend ‘em off. Tansey!”

“They’re coming!”

“I know that – listen to me – I’mma need you to draw these little shits to the largest, deepest puddle,” he urgently instructs her. Turning to Audrey, he says, “Protect each other, and the both of you: when I tell you to get off the floor, get off the damn floor, understand?”

The girls nod in accord and at their leader’s prompt, they steel themselves and hop down the floor, where the mutts are but a few rows away. Callahan takes this time to hastily head to his left.

Where the main electrical source is.

F1 whoops in approval in the testing room. “And once again, the nerd saves the day.”

Everyone in the room is collectively holding their breath and ignoring their systems, now aware of Callahan’s grand plan.

He turns off the main power source, which automatically activates the secondary source. With brute force, he yanks the massive wires and drags them with him over the mountains of metallic trash. It’s obviously not an easy feat, having to lug wires heavier than his entire body weight.

From several rows away, Tansey and Audrey kill as many of the bugs as they can, the former with the flamethrower and the latter with her dagger, while they keep them in the puddle as Callahan instructed.

Callahan arrives heaving the wires and taking them apart. Then, he drops the wires to the floor where the copper ends touch the puddle, before taking off and back to the switch.

“You two: get off the floor NOW!” he hollers.

The two scramble through the hoard of mutts upon hearing Callahan’s cue. They make sure to trample some of the mutts along the way for good measure before ferrying themselves on top of the control panel, just as Callahan flips the switch to main.

For a fraction of a second, all the screens in the testing room turn black. Tiny high-pitched clicking noises are heard, which you assume are the mutts’ final cry before being fried to their death, along with sparks flying and electricity crackling, and the surges of electricity continue until you hear the switch being turned off.

The lights, however, don’t turn back on and are replaced by the tiny, flickering yellow emergency lights mounted on the basement walls. Callahan must’ve inadvertently fried the secondary electrical source as well.

“Switch to night vision view, please,” you say, to which F2 complies.

Panicking internally, your eyes scan for Tansey’s whereabouts, and you release the breath you’d been holding once you see her, crouched down and on top of the control panel, slowly rising to her feet as she looks around at the mess of an aftermath. Audrey follows suit, whipping her head around for any imminent danger.

“Is everyone alright? I didn’t zap ya’ll, did I?” shouts Callahan from right before the electrical switches. He sprints among the debris right to where they are.

“No, we’re okay,” Tansey responds. “You?”

Callahan just lets out a heavy sigh, followed by an eruption of relieved laughter from him. “Aside from wantin’ to puke at this stinkin’ pile of shit we just fried, I think I’m good.”

“Uh, guys? I think camera fifteen is conked out,” F3 notices.

F1 attempts a reboot of the camera, but the feed doesn’t return. He concludes eventually after multiple attempts, “The surge must’ve fried the chip.”

F2 logs this down on her checklist.

“Whoa, that was some great footage,” F1 whistles. “The other gamemakers are going to have a blast reviewing these files.”

The rest of the team nods in agreement.

They made it. Despite the glaring odds stacked against them, the three teens made it. Barely.

“You said nobody was going to die. That was a close call, Coriolanus.”

You had not meant to say that out loud but you do. You face him with your brows stitched together, ignoring the way he narrows his eyes at the name you used on him. You had not called him that in a long time.

“Nellie, we could not have gathered that much valuable data if we skipped that part of the test,” he replies gently. His console, however, lights up and emits the notification sound. “Sponsorship worked seamlessly, F2,” he calls out to her.

“Yep!” F2 nods enthusiastically. “Lucky Callahan.”

Pursing your lips, you head back to your station while your mentor sends more food to his tribute, perhaps as a reward for keeping everyone alive and, in consequence, extending the tests further. Instead, you quietly stew in your irritation and try to find comfort in the way the three of them finally descend to the floor and share the slices of bread among themselves. As an added treat, Tansey brings out the two remaining candies that you gave her that morning. She tries to give it to the two of them selflessly, but Callahan isn’t having it. In the end, they agree to share one between themselves and save the last for later.

Your joy at seeing them partake in a heartwarming moment is dampened by the fact that in your world, you can never imagine sharing a single piece of candy with two other people.

A few more uneventful hours pass as you and the rest of your team assess electrical damage that might’ve been dealt with by the electrical surge. You discover along the way that several cameras have a few microsecond delays in transmitting the footage, but nothing the team can’t repair or replace.

The three have already taken to foraging weaponry amidst the debris. Just in case, Callahan had said. Audrey had gone off by herself to do the same and had found electrical parts that Callahan had instructed her to find.

And then she just crumples on the floor into a screaming heap.

It’s visceral, haunting, and she sounds like she’s in extreme agony. Callahan rushes instantly to her side, but it’s Tansey who pries the source of the apparent pain: a lone ant mutt that had been left alive had latched its pincers on her left ankle.

“We got no meds for this,” Callahan says as he and Tansey carry her back to their makeshift camp where they earlier had shared the food. All they could do is wrap her in a blanket they pulled out from one of their bags. The pitiful cries continue for a while. Tansey just sobs helplessly in the background as she takes Audrey’s head and places it on her lap, stroking her blond hair in a vain attempt to soothe her.

And you don’t know what’s harder to watch: Audrey’s screaming or her convulsing on the floor.

“Hey, hey!” Callahan spots a camera nearby and waves at it. “You gotta stop the Games, or whatever, she can’t go on like this…”

His appeals, of course, are ignored by Coriolanus and F3.

Not like you could do anything either: there isn’t any anti-venom for that specific mutt programmed in the source code.

And then the convulsions stop, followed by a deathly silence, indicating the venom had finally put her into a coma she may never wake from.

“He’s right; we have to stop this.” You walk over to your mentor's station. “Coryo, please. We can save whatever data we have and continue next week when she’s better.”

Coriolanus just regards you with a strange look, like he’s contemplating what you just said. Wordlessly he rises from his seat and walks over to F1, probably to inspect the data the console has on Audrey before glancing at the big screen.

“I think you’re right, Nellie. Time is of the essence.” Your mentor says finally. He turns to face you with the stoniest smile you’ve ever seen in him yet. “Let’s test the remaining environment controls, but we need to hurry. We have a few more of them left to run.”

You could feel the blood drain from your face to your feet. He’s willing to let Audrey die just to see the test to completion. And because his word is the only authority next to Dr Gaul’s in this playing field, F1 simply shrugs and presses a command you can’t see on the gamemaker station.

“Wait - !”

The next thing you know is that thrumming pain in your ears, followed by that unbearable ringing that makes you close your eyes. A cloud of dust is all that greets you when you open them next.

You know this day; you’ve revisited it countless times in your life. Always vivid and exactly as you remember it to be, but that fact doesn’t make it any less painful.

When the dust finally clears, that’s when you see her.

“Mommy…no…”

You always sob like a baby at this part. You can’t even bear the thought of seeing her mangled body bathing in her own blood, but here you are, walking over to that heap of a woman who’s barely minutes away from dying. Just like you always do, you cradle her in your arms, letting yourself soak in her blood as you watch the life drain from her eyes.

Daddy's hand. You're supposed to find Daddy's severed hand now.

Cold hands cup your tear-stained cheeks, and a pair of lips touch the top of your head – something that has never happened to you before in any of these visions.

You lift your eyes, and instead of seeing a cloud of dust that you know should be clearing by now, it’s the all-too-familiar pair of the emptiest, most soulless blue eyes you’ve ever seen in your life, tearing you away from a nightmarish memory and shoving you into an even more nightmarish reality.

Enter Level 10

Author notes:

Please reblog and comment, it's always appreciated!!!

Sorry for the delay and forgive any typos. I shall edit when I wake up. Level 10 out tomorrow (crossing my fingers), I just had to cut what was supposedly Level 9 and divide it into two because it was getting too lengthy and the pacing might not make sense so... :P

Also, any guesses what 'important thing' that was that Snowball wanted to talk to her about?? Hmmm...

#dark!coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow x reader #young!coriolanus snow #young!coriolanus snow x reader #named!reader #or #x OC2ndPOV #18+ only #dark!coriolanus snow fic #dark!coriolanus #dark!coriolanus fic #dark!fic

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codenameredkrystalmatrix · 23 days

Text

Made with Love- Miguel O’Hara x FemReader

You could always trust him to bring the perfect close to a day at the café.

"Alright folks, keep it up. I want you all out of my place by 6 o'clock sharp!"

Translation: I know it's been a busy week, so I want you all to get some time off. I'll clean up here.

You smiled, joining in the teasing "Yes, sir, manager, sir!" with your co-workers. Isaac groaned, keeping up his unsmiling exterior.

Tables to wait, orders to write, customers to chat with- why hadn't Amanda made the amaretto yet? Oh, Jayce was here for his pound cake- did they have enough pumpkin for the muffins?

Yep, the post work rush was in full swing.

There was strain in your legs and and a bit of a rasp to your voice, but you wouldn't trade this for the world. Seeing people's faces light up when they tried something new, or close their eyes in contentment when they had their old favourites- this was your little slice (pun absolutely intended) of heaven. Although, there was one more thing that could have made it perf- oh crud!

"I have to do deliveries!"

"Nope! My turn!" Daniel gave you a two-fingered salute before putting on a bike helmet. "Check the roster!"

When you did look, he was right. Huh. You were certain it was yours, but you dismissed it. There was plenty to do inside.

The tide of activity ebbed and flowed as the hours wore on. As always, the hustle and bustle eased as daylight faded. The heat of many bodies crowded in one little café dissipated. Newcomers and regulars alike bid their goodbyes, and you could finally catch your breath.

You'd been sitting in the back kitchen when it happened. Dani called your name in that unmistakable singsong. “Someone’s here for you!”

He came? Your heart soared. It had been a while since Miguel last visited you on work. You could have your little evening ritual together.

You headed into the employee fridge, and picked up your packages, hoping he'd like the treats you'd chosen. As per store policy, employees got some of the goods that hadn't sold immediately to minimize waste. They were all well-kept, so there was no fuss about it. The rest would be donated wherever they could bring smiles.

Speeding into Entering the main dining area again, you saw the tall, mocha-toned man you loved smiling at you. “What brings you here, stranger?”

Reaching out, he slid his hands around your torso, guiding you into his chest for a gentle hug. “I missed you too.”

Hands occupied, you burrowed in with the rest of your body and smiled.

“How's work?”

“Busy. I thought you had all those new contracts to review, Mr. CEO!”

He stepped back slightly, the golden light dancing in his curls and giving a warm tone to those mahogany eyes.

“Sólo quería ver tu bonita cara.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Isaac tap the sign before heading out back. It featured a crossed-out can, then a crossed-out plate of noodles. Customers were told that it was the store policy on fast food. Your dear co-workers who knew the truth, however, snickered.

You huffed, deciding you'd ignore them all.

Once comfortable at a table, you produced your personal favourites, plus his cheesecake bars and mangonada sorbet from the bag. "I had to fight my way through Melinda and Sean for those, so enjoy them!"

"Your trials will be remembered, noble knight." He smirked, tasting the sorbet and giving a satisfied hum. You took a spoon and delved into your own treats, already feeling more relaxed.

The two of you fell into the comfortable rhythm of conversation, jokes, and the occasional silence. Given he worked in a much bigger business, there was always some new project or opera-worthy employee drama to discuss- told in his sarcastic, deadpan style that made you laugh to tears. You'd won the jackpot, my friend.

During a lull, one of Miguel's hands rested on the table as he reclined. An idea came. With a burst of courage and affection, you took his hand with both your own, lifted it to your lips and kissed it gently. You whispered what you wanted to say in Spanish, so he'd truly understand how much you appreciated him.

"Cada vez que se vuelve demasiado pesado, pienso en casa y pienso en ti."

A tiny gasp escaped his plump, parted lips, before his expression melted to fondness. The hand in your grasp moved to cradle your cheek. Leaning over, Miguel left a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then cheek, then trailed butterfly kisses down your neck.

"No sabes lo feliz que me hace, mi tesoro."

Shivers ran down your spine at the feeling of his lips. You'd reached up to pull him closer, but a tiny voice in your head reminded you of the sign.

You sighed, trying to think past the lightheadedness he always caused. “My…erm...boss doesn’t want us to…”

Miguel laughed, pulling back and looking at you one more time. “Let’s go home, then.”

Nodding enthusiastically, you went to get the rest of your belongings. The roster lay on its usual shelf, and you signed your name before leaving...wait. For all the other weeks, today really was supposed to be the day you you did deliveries. That sneaking Isaac had reassigned you so you could see Miguel more often. You shook your head, both amused and grateful.

As you headed out together, Miguel smiled to himself. One day, he’d tell you each secret and regret that weighed on him. He trusted you. But for now, he’d enjoy these happy days.

Translations:

“Sólo quería ver tu bonita cara.” : I just wanted to see your pretty face.

"Cada vez que se vuelve demasiado pesado, pienso en casa y pienso en ti." : Every time it becomes too much to bear, I think of home and I think of you.

"No sabes lo feliz que me hace, mi tesoro." : You don't know how happy that makes me, my treasure.

(Please accept my humble offering to the community. *runs back into the forest on all-fours.*)

#miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #miguel o hara #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o hara x you #miguel o hara x y/n #fluff #coffeshop #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o hara fanfic

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iiraluv · 7 months

Text

nostalgia radio ୨୧ — 태용 A FLOWERY KIND OF LOVE

wc: 0.77k pairing: fem!reader x ty warnings: none ! genre: secret-admirer to lovers smau

" in which y/n is oblivious to the very reason taeyong buys her favourite flowers every single time he visits her flower shop. "

♱ bookshop

"so what are your favourite flowers?"

taeyong came in again, this time his cheeks were rosy from the frosty autumn morning, the sight made your heart flutter.

you were ready to take his order; your notepad and pen stationed in your hands.

"would you like to order the dahlias again, sir?" you asked in a chirpy voice. you felt your heart getting lighter and lighter as he came closer to the counter. the cute guy smiled softly and nodded.

"yes, sure," he replied and looked down in shyness. you wondered why he was still shy since you've known him as a customer for almost a year now. you beamed at this.

before you wrote down the number of flowers and the type, something felt missing.

what am I missing..?

"ah!" you exclaimed, took a quick glance at the wall calendar on your left and saw that it was the 19th of october, the day he usually buys a birthday card for his special person, you assumed.

he looked up suddenly, head tilted slightly in confusion, "what is it, y/n?" the way he said your name, the way no one has ever said your name, made you feel warm all over.

"you forgot to ask for a birthday card," you replied, already grabbing a card from the rack in front of you before he placed his gloved hand on yours gently.

"actually, uhm," he looked around for a second before placing his attention back on you, his adorable eyes sparkling like snowflakes, "I don't need it this time." you were confused. very confused.

he placed your hands in his, and held it there before letting a hand reach up carefully to your cheek. you were frozen in your spot, eyes locked on to his, your cheeks flared up and your insides were performing somersaults against your will. it felt surreal, this moment, something you would otherwise never expect to happen.

"would you like to go out with me, y/n?"

your brains didn't process his words very well and it was clearly visible on your face.

"I-i'm sorry, did you just ask me out?" your excitement was bubbling up to the surface.

he chuckled adorably, "yes, I guess I am. it took longer than expected... but yeah."

"wait, so those dahlias I received every day were from you?" your smile emerging on your face and you saw his eyes form cute crescents just like yours.

"I'm not very subtle, am I?"

"not really, no!"

you both laughed heartily; seeing him laugh was one of the things to keep safe in your memories. it was like seeing snow for the first time: the dreamy stares and feelings of admiration was exactly how you would describe that very moment.

"how do you manage to pay for 100 dahlias every day?"

"well, I have a budget set specifically for buying them ," he said, looking down again, still smiling, "plus you gave me additional discounts every time, remember?"

you buried your face in your thick scarf and he rubbed his neck, not knowing what else to say. but that was alright, the both of you thought, what matters was that the feelings were mutual, very clearly so.

"I'd love to go out with you, taeyong," you replied, face slightly risen above the scarf, hands cupping his face.

"oh wait, I just realised something" you suddenly remembered something. you hurried to the back of the employees room where packaged orders, stocks of seeds to plant the flowers and a special gift were.

it was a bouquet of fresh, pretty roses - his favourite. you remembered that he had released his new album recently and it was a major success. feeling too awkward to gift it to him without much context, you decided to keep it when the time was right and well, the time was just about right now.

"here," you handed him the bouquet, his eyes widened in surprise.

"woah! what's this for?!" he sniffed the flowers gently, taking in the refreshing scent of the petals.

"it's a gift from me to you, for your new album release and for all the flowers you've given me." you went around the counter and gave him a precious peck on the cheek, staining it red.

"oops sorry - " you giggled softly and attempted to wipe it off with your thumb. he was staring at you adoringly with a dumb-struck look on his face.

and just before you both could continue the conversation, another customer came in, snapping you back to reality.

"hello ma'am, how can I help you!"

you looked over the customer's shoulder and made a phone gesture to your ear and whispered 'call me' to him and he enthusiastically replied with a thumbs up and an 'okay'.

your heart dropped as he walked out, wishing that time really stood still for those in love.

... a/n: I recommend listening to vincent blue's songs, especially this one while reading this because his songs really set the tone for the fluffiness 🩵

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shinjisdone · 6 months

Text

Ticking Springs

(A Yandere Pinocchio X fem!Reader fic from Lies of P)

Pɑɾt 1; Sluɱbeɾ

capitolo uno

capitolo due

capitolo tre

capitolo quattro: is here

capitolo cinque

capitolo sei

capitolo sette

Capitolo otto

Capitolo nove

Capitolo dieci

Pɑɾt 2; Awɑƙeƞiƞƍ

It was a privilege to share the same blood as Giuseppe Geppetto. To be his family, his niece and take part in the marvelous worlds of puppets. The privilege to learn from him as his apprentice. The privilege to care for the things he cares for and to have the things he cares for, care deeply for you.

Tag List:

@greeknerd007 , @mitsureigen , @kame11a , @thirdblogsacharm , @sarah22447 , @blueberryhitosh1 , @written1nthest4rs , @huicitawrites

TW in general: Yandere behaviour, creepy and still puppet, dubious intentions and relationship, still in WIP more warnings may occure in time, also I am running out of pictures of P he looks the same in every pic (but prettily so)

[Also, I am gonna be like that and mention that I would not mind any comments or reblogs! This series is definitely gonna have short chapters and is currently building up settings but there's gonna be good ol yandere Pinocchio tailing after you like a puppy afterwards, no worries!]

There was a spot of slobber on your collar.

You tried to make yourself presentable as fast as possible as you ran down the stairs. The table you had fallen asleep onto was left in its messy state as you woke up.

There in the kitchen was Geppetto, cleaning his plate. He briefly turned to you. "Good morning," He began slowly before paying his attention back to the flowing water.

Your eyes darted to the table with bread and an omelette on a lone plate, alongside a water jar. Quickly, you took your seat. "Good morning, Uncle." Your attempt at sounding casual failed but he did not turn back to you. Ceasing your stare, you picked up your fork and began to eat. Clearing your throat, you remembered to thank your uncle.

"Early birds get the early worms and not cold meals." Geppetto replied as he finally made eye contact with you. "Sleep in your bed next time and not on the work table." With a full mouth, you nodded.

"Sorry about that, Uncle, there was just...this one discrepancy I had to fix." "Did you now?" Geppetto dried his hands and rose a brow. Again, you nodded eagerly. "Yes, yes, about the butlers! Come, I'll show you! You'll have to leave soon, won't you?"

Brown eyes stared at your figure, bright eyes staring back at him and the corners of your full mouth dotted with crumbs. He sighed and shook his head, making his way to the hallway and gesturing you to follow.

Chugging down a glass of water, you hurried after. Cold egg tasted truly awful.

Hoisting one up on its feet, you tinkered a bit on its back. The sound of a button was heard and the puppet soon stood on its own. It's arm attempted to rese to its side in an 90° degree angle, thought stuttering and twitching on its way up. It stopped abruptly before the elbow could fully bend and its head did not fully turn to Geppetto.

"Good morning, sir!" The voice flew out of its speakers, "How may I serve you today?"

You eyed Geppetto with an swift and expectant smile. The latter briefly glanced at you with raised eyebrows. Then, he opened his mouth.

"I would like a glass of wine."

"Red wine or white wine?"

"White wine."

"Why, of course!"

Springs were clearly reacting and its head shook for a moment. The puppet replaced its vigorous tone with a soft one.

"My apologies, sir, I am afraid the workshop does not store any white wine at the moment. Shall I have a package ordered for you? In the meantime, I can serve red wine, dessert wine, beer, coffee, tea..."

Once again, you turned to the man with an even wider smile as the options kept spewing out of ithe puppet's speakers. Geppetto turned to you with a smaller one of his own.

"Very impressive." He kept nodding his head, perking his brows, "I still am not too fond of the all-nighter and would prefer if it was kept as a one-timer." A short chuckle escaped him and he turned back into the kitchen. You followed him as the puppet kept on speaking.

"Of course, Uncle." You nodded yourself, "This one just kept me up at night. I was so close to fixing the voice box." "And you've done well." Gloved hands easily fished out another coffee cup from the cupboard. The ceramic resounded softly in the open room as he reached for the milk.

"...black tea, chai, earl grey tea, green tea..."

"Thank you." Lips quirking up, you bowed your head briefly, hands behind your back. "I can go fix up the other butler brother, too. I mean, I believe I can, right?" One step closer and you practically leaned on your toes with wide, expectant eyes. You did hope your uncle wouldn't interpret your eagerness as impatience - even if it partly was.

"... cappuccino, latte macchiato, espresso, espresso mokka, espresso macchiato, cortado..."

With another glance, Geppetto shook his head even as his own lips quirked up. He closed the cupboard. "If you have already fixed his voice box, you might as well make his brother talk. But my goodness..." A snicker escaped the old man as he gestured with his hands full, "...make him stop his gabbling! He is too invested in his work!"

You laughed yourself. "Will do so, Uncle!"

Again, he pointed to the second, dead-still puppet on the table. "Hopefully his brother does not turn up to be such a chatterbox!"

You forced a chuckle. There is only so much that you could bear of Uncle's awful jesting.

"If it prattles as much as the other one..."

"...apple juice, orange juice, grape juice, cocoa, water..."

"...does that not mean I have become an expert at fixing up voice boxes?"

Geppetto utters an humph and bites his tongue. You are truly still young. His brown eyes gazed at the still-empty cup in his hand and he called out from the kitchen.

"If you manage to fully fix his motions as well and have him make me coffee, I might bestow you such a title, dear!"

#lies of p #lies of p x reader #lies of p pinocchio #pinocchio #yandere #yandere lies of p #yandere pinocchio #ticking springs

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lilmissnatcat24 · 7 months

Text

are you ready for the trope i've been foaming at the mouth to finally write

“Vakarian?” Pallin’s voice called out from his glass office. He gestured him forward with a flick of his fingers. “Can we talk? Now?”

It was never a good sign when Pallin called someone aside. He, like most other turians, was professional, bordering on emotionless. Which made it all the most devastating when he would pull someone from the case, or fire them with a neat little severance package, or tell them that they needed to go pick out chunks of a vorcha out of a car grill on Tayseri (and, speaking from personal experience, was probably one of Garrus’s least favorite days working for C-Sec).

Garrus ignored the immature chittering that came from Chellick, Ridgefield, and Lamont as he joined Pallin down the hallway into an empty office, normally kept clean and tidy for telling families that their children and their parents were found somewhere on the Citadel murdered. Pallin gestured at one of the seats for Garrus, pacing back and forth with a datapad tucked underneath his arm.

Pallin looked incredibly uncomfortable. He was fidgeting with his armor, fidgeting with his gloves, fidgeting with his mandibles, fidgeting with just about everything in a five foot radius that could be fidgeted with. Garrus realized he’d never seen Pallin look so nervous before.

He placed the datapad down on the table, looking up at Garrus expectantly. “Is this true, son?”

Garrus was terrified to pick it up. It could be just about anything. Saren’s orders to fire Garrus from C-Sec, transcripts from a listening device that implicate Garrus in his investigation, a paper trail linking him to a sex club… He picked it up and read:

Consensual Relationship Agreement

Citadel Security is committed to creating a work environment free from harassment, discrimination, conflicts of interest, exploitation, and favoritism.

It is against Citadel Security policy to use a position of authority to induce another person to enter into a nonconsensual relationship. Indeed, even consensual relationships in the workplace can cause disruption and other problems in violation to company policy.

The purpose of this agreement is to affirm that Delia Shepard (Officer- Drugs and Trafficking) and Garrus Vakarian (Officer- Homicide), both employees of Citadel Security, have agreed to engage in a welcome, consensual social relationship--

Garrus’s tongue felt like a foreign object in his mouth, his stomach dropping down several levels. What the everliving fuck was Shepard thinking? His entire face was so stupidly warm, so warm that he was sure that Pallin could feel it from across the room.

“I--”

“Listen, Vakarian,” Pallin said in a fake sort of soft professional voice. This was why he was so uncomfortable; dealing with HR matters like this always made him unsure of what to say, or how to say it, or where to put his hands when he talked. “I’m not going to be the one to tell you who you can and can't see when you’re not at work or how to spend your free time. But are you absolutely positive that this is how you want to play this?”

“Um… I mean… we-- I guess, the two of us… um…” Garrus had no idea what to say. Luckily for him, neither did Pallin, evidently.

“I don’t need to know the specifics, please,” he put his hand up, a pained expression on his face. “Just… just make sure this doesn’t get in the way of your work, yeah? No… no quickies in storage closets.”

“No, sir,” Garrus said so quickly it sounded like one garbled, stuttering mess.

“I better not be able to smell her all over you.”

“No, sir.”

“And I sincerely hope you don’t spend all of your time on the seventh floor at her desk. You need to be at yours, working. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.” Pallin opened his mouth once more, then thought better, closing it. He waved Garrus away, a clear end to the conversation. Garrus stood, his head feeling as though someone replaced his brain with feathers and flies. And, doing exactly what Pallin told him not to do, went straight for the elevator and punched in the seventh floor.

#mass effect fanfiction #mass effect #mass effect fanfic #shakarian #ao3 fanfic #shepard x garrus #femshep #garrus vakarian #turn left

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chimerickat · 2 years

Note

lmaooo I like to think that at first, Kaiba Corp staff really did not believe Kaiba's s/o was really involved with him and that she is just another delusional fan trying to bypass security...until the big man himself comes down-

“I’m just trying to drop off his glasses.”

“Mr. Kaiba doesn’t wear glasses.”

You shrug. “I don’t know what to tell you. He absolutely does and these are them.”

The guard frowns at you. He doesn't say a word.

You hold out the glasses. "Look. I know he's busy, but can you just give these to his assistant or something? He's going to get a headache without them."

"We don't accept packages for Mr. Kaiba." He picks up the phone on his desk. "And I'm going to call security to escort you out of the building."

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, distracting you from your current frustration. You pull it out to see a text from Seto. I left my glasses at your place.

"I know," you say out loud, talking to yourself as you type. "In your lobby... they won't take them..." Then you hit send.

"Ma'am." A burly man wearing a bulletproof vest steps up in front of you. "If you don't leave, I'm going to have to use force."

He's overkill for this situation. "Do fangirls come in with guns normally?" You know they all think you're crazy, but the SWAT team doesn't seem necessary.

The man doesn't respond as he grabs your arm. He begins to pull you toward the front doors.

Your phone starts buzzing again. This time the screen shows a video call from Seto Kaiba. You hit accept.

He's sitting in his office. You can see his windows have been shaded to reduce the light in his office. "What do you mean they won't take them?"

You flip the phone toward the security guard so he can see his boss on the screen. "Ask him."

The man straightens up, releasing his grip on your arm. His scowl disappears. "Mr. Kaiba. Sir. The front desk told me we had a disturbance. I'm just following their orders."

"Useless," Kaiba mutters, just loud enough to be heard. "You have new orders. Escort her straight up to my office." You hear the noise that indicates the call is over.

The guard doesn't notice. "Yes, sir, right away." Then he holds out his hand, pointing toward the elevators. "After you, miss."

You flounce past the front desk, smirking at the man sitting behind it as you go by. Once you're at the elevators, the security guard keeps anyone from entering the next elevator to open. He holds it open for you and then joins you inside, glaring at anyone who might think about joining the two of you. He holds his card up to the reader and presses the button for the top floor.

Then he presses another button. It has a lock on it which doesn't give you too much of an idea, but the elevator doesn't stop until it reaches the top floor. At the top, he holds the door open and lets you exit before him.

He tells Kaiba's assistant that he has a VIP guest for Mr. Kaiba. The assistant just nods at you, having seen you in the evenings, and gestures for you to go in. The security guard doesn't wait and hurries back to the elevators.

You push the door open, letting yourself into his office. "I didn't realize bringing these to you would be such a hassle." You put the glasses down on his desk.

"They couldn't find you on the visitor list?"

"They didn't check. I didn't think to ask since I was just trying to drop off a pair of glasses." You checked the time. "I'm running super late for work now."

"Important people never run late."

You smile, knowing he's only partially serious about that statement. "Well, I'm not doing this again."

"My reception staff will be better trained next time."

You wave off his comment. "It's a hassle. Just keep a spare pair at my place."

He raises an eyebrow and smirks. "Are you telling me to buy a pair just to have them at your place?"

"You're telling me you don't have a spare pair of glasses somewhere?"

"Why don't you just move in with me? Then we don't need to worry about spares of anything."

You frown. This conversation is nothing new, and Seto has taken advantage of every opportunity to ask since about five dates in when you made it clear that marriage at three months of dating was insane. "Kaiba Mansion is too far away from my job. That commute would suck. I don't even know how you do it." To be fair, he spent more time at your place now and didn't do that commute much.

"Well your place is far too small," he says as if you've asked him to move in with you. Which you won't. He's already taking up far too much space in your closet. His jackets have turned into an invasive species, crowding out your work clothes. "I suppose I could buy a place in the city..."

And talk of new housing is your cue to leave. "Now I really will be in trouble at work. I'll see you later."

Later that day, when he sends you a text with a link to a multi-million dollar townhouse, you know this is your own fault. You've encouraged a man who needs no encouragement. You text him back, letting him know that girlfriends of less than a year generally don't weigh in on property purchases.

#seto kaiba #kaiba seto #kaibaxreader #seto kaiba x reader #seto kaiba reader insert #kaiba x reader #reader insert #hardcore committed seto kaiba #I've seen people talk about how once he's in #he is ALL IN #And I liked the chance to write that #But also I think whoever he falls for will be sensible?#So they're going to be like hey buddy we don't get married this quickly wtf?#Idk I hope people like it!#dragonsilk

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chloessleepystories · 8 months

Text

Chocolate Fog

Mind control, Drugged, Male/Female, Male Dominant

This was sparked by a patron's three-word prompt: Airplane. Eyes. Chocolate.

***

The setting sun was glaring through the little airplane window, so Amber, squinting, lowered the shade halfway. She was a pretty white girl in her early 20s, blonde, with a thin sweater stretched over generous breasts. Her seatmate had noticed them – noticed her beauty – but hadn't been creepy about it, and she appreciated that. They were only an hour into their 4-hour flight, and she didn't want to feel creeped out the whole time.

He seemed like a gentleman. Older man, with dusky skin and a trim white beard. Dr Suresh or something like that, he'd said, with just a hint of an accent, as he'd smiled and exchanged pleasantries before takeoff. She got a warm feeling from him – partly from his nice smile, partly from his rich, deep, soothing voice, but mostly from his eyes – they sparkled with warmth and mischief, and there seemed to be golden flecks in those kindly, chocolate-brown eyes.

The snacks and drinks trolley was coming down the aisle. She found she was really looking forward to that little packet of peanuts. She pulled down the little tray, moving her paperback to the empty seat beside her. How fun air travel was! And how cool that the flight wasn't fully booked, so she had room to spread out. Dr Suresh had spread out too – he'd laid a small case on the seat between them when he first sat down. So that was nice – a shared space, but also a buffer.

She ordered her peanuts and a Diet Coke from the nice stewardess.

"There you go. And for you, sir?"

"A scotch and soda, please. Neat."

"That's all?"

"That is all. Thank you. Oh – a blanket, perhaps, when you have the chance."

Amber leaned over, once the stewardess had moved on. "No peanuts? I think the peanuts are my favorite part. For some reason, peanuts on a plane just taste better than peanuts anywhere else!"

He chuckled in his throat, as she giggled. "This is true. Perhaps someone should do a study as to why. Me, I do not need them, for I bring my own snacks." He patted the small sample case between them. "The finest chocolate bars no one has heard of – yet. New, from my company."

"Wait – you make chocolate?? That's awesome! What are you, Willy Wonka?" He laughed again at her little joke. She liked his laugh. "Wait a second, I thought you said earlier you were a scientist?"

"This is indeed true. I am a scientist," he said, and his eyes twinkled. "There is a lot of science that goes into making good candy. Did you know this?"

He was already opening the case, so she decided he didn't mind talking about it. "So what's special about it?"

The bars were packaged more like an extra thick Hershey bar than a Snickers or 3 Musketeers – a dark-brown sleeve around a foil wrapper. The sleeve said "Chocolate Fog."

"Our chocolate is made from a very special bean just recently discovered deep in the Amazon rainforest," he said in his rich, melodic voice. "Its flavor is unlike any other kind of chocolate previously tasted outside of Peru. In our labs, it goes through a special process designed to enhance its unique properties, until we arrive at what I believe is the best chocolate bar ever created."

He peeled open one end of one bar to show it was segmented. He broke off a chunk and held it out. "You will have a taste, and you will agree, yes?"

Well, how could she refuse free chocolate? She popped the thick square in her mouth, and her eyes lit up at the explosion of taste on her tongue. "Mmmm! It's so rich, and ... nutty? But also there's a softness, like ... almost a little nougat in there?"

"That is what gives it its ‘fog,' I believe," he murmured. "That airy quality."

"It's amazing!" she said, and drooled a little speaking around a mouthful of chocolate. "Could I ... Could I have a little more?"

"You may have the whole bar, dear lady," he said, and the golden flecks in his eyes sparkled as he smiled. "I have plenty more ..."

Half an hour later, the plane interior was much darker. The sun had finished setting, and people were dozing, or watching movies with their headphones. Only a few overhead pinpoint lights lit up the interior gloom.

Amber had a tummy full of chocolate. She'd finished the bar in a surprisingly short time, and had been allowed to devour a second too. Now, she leaned back in her seat, feeling the gentle rocking of the plane and hearing its dull roar, and feeling ... lulled. Lulled into a repose.

Lull, lull, lull. What a funny word, she thought. Lol. Lull. Lulllllled ...

She looked over at Dr Suresh, with a dopey smile and lidded, glazed eyes. "Thasss so good ..." she whispered. "Bess chocklit ever ... It makes me, like, happy ..."

The chocolate taste coated the inside of her mouth. It felt like was coating her brain, too, which was sluggish. Thoughts were moving slowly through the rich, chocolatey fog in her head.

"I am very glad to hear that," said her seatmate. "You look like you are enjoying it thoroughly."

He raised his armrest and, moving his sample case and the blanket he'd gotten from the stewardess, slid into the seat beside her.

"I am always interested in learning more about the special properties of these special beans. So I do enjoy finding more test subjects. Tell me – and please be honest, this is for posterity – how do you feel?"

She giggled, quietly. "I feel ssoooo goooood ..." she whispered. "Like, rosy! Like no worries, no stress, all the tension I was feeling in my body that I didn't even know I was carrying, has melted away! Like every cell in my body has gone on a happy lil vacation!!!"

"Well, that does sound delightful," he said, making a few notes on a small pad.

"Whadid you ssay was in there?"

"A mild sedative to slow the limbs, dopamines and opioids that produce a gentle euphoria, similar to being pleasantly intoxicated. Some components of the bean that inhibit activity in the prefrontal cortex and make you highly suggestible, that we have ... enhanced. And of course some pretty damn good chocolate."

He smiled, and his teeth seemed to shine in the dim light of the plane interior. She could see his eyes glittering, almost like a cat's.

"... Huhh?" she slurred. There was a bit of chocolate-brown drool at one corner of her mouth. She seemed to be having trouble focusing on him.

"Now," he went on. "Here's my question. I know the chocolate makes you happy. Makes you dopey. And it sometimes can be addictive. What I don't know is ..." And he leaned closer. "Does the chocolate make you horny?"

She blinked, and focused a little bit, looking deeply into his eyes. "H-horny?"

"Yes. You can feel it now, can't you? You can feel the rich, melting pleasure coursing through you, from your tongue up to your brain, and down through your whole body ... Melting away your inhibitions, covering your objections with flavor and pleasure." She was captivated by his eyes, dancing and sparkling. She hardly had to listen to his words. "The chocolate fog fills your whole body, making your nipples erect, yes? Your tummy tingle. Your arms and legs are like lead, heavy with the weight of their happiness, and your pussy ... oh, your pussy is singing, and buzzing, drinking in the rich, chocolatey heat. It's getting so aroused, so needy. Why, if you think about it – and it is hard to think, isn't it? – but if you think about it, you can feel your whole body, and all your mind, melting into your needy, foggy pussy. If only you could lift your arms, you would be desperate to pinch your nipples. Desperate to rub your clit. As it is, you can't help but squeeze your thighs together, around that heat, that aching need ... Isn't that right? You're squeezing right now, aren't you?"

She couldn't look away from his eyes. She could barely blink. Her eyes were watering. She nodded. Her whole body was consumed with hunger – no longer for chocolate, but for sex. For carnal pleasure. For cock. Yes! She needed to be filled with cock! That's what she craved now!!

She whimpered, quietly, in that dozing, dark plane filled with unknowing passengers, staring into the eyes of her kindly seatmate.

He moved the blanket over her lap without breaking eye contact, and pressed his hand into her crotch under its cover. He raised her skirt and stroked a finger along the moist heat of her panties-covered mound. She moaned and twitched, her mouth falling open, staring into his eyes.

"Please ..." she whispered. "Please, I'm so horny ..."

"My only question," he said, smiling directly into her eyes, "is whether you would have gotten so horny if I hadn't suggested it. Did I implant that thought into your suggestible brain? Or does the chocolate actually make you horny by itself?"

He moved her panties aside, and stuck a finger deep into her wetness. Her eyes filled silently with gratitude, already dreaming how she wanted to spend the whole weekend with him, letting his fingers and his cock and his chocolate do everything he wanted to with her.

"Every time, I tell myself I'm going to just wait and see," he went on, stroking her sex, already bringing her close to her first mind-breaking orgasm. "I won't say a word, just observe. But every time ... well ... I can't help it. I tell you how good your body feels. And it does."

She grasped his strong arm in both her little hands, and gasped in ecstasy, trying to be as quiet as possible and mostly succeeding.

"Six times now, and every time, I ruin the experiment. I just can't stop talking! It is a failing. I am a bad scientist."

He grinned.

"But you forgive me ... Don't you?"

And his eyes sparkled.

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agustdiwillsueyou · 7 months

Text

WHEN HE SURPRISE YOU ON YOUR BIRTHDAY • MYG FF

"Okay, we're going now," Mom said while putting on her shoes. "Mummy can go tomorrow; stay here tonight," I asked her. I can live alone, but living alone on my birthday seems a bit depressing. "Dear, I have work, or else I would have stayed," she said hurriedly and then hugged and kissed my forehead. "Happy Birthday, dear. Bye," she wished me.

"Bye," I bid her. I started washing dishes. "No call, no message. Does he even remember that today is my birthday?" I muttered. After finishing the dishes, I moved on to clean the living room.

"After finishing all the house chores, I was about to leave when I heard the doorbell. "Is he here?" A smile spread across my face. I jogged towards the door and opened it. However, as I did so, my smile quickly faded.

"Hello, here is your order," said a delivery boy.

"But I didn't order anything," I told him.

"No ma'am, it's from Mr. Yoongi," he informed me.

"Oh, okay. Give it to me," I said and took the parcel."

"What's inside?" I asked the parcel, fully aware that it couldn't talk. It's a side-effect of living alone. I eagerly tore open the package and to my amazement, it was an ALBUM! WOW!!

This man sure knows how to steal my heart, yet I couldn't help but feel unimpressed. Alongside the album, I found a letter tucked inside.

Dear YN,

First and foremost, a very happy birthday to you. I hope you're having a wonderful day. I deeply regret not being able to celebrate with you in person due to my tight schedule. However, I'm determined to make it up to you. I learned that you weren't able to get the PROOF ALBUM, so here it is, my gift to you.Once again, happy birthday.

With love, Yoongi

There something else in box, Enjoy 😉

"What's with the wink emoji sticker?" I narrowed my eyes and saw a little box inside the box. I took it out and it was wrapped in gift paper. "He wrapped it himself," I said and examined the box.I unwrapped the box, and what I saw made my eyes widen and my jaw drop. A VIBRATOR!!WTF??? Now he's making fun of me. "We've been married for two years and we haven't even... and now he's making fun of it." "This is why people shouldn't marry their best friend." I vented all my anger.

I put all the gifts on the table and went to take a bath.

YOONGI POV

"Did you deliver that parcel?" I asked one of the staff, to which he replied, "Yes, Sir." I thanked him and hung up the call. Entering the building, I headed for the elevator, pressing the floor number where YN lives.

"Today, she'll be surprised," I thought, rubbing my hands together. After a few moments, I arrived at our doorstep. I gently pushed the door open, entered, and quietly removed my shoes. I noticed she had arranged the gifts on the table. "But where is she?" I pondered.

Curiosity piqued, I entered her room and heard the sound of the shower. "Ah, she's taking a bath," I mumbled, deciding to find a hiding spot.She emerged from the bathroom, towel-drying her hair. I took out my cell phone and sent her a message.

'Hi YN'

' Happy Birthday Darling 🎉'

"Her phone chimed with a notification. She picked it up, her expression shifting into an angry pout. She messaged me back.

With a frustrated gesture, she tossed her phone onto the bed and turned her attention to combing her hair in front of the mirror. 'Just a few more minutes, honey,' I mumbled to myself.

Then, I heard the sound of rain. Oh no, she hates rain on her birthday."Oh, it's raining now. Hence, today is officially my birthday," she sighed. "Rain always brings a touch of melancholy to my birthday," she complained, before walking towards the balcony. She opened the patio door, allowing the cold air to kiss her face.

"Now is the perfect time to try out the gift my eccentric genius of a husband gave me," she declared before heading to retrieve the gift. I covered my mouth in amazement, thinking, 'Is she really going to do it now, here?' I nervously muttered to myself, "YN, please, not now."

She returned to the room and opened a drawer. "I'm not exactly thrilled about this vibrator, but my dear husband thoughtfully gifted it to me, so I can't just dismiss it. Although, I have no idea how to use it," she said while examining the intimate toy. Eventually, she placed it back in the drawer, reassuring herself, "No worries, he'll teach me. And if he doesn't, I'll give him a piece of my mind." Her firm resolve left me facepalming in embarrassment.

Next, she retrieved the CD speaker. 'Ah, she's going to play a song,' I thought. She carefully placed the CD labeled 'Yet To Come' on the speaker and settled onto the bed.

The song's melody was truly soothing.

Before long, the song came to an end...

YN POV

"The song came to an end, prompting me to rise from the bed. Suddenly, the bulb started blinking on and off.

"Now you're showing your tantrums," I scolded the bulb, crossing my arms. After giving it a stern second look, I fetched a stool. Placing a small ladder on the floor, I climbed up to try and fix the bulb. However, it proved futile. "Hmm, it's not working," I sighed, descending from the ladder. Unfortunately, my foot slipped, and I was on the verge of falling. I instinctively closed my eyes, bracing for the impact, but I landed in someone's arms.

I opened my eyes, expecting pain, but found none. Instead, I saw Yoongi holding me, though my right leg was still entangled in the ladder. Our gazes locked, and I felt that same rush of emotions I'd been trying to suppress. The intensity of his eyes always had the power to stir something within me, and it still did. What are you doing to me, Yoongi?

I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he slid his right hand behind my legs, lifting me in a bridal style. I couldn't tear my eyes away from him.

"Are you okay?" He asked, concern evident in his eyes. I looked away, nodding in response. He gently set me down.

"Why are you here?" I inquired, wasting no time."First, let me fix this bulb, then we'll talk. Alright?" he suggested, pointing at the malfunctioning light. I nodded in agreement.

He ascended the ladder and skillfully fixed the bulb. As he descended, he declared, "Done," then turned his gaze towards me. I silently pleaded for him to look away; his gaze always had the power to melt me. Eventually, I broke eye contact.

"Are you still upset with me?" He asked, wearing a sad pout. He approached me, and I couldn't help but sigh. "You know I can't stay upset with you," I admitted, wrapping my arms around him. He reciprocated the hug, and I thought to myself, 'Only I know how much I missed his warmth.'

"Happy birthday, YN," he murmured, breaking the hug to kiss my forehead. "Thank you, Yoongi," I replied with a bright smile.

"Let's sit," he suggested. We settled near the patio door, admiring the rainy weather. Though my gaze was fixed on the rain, I could sense him watching me. When I turned to meet his eyes, he simply smiled and shook his head, redirecting his attention to the rainy view.

Then, we both heard the doorbell. I was about to get up, but he stopped me. "Wait, I'll check," he said, and I nodded. He went outside.

After a few minutes of waiting, I suddenly heard the familiar tune of a birthday song. I saw Yoongi, holding a small cake adorned with flickering candles. Overwhelmed with happiness, I instinctively covered my mouth.

"Oh my God, this is so sweet," I gushed in gratitude. He settled beside me, carefully placing the cake plate on the floor. "Blow out the candles, then make a wish," he instructed. I took a deep breath and blew out the candles. Yoongi broke into applause, his voice joining in the birthday song. In that moment, I couldn't help but silently wish for a future filled with Yoongi's unconditional love, hoping to spend my entire life with him.

After cutting the cake, I offered the first bite to him, and in return, he fed me a piece. Together, we finished the entire cake, and he playfully adorned my cheeks with frosting. A few tears welled up in my eyes, though they were only feigned

He grew concerned. "I'm so sorry. It's just cake," he apologized, reaching for a tissue to gently wipe my face.

He then lay down, resting his head in my lap. I tenderly stroked his hair, watching as he closed his eyes and settled into a state of relaxation. As the rain ceased, a gentle, cool breeze caressed us. "This is the best birthday," I finally spoke the sentiment my heart had been holding.

He opened his eyes, sat up, and cradled my face in his hands. "I'm sorry, YN, for not giving you my time. I promise you'll see me every day soon," he assured, a smile gracing his lips. His words puzzled me.

"What do you mean? Please don't tell me you're planning to go public with our relationship," I scolded gently, pointing a finger at him. "You don't have to take such a big risk. I'm content even if we meet infrequently. Your happiness and pursuit of your dreams matter more to me."

He took my hands in his, his gaze filled with concern. "But you are my dream, too. I'm not truly happy without you; my joy is complete with you by my side. And I know you feel the same. You have every right to say that your dream is me, and everyone should accept it," he declared, cupping my face as tears escaped my eyes. "I love you so much, YN... and I can't hide it any longer. Just give me one month. Promise, YN," he implored, kissing my hands.

"It's alright, Yoongi. I understand," I assured him, a mixture of emotions swirling within me.

He gently wiped away my tears. "Now don't cry, you look so ugly when you cry," he teased, and I couldn't help but laugh at his joke.

This time, I shifted to lay on his lap, gathering courage to confess. "I love you too, Yoongi," I admitted.

"I know," he replied with a soft chuckle.I closed my eyes, savoring the relaxation his touch brought. Suddenly, I felt soft lips press against mine, and there was no doubt whose they were. I couldn't help but smile, even between our kisses. Eventually, we parted.

"Nice taste," he commented, and I giggled in response, feeling a warm glow spread through me.

"Now, I'm asking you one last time, what are you actually cooking?" I warned him, my curiosity piqued.

"Okay, it's Aloo ka Paratha," he finally revealed, while stuffing spicy potatoes into something resembling bread, but not quite.

"Aloo ka what?" I asked, genuinely confused.

"PA-RA-THA," he emphasized, breaking down the word for me."Ah, got it," I nodded,

then picked up my phone and opened Google to learn more about 'Aloo ka Paratha'.

"Ah, got it," I nodded, then picked up my phone and opened Google to learn more about 'Aloo ka Paratha'.

As I read aloud the search results, "Google says, 'Aloo paratha is a bread dish originating from India. It is a popular breakfast dish in the Indian subcontinent. The recipe is one of the most beloved breakfast dishes throughout the western, central, and northern regions of India, as well as the eastern regions of Pakistan.' This sounds really tasty," I remarked, my mouth already watering at the thought.

"It is," he affirmed, carefully arranging the parathas on a plate.

He placed the plate on the dining table, then nervously rubbed his hands. "Let's eat," he suggested, and we both settled into our chairs. He took a piece, offering it to me, and I gladly accepted it into my mouth. As the flavors burst, my eyes widened, and I glanced at Yoongi, who was awaiting my feedback.

"Oh my God, Yoongi, it's incredibly tasty," I exclaimed, thoroughly enjoying the paratha.

"See, I told you," he declared, his voice filled with pride.

"Eat more," he encouraged, and I nodded. "You should have some too," I insisted, offering him a piece."No, I can't. I'm on a diet," he protested.

"YAHH.. PLEASE, JUST ONE PARATHA," I insisted firmly.

"Okay, okay," he relented, finally giving in and savoring a paratha as well.

....

"We both were in an elevator, our arms were linked to each other, and my head was resting on his shoulder. 'I'll miss you, Yoongi,' I said with a sad tone. 'Me too,' he said, rubbing my hands. I looked up at him, and he was also looking down at me."

"He leaned down to kiss me. Our lips met, both soft and passionate. We broke the kiss, and soon the elevator doors opened. He covered his face with a mask. 'I love you, Honey,' he said, patting my head as he went out of the elevator. However, he came back inside and handed me a small box."

"Then he went out again. 'This will always fill my emptiness when you feel alone.' And then the elevator closed. I opened the box, and there was a necklace. 'I love you,' I mumbled."

THE END

Insta: bangffsi3

YouTube: Bangffsi3

#bts smut #bts fluff #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts angst #books & libraries #bts suga #bts yoongi #btsedit

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crepe-of-wrath · 1 year

Text

Benefits Package AU St. Valentine's Special Part 1 (Alucard x Fem Reader)

Notes: not a direct continuation of BP 1/2, but happening in the same AU continuity; this is the set-up for the Main Event on Tuesday so no smut here; this is more light-hearted/slice of life

Picture it: the Hellsing Manor, sometime in late 1998. You had learned many unexpected things about Alucard since Sir Integra ordered him to start 'taking care' of you. For example, he had a surprising Boys' Own impish streak that occasionally broke through all his weightiness, and at the most unpredictable times...

You caught him emerging from the wall out of the corner of your eye and screamed right over his (presumed) greeting.

The vampire just grinned at you as though he was totally unaware of how badly he'd frightened you, which, as you had come to learn, was probably the truth of it, as age and...whatever else had happened to him had made him completely blind to temporary flashes of human emotion.

To be fair, the fact that you were now laughing--I mean, he did look ridiculous, only phased halfway through the wall, attention now turned to your TV and DVD player--didn't help.

(Thanks to his Master, Alucard had not only been one of the very first beings on earth to have his own DVD player, but he also had perhaps the finest collection of action movies on DVD in the world. There was an entire folder in one of your cabinets that contained volumes of correspondence negotiating for one-off DVD copies of Alucard's favorite films that hadn't seen regular public release yet. As a result, the cinematic world now labored under the assumption that Sir Integra was a great admirer of thrillers. She was not.)

"I heard you opening something. Did I get a new movie?" asked Alucard, with all the genuine enthusiasm of a twelve-year-old child.

"This is actually for me," you said. "You won't like it. It's sitcom stuff." You had just unwrapped the world's only version of The Simpsons (Seasons 1-4) on DVD. (Many DVDs, to be precise.)

Alucard shrugged.

"Enjoy, little human." And, with that, he was gone.

You were skipping from episode to episode in Season 4 while doing your usual late-night work when there was a knock at the door. You squealed in surprise.

"Little human," said Alucard, who just walked through the door instead of waiting for you to open it, "is there any method of entering a room that doesn't upset you?"

"It's late!"

"Yes it is"--now he sounded like Walter when he lectured you about taking care of yourself--"and you should stop working." With no effort, he pulled over a large, ornate wingback, plucked you out of your office chair, and settled you in his lap. He let you wrap your comparatively little hand in one of his and prop your head on his chest as he gently scratched your scalp with the fingers of his other hand.

"That's right," he quietly whispered. "All done for today, little human. Tell me, what are we watching?"

"Well," you said, "the girl in the dress gave that boy next to her a paper valentine because no one else gave him one and she felt sorry for him, and now he thinks she is his girlfriend and she's about to embarass him at this public event on camera by telling him she's not."

" And...this is funny?"

"Yes," you said, although in the moment you found yourself unable to explain why.

"What sorts of Valentine's presents do you usually get, little human?"

You laughed. "The only person who ever got me anything was my father. I think it was so I wouldn't feel left out when he and my mother exchanged gifts."

"Hmmm," said Alucard. "And what did he get you last year?"

"Oh, he hasn't gotten me a Valentine's gift in some time," you said, only realizing in that moment that this made you a little sad.

"Hmmm," said Alucard.

TBC

#alucard x reader #alucard x you #alucard imagine #hellsing alucard #alucard hellsing #my writing

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digital-corruption · 1 year

Text

This is just a little two-part story for an idea I had while working on my original story. I hope you enjoy it. 😁

Infiltrator - Part 1

MC walked into the large, spacious lobby carrying a large cardboard box, holding her head low so the baseball cap on her head would cover her eyes from the cameras as she entered. The first thing she noticed was the ostentatious use of marble. The floor, walls, reception desk, even the benches for waiting visitors were all marble. She contemplated ditching her plan of getting upstairs and instead just faking a fall and injuring her back instead, then suing the corporation for an obscene amount of money for their hazardous use of marble instead. Maybe the client would be happy with a generous payout instead. Then again, to make it stick she would actually have to be injured to some degree, and someone would absolutely lose his mind if she went that far. No, she had to stick to her plan of sneaking upstairs to their highest levels and find their most sensitive secrets. Somehow.

“How can I help you? Is that a delivery? I can take that for you,” the female receptionist reached for the carton in MC’s hands.

“Ah, no ma’am. I’m under strict orders on this one. It must be delivered to the big guy upstairs, and only him,” MC smirked confidently, then pointed to the top of the box. “See? Says ‘Sens-i-tive’.”

“I’m afraid that’s just not possible. We’ll take it to him and make sure no one else sees the contents of the package,” the receptionist frowned. MC could tell she wasn’t buying her excuse.

“But I could get fired for it!” MC raised her voice. “Please, my boss will have my head if I just hand it to the downstairs reception!”

The receptionist glanced over at the large, male security guard who was now walking over, “And my boss will have my head if I let you upstairs.”

“Is everything ok here, Marcy?” the security guard rested his elbow on the reception desk next to MC.

“Yes, we’re ok here, Ralph,” Marcy waved her hand.

“I have a super sensitive, top secret, for the boss’ eyes only package here. I must deliver it upstairs,” MC pushed.

“Uh-huh,” Ralph raised his eyebrow. “I’ll tell you what - I have a super sensitive, top secret, machine with X-ray eyes here,” he gestured to the security gate before the elevators. “Why don’t we let the machine decide?”

“And if it passes, you’ll let me up?” MC questioned.

“No, your package will be allowed up,” he shook his head in disbelief.

While they were talking, the internal phone on the desk rang and Marcy answered it. “Yes, sir? Ah, yes, it is. Are you sure? Ok, I’ll send her up.” Marcy turned her attention back to Ralph. “Um, he said to let her up.”

“What? Really?” the guard did a double take.

Marcy shrugged, “He’s been expecting this package.”

It was MC’s turn to do a double take. Surely the target had no idea she was there. Hell, he didn’t even know she was there. Because if he had known, he would’ve tried to stop her. He told her to wait, but waiting was taking too long. She couldn’t wait any longer, not when she knew the information they needed was right there.

“So I can go then?” MC’s voice squeaked as it got caught in her throat.

“After you are cleared by us,” Ralph frowned and motioned for her to head to the security checkpoint.

MC nervously put the carton down on the conveyor belt, feeling all eyes on her. She had nothing to worry about though, the box was full of random irrelevant papers and files, most of them blank. There was nothing that would concern security. She watched as the carton moved up the conveyor belt and into screening before stepping forwards to go through the metal detector herself.

The detector beeped loudly, catching MC by surprise, but then she remembered she still had her phone, earphone and keys in her pocket. She dashed back to dump the contents of her pockets into a tray, then hastily pushed it onto the conveyor belt, before going through the detector again. This time she came up clean. MC glanced to Ralph who gave her a begrudging nod of approval before she moved to pick up her belongings again. As she picked up her phone, her phone buzzed. A notification popped up on the screen that she had missed call. Shoving her phone in her pocket, she held her earphone between her fingers as she collected the carton and moved onto the elevator.

“You’ll want to go to floor 44,” Ralph said as she walked past.

“Thank you,” MC nodded shyly, then quickly jumped into an open elevator before the doors closed.

The elevator was rather full, but MC was the only one heading to the top floor. She made her way to the back corner as the elevator stopped several times on the way up. As soon as she had some space, she leaned the carton against the handlebar so she could shove the earphone into her right ear just in time as her phone was ringing again.

“Um, hi. What’s up?” MC said meekly. A few of the other passengers turned to look at her, but rolled their eyes and went back to what they were doing.

<<Just wondering how it was going. You know, that thing with you family. What was it again?>> there was something about Jake’s voice that unnerved her.

“Uh, my cousin’s engagement party. Yeah, it’s good. It’s, you know, boring,” MC winced as she lied.

<<Uh-huh. And the aunt you haven’t seen in ages. She’s good too?>> he asked.

“Oh, yes! She’s great! Yeah, she’s great,” she nodded subconsciously. “Wh-what you up to tonight? I really miss you. Would’ve been nice to have you here to save me from this boredom.”

<<I’ve spent most of the afternoon getting into this mainframe,>> he explained vaguely.

“D-did you manage to get in?” MC started to panic as the elevator passed the 40th floor.

<<You could say that,>> he said flatly, giving her goosebumps.

MC glanced up at the CCTV camera in the corner of the elevator, unsure of who she was more afraid of watching her right then and there.

<<Don’t worry. Only I can see you right now,>> his voice dripped with anger.

“Hi,” MC grinned as the elevator beeped. “Oh, it’s my floor!”

<<MC!>> Jake tried so hard to not yell at her in that moment.

MC stepped out on the floor to yet another reception area. This one though had wide, sweeping windows behind it, overlooking the city. She couldn’t help but notice a familiar looking drone hovering in the distance.

“Um, can I help you?” the receptionist stood up in complete shock over the stranger in cheap, brown overalls walking towards her. “How did you get up here?”

“Your boss let me up here,” MC shrugged. “I have a package for him.”

“My boss? What package?” the receptionist shook her head. “Has that been cleared by security?”

“Yes, of course it has,” MC insisted.

“I don’t know how you got up here, but just leave it here and go,” the receptionist glared.

<<MC, this plan isn’t going to work. Give it up,>> Jake interrupted in her ear.

“Afraid I can’t do. It must be delivered to his office,” MC pushed.

<<MC! Don’t push your luck!>> he snapped. <<Get out of there before you get caught!>>

“Ugh, he’s not even in at the moment,” the receptionist pinched the bridge of her nose.

“That’s ok, I’ll just leave it on his desk,” MC smiled.

<<MC…>> he sighed. <<That’s not going to work.>>

“Can’t you just leave it in his personal meeting room or something?” the receptionist waved her hand. “I can’t let you into his office.”

“Uh, where’s that?” MC glanced around.

“In the back there,” the receptionist gestured. “I’ll take you.”

<<No way,>> he muttered.

“Oh, thank you! I feel like I would get lost if I tried to go by myself,” MC humoured as the receptionist came to the other side of the desk.

“It’s literally straight down the hall,” the receptionist pointed to the hallway in front of her.

“And I would still get lost!” MC laughed to herself as she followed.

“Um, ok,” the receptionist shook her head. She took out her security key card and unlocked the electronic lock on the meeting room door. “Here you are. Please leave it on the table.”

“Sure,” MC nodded and went into the room to put the carton on the table.

A strange thump sound caught her by surprise. She jumped and snapped back around to see the receptionist unconscious on the floor and a drone dart out of sight into an open air vent.

“What did you do!?” MC gritted her teeth.

<<Gave you an opportunity. You’re welcome,>> he said blandly.

“You could’ve killed her with a fall like that!” MC rolled her eyes and ran over to check the woman.

The receptionist was still breathing, but soundly asleep with a dart sticking out of her neck. MC snatched the dart and shoved it into her pocket before dragging the woman into the room. She grabbed her security pass, then quickly left the meeting room and closed the door behind her. With the security pass in her hand, she made a mad dash for the executive’s office. Hearing the door successfully unlock left a smile on MC’s face.

“And he said it couldn’t be done,” she whispered as she closed the door behind her.

<<I didn’t say it couldn’t be done,>> Jake corrected. <<I said you’re going to get caught. You’re not in the clear yet. And besides that, exactly how were you planning to lose your escort?>>

“Tell her I need to use the toilet?” MC thought out loud as she made her way to the large, mahogany desk in the middle of the room.

<<Please tell me you’re joking,>> MC could’ve sworn she heard him slap his palm onto his forehead over the microphone.

“I would’ve worked it out,” she insisted as she shuffled the papers on his desk.

<<Yes, of course,>> he sighed. <<Please don’t try to infiltrate a giant corporation without me again.>>

MC pursed her lips but couldn’t hold back the smile. “Ok, I promise.”

<<Good. Now please find something of value so this isn’t a wasted opportunity. Try the drawers. He’s not going to leave anything out in the open,>> Jake suggested.

"Right," MC tried to open the first drawer to no avail. "It’s locked."

<<Then pick it,>> he responded plainly.

“I couldn’t bring my picks past security,” she shook her head.

<<There are paperclips everywhere in that office. Find a couple of thin ones and get to it,>> he instructed.

“Yes, yes,” she rolled her eyes and picked a couple of clips from the documents on his desk. “Do you need me to do anything with his computer?”

<<No, your phone is close enough,>> he explained.

As MC straightened the clips enough to use as picks, she asked, “Are you in his machine?”

<<Yes, there’s nothing on here. Or if there is anything, it’s in heavily coded messages. It would take me weeks to make any connections,>> he sighed.

MC knelt and stuck the clips into the lock on the first drawer. After a minute, she finally managed to open the lock. She jumped up and tore it open. Rummaging through the plain documents, she couldn’t work out why anyone would keep them locked up.

<<Anything?>> Jake pushed.

“These are just invoices and random company notices,” she shook her head. “Why does he keep them locked up?”

<<Invoices for what?>> he questioned.

“Uh, this one is an invoice for rent paid,” she shrugged.

<<Rent for where?>> he pressured.

“Some warehouse downtown,” she commented as she looked it over for the third time.

<<Lay everything out on the desk and photograph it all. It’s going to be important - we just need to work out why,>> he confirmed.

MC took all of the documents and spread them out like a deck of cards across the desk, then pulled out her phone and started photographing them one by one as quickly as she could.

“You think this could be the break we need?” MC thought out loud while snapping the photos.

<<MC! Get out of there!>> Jake yelled over the microphone.

“I’ve got two more,” she objected and continued.

<<Now MC!>> he screamed.

The office door burst open abruptly and armed guards rushed at MC while she still had her phone in her hands.

“Get her phone!” the head of security ordered from behind.

One of the guards came around the desk and forced her to bend over, slamming her head into the desk. Her phone was knocked out of her hand and picked up by a second guard.

“Wait, please let me-“ MC began, but she was interrupted by the butt of an assault rifle hitting her head.

To be continued...

#duskwood #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood jake #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood fanfic

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pasdasin · 3 months

Text

Entanglement ch 3

levi x reader

summary: meeting again after a while

cw: cussing, violence, bad writing and grammar, prob more (lmk)

an: I love writing this so much! Lmk if y’all think I should post on ao3

read under the cut

previous — next

“Jean unhand her,” Levi commanded, his mind moving a million miles and hour.

“But captain-” Jean was silenced by a glare coming from the captain. Begrudgingly, Jean let you go and you quickly stood up. The two of you stared at each other for a second before you pounced on Levi. Beating his chest weakly as you screamed incoherently. His team prepared to remove you from him, but the guilt was all over Levi’s face. You let out a sob before you wrapped your arms around him. Without any other word to his team, the two of you left towards the master bedroom.

Levi sat you on the bed while he stood up by the door. All it took was a simple look at you before he felt everything rush back. The many nights spent together and the painful memories of his friends.

“You still look the same”

“It’s been seven years, Levi…” You said after calming a bit. “I thought you were dead.”

“So did I” An eerie silence fell amongst you two. The two of you just inspecting each other. Levi looked much older despite his age. Only 26 yet had the face of an old man. Strange really, how much fate had changed both of your lives.

“Did you get the package to?” Levi questioned you. Your eyes widened. “I’ll take that as a yes”

“Why are you here?” You finally spoke up. Your gaze burned holes into him.

“We are both in danger. I needed a place to lie low.” Levi turned his head to stare at the broken mirror on the wall adjacent to him.

“Oh,” you sighed. “You want to stay here?” Levi let out a hum. “Okay, they can stay in…” your voice trailed off. “I thought all three of you died.” Levi turned to you again before wordlessly leaving the room.

----

Levi returned to the living room to direct his squad. The boys will stay in the room on the left, the girls the right. Levi then spouted out some basic rules that they would have to follow. After a while of his mini lecture of the underground, a knock at the door occurred. Levi ordered them in a hush to go to their assigned rooms before he made action to open the door. As he was about to turn the door knob, your hand grabbed his, putting a finger telling him to hide. The moment Levi disappeared and you made sure that the cost was clear inside, you opened the door. Outside stood Conrad.

“Oh my dear sorry for not letting you know I was stopping by!” His voice boomed throughout the house.

“Oh sir! I’m so sorry to keep you waiting, please come inside.” You let in your boss, putting up a cheerful facade. You pulled out a drink for him as he made himself comfortable on your broken couch.

“I see this couch needs to be replaced. I will be sure to find someone who can do that for you.” You handed him the drink and offered a smile as a thank you. “Now the reason for my visit. You see I thought I could discuss your future in the business. You by far are the most popular girl in the whole joint. I was thinking that you could continue to be my bookie while also only being visited by my top dollar connections.” You froze at the suggestion.

“You want me to prostitute myself out?” Your voice was meeker than you liked it.

“Well I guess that’s one way to put it. This is a one time condition It’s just once, tomorrow.”

“I don’t know what to say…”

“Okay I will decide for you, as your boss it is a command. You will sleep with Titus O’lare.” Your boss put a hand on your shoulder. “If you are lucky, he even offered you above-ground citizenship.” With that, Conrad had left and you stood still in the living room. A hand touched your shoulder and you turned to see Levi.

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi aot #levi x reader

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catierambles · 1 year

Text

Fated Ch.4

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Clara Tunney (OFC)

WC 891

Warning: I cried writing this, you might too Minors DNI 18+ ONLY

@brattymum96 , @ouroboros113 , @peaches1958 , @summersong69 , @henryownsme , @eldarwen333 , @omgkatinka , @identity2122

Walter pushed into the house and kicked the door closed behind him, idly throwing his keys onto the kitchen island. The BOLO so far had no leads and it looked like Daniel Marks had gone underground. He didn’t have a cellphone or debit card that they could track, staying almost completely off the grid and the US didn’t have CCTV that other countries had so they wouldn’t be able to catch him out and about.

“How was it today?” He asked the two Sergeants that were sitting on the couch, watching a movie.

“It was quiet.” Jones said, “She barely left the bedroom, only coming out to put away the cold stuff she ordered and collect the packages she got.”

“She got groceries?” He asked, going into the kitchen and seeing the plastic bags on the floor of dry goods. She probably hadn’t known where to put them. Opening the fridge, he saw the milk, eggs, and butter that hadn’t been in there before and he made a small sound. He’s been meaning to pick more up, just hadn’t had the time. Thoughtful. “What else did she get?”

“Some stuff from amazon.” Williams said, “Don’t know what, she vanished into the bedroom again with the boxes.”

“Other than that, she didn’t come out?” He asked but they shook their heads. “Not even to eat?”

“She took a shower not too long ago.” Jones said and he mentally patted himself on the back for having the foresight to get two female officers to look after her while he was gone. “Anything else, Sir?” She asked as they got up from the couch and he shook his head.

“Nope, that’s it. Thank you.” He said and they nodded.

“Any time, it was an easy day for us.” Williams said and Jones snorted. He walked them out and locked the door behind them, pausing for a moment before heading into the bedroom. Clara was sitting at the computer with the headset on and he saw the open boxes on the bed, going over and looking in them, seeing the pack of t-shirts as well as the small clothes and socks. Her hair was still wet from her shower and was clipped at the back of her head. She was no longer wearing the clothes he had given her, instead wearing a pair of pajamas that he figured she had also ordered.

“Hey.” He said, wiggling the back of the chair slightly, and she pulled the headset off, letting it hang around her neck. He could hear heavy rock music coming through the headphones and he made a mental note as to her music tastes.

“Hello.” She said and he moved aside one of the boxes, sitting down on the bed.

“Saw you got some things.”

“Nothing extravagant, don’t worry.” She said, still looking at the monitor.

“Thank you for getting some basic groceries.”

“You paid for it.”

“Thank you anyway.”

“No problem.” She said and silence descended between them before he cleared his throat.

“Clara, I want to talk to you about what happened this morning.” He said and saw her still briefly.

“Okay.” She said, resting her chin in her hand.

“I’m sorry.” He said and she blinked slightly in confusion, looking at him out of the corner of her eye.

“Okay?”

“I’m supposed to be looking after you, not sticking my tongue down your throat.”

“Okay.” She said, blinking slowly, turning her eyes forward again.

“I know you said you wanted me to, but your judgment is clouded right now. You’re in a vulnerable state and as I said, I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“Okay.”

“It was a mistake, Clara, and it’s not going to happen again.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Goddamnit, she was pulling inward again and it was his fault.

“Don’t shut yourself off, Clara.”

“I’m fine, Walter.” She said, “Was there anything else?”

“No.” He said after a moment with a sigh, “No, that was it.”

“Okay.” She said and put the headset back on, effectively ending the conversation. He sat there for a moment longer, but she ignored him and he got up with another sigh, leaving the bedroom and closing the door behind him. Once he was gone, Clara all but ripped the headset off, a sob forcing its way up her throat as tears sprang to her eyes and her chest felt like it had been cleaved in two. It was irrational for her to feel this way, this devastated by his sudden rejection of her. Maybe he was right and she wasn’t in her right mind. She wanted to run, run far away, from him, from anyone. She missed her family and her twin brother, but they (with the exception of her brother) were all twisted into wrong thinking. Besides, she had no way of getting into contact with her brother without her parents finding out, and the last thing she wanted was for them to turn up and for him to get into trouble. He’s suffered enough because of her.

She did eventually cry herself dry, but the pain in her chest didn’t go away so she shut down the computer and climbed back into bed after clearing off the boxes, curling under the covers after unclipping her hair and closing her eyes.

#henry cavill #walter marshall #fated #my writing

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newpersonteeth11 · 1 year

Text

Matty Caron (Pt. 1)

Outline:

You were sitting in the large board room on the 64th floor, when the CEO came in wearing nothing but a jockstrap on a leash of Matty Caron.

He looked innocent, so you hired him. That night, you found him in bed with your wife. You knew your life as a fag slave would continue. Your wife got pregnant, but he didn't give a shit and you were forced to raise his child, who later inherited his alpha genes and mercilessly bullied you.

Prelude:

As a kid, Matty terrorized the school, leaving numerous kids with serious injuries, and multiple girls, and their mothers, pregnant. He coasted by on his good looks, and his ability to beat up anyone that tried to defy him.

Present:

You were the CEO of UltraNova Technologies, a $500 million company. You began looking for a new assistant, after your last assistant resigned after you sexually harassed her (with a $100,000 settlement). One of the candidates was a Matthew R. Caron.

As soon as Matty walked in, you fell in love with his beautifully powerful muscles bulging out of his shirt, and his stunningly gorgeous face. Your cock began to grow as soon as you saw him, but you covered it with a portfolio. Instead of being your usual rude and cocky self, you stuttered, shyly, asking him, "Um. Well, uh, um, I-uh, Why, uh, should we, um, hire you, Mr. Caron?" you asked, hesitantly, staring at his biceps.

"I mean, look at me" he said narcissistically. "We both know the job is mine, a better question is, why should I join you?" You were astonished at his ego, but his muscles deprived you of your resistance. "Well, uh, our company is, uh, a, um, a leader in its, uh, its field." you stuttered out. "Salary" he asked, cutting you off. "Our, uh, compensation packages are, uh, very, well, very, uh-" you were cut off again by Matty. "Number, Now!" "$60,000 a year, sir" you replied, in an almost robotic manor. "Really?" he almost laughed. He walked up to you, you cowering at his powerful frame. He grabbed your half-erect cock, "Well it looks like you're at half mast, so let's pump that number up, right boy?" he said, smugly.

He pulled off his shirt, watching your cock grow to its full erect size of 2". "Look at that puny little nub, standing up straight for its master." he laughed. You started to move your hand, until you heard "Don't touch it until I say," Matty commanded, "Now close the blinds and kneel on the floor." he ordered, you immediately did so and kneeled before him.

He ripped off your underwear, revealing your erect little nub. "Listen, before you can wank off to this perfect fucking body, you are going to do somethings. First, what's you salary?" he ordered. "Well, it's uh, it's well, um-" he slapped you across your faggy face,

"If you don't use your words, you'll regret it. Believe me." he roared ominously. "It's $9 million, sir" you said timidly. "Ha, that's cute. Double it, and then maybe we can talk about getting me on board. And unless you're ready to play with the big dogs, you better step aside, no salary." you stared at his muscles in silence, he slapped you again, "Huh?" he said arrogantly, "Yes, sir." you replied uneasily. "That's right. Keep it up and you'll regret it. I don't tolerate insolence or disobedience." he bellowed. "Yes, sir" you replied again.

"Good boy, you can touch." As soon as he said that, you began wanking as fast as you could, desperate for that sweet release.

You looked away for a second, before he slapped you, "Don't look away, nothing is ever, ever more important than me. Understand that?" you were wanking, but between your frantic breaths you got out, "Yes, sir". He slapped you again, "Hands off now, fag" he ordered. You submitted to his will without question, as though his every word was divine scripture. Your cock was twitching with need, and you knew you needed it, you couldn't survive without it, you began begging, "Please sir, just one stroke. Please, have mercy. Have pity, please sir." you were cut off, as he used his hands to tell you to shut up.

"Just one stroke" he said, gently grazing your ultrasensative nub, causing you to almost cum. "Just one stroke" he said again, smirking, as he teased the tip of your nub, dripping with pre-cum. "Fine, on one condition." you were sweating, unable to hold your desire in.

"I'll do anything" you begged. "Say what you are. It's that easy. Just say what everyone truly knows, that you're a fat, pathetic, worthless, faggot, who's only purpose in life is to serve me. Just say those magic words, and I'll let you stroke." he sadistically ordered, flexing his powerful muscles.

You stared at his muscles as you said, almost whisper quiet, "I'm a fat, pathetic, worthless, faggot, who's only purpose in life is to serve my master." you were on the verge of tears when you said it, but you said it so you could pleasure yourself.

"Now, may I please wank, sir? Please?" he looked you up and down, taking one finger and teasing your cock, making you want to cum.

"No" he replied, smirking. "What, but you said" you were slapped so hard you fell to the floor.

"I said what?" he asked. "Because I don't recall that." "And I'm always correct, aren't I, fag" "Yes, sir", you responded dissapointedly. "Now, I'm going to watch you struggle as I tease you, until you go insane.

After an hour, of watching you squeam and suffer, he decided to finally stop, but he ordered you to never look away from him unless he commanded, keeping you hard. You became but a slave to Master Matty, caged, because "fags" don't have any use for a cock, and completely under Matty's control

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theflowerofthecommonwealth · 2 years

Text

Power Armor Punch Part Thirty Three

Masterlist

Customer: I'll buy some more for the road. *puts down a few more caps and grabs a few different types of candy* Whoever makes these does it really well.

Geneveve: Why, thank you... I try my best.

Customer: You made all this?!

Geneveve: Well. Not the building, but I did make a package the candy.

Nick: *quietly watching her*

Jasmine: (Makes another frustrated groan at herself, tugging on her hair as she stares down at her feet. She wants more chems… Her body and mind is practically aching for them. Its making her restless, like there is something missing)

Nick: I'm sorry, doll. You're not getting any chems... I can inquire Lucille if we have any addictol in stock to help you kick this faster. *gently rubbing her shoulder*

Jasmine: (Lets out a deep breath through gritted teeth. Years of this stuff being pumped in her, then putting it in herself. It made her feel light and airy, free from the pain. Now she doesn't have it…)

Nick: *sighs and comes to the conclusion that addictol won't work on her either... never easy with this this one, is it...?*

Jasmine: (She wants any sort of chems so bad, thankfully Nick got rid of all her stashes otherwise she might make a mad dash for it. She is not prepared to go cold turkey, its starting to make her break out into cold sweats now and tremble more. If she wasn't so resilient, she might have fainted already) (Quietly) “Bloody hell…” (Tugging harder on her hair as she clenches her jaw)

Nick: *pulls her into a hug to help give her some sort of stability* You'll get through this...

Customer: So then it's not handmade?

Geneveve: Well I have hands and I came up with the recipe myself so-

Customer: You're a machine....

Geneveve: Sir... *takes a deep breath* Yes. I'm a machine. But I worked hard to perfect my recipes despite my mechanical nature. If you don't like that about the store, you can simply leave and never do business here again. So what will it be, sir?

Jasmine: (Leans her head on Nicks shoulder, pulling her hands away from her hair so she does not tear it out from the roots) (Quietly, her voice shaking just as much as her body) “Feels like shit…”

Nick: I know, doll... You're going to for a little bit, but in the long run you'll be so much better for it.

Geneveve: *insulted glare*

Customer: Okay-! I'm sorry! Don't kill me, please! It's just candy! *raises their hands and backs out the door*

Geneveve: *covers her mouth in reconsideration then reaches out pleafully* No, wait! I wasn't- *realizes they're already gone. Quietly* Why...? *hangs her head* Am I that terrifying...?

Jasmine: (Whispering) “I always feel like shit… just more now…” (Shifts a little, sighing deeply while her teeth chatter. Somehow she feels both cold and hot at the same time, its really uncomfortable combined with the new body aches)

Nick: This isn't going to last forever...

Geneveve: *covers their face*

Jasmine: (Whispering) “Seems like it will…” (Puts her arms on Nick to hug him back, closing her eyes and wincing in pain slightly at the movement)

Nick: It isn't...

Geneveve: No- it was just one customer. Perhaps the next will go better. *moves her hands down to her cheeks and gives them a light slap to help ease her nerves*

Angry person: *comes in* HEY. DID YOU THREATEN MY FRIEND?!

Geneveve: I- I'm sorry-?

Angry person: The guy that just came in here- what did you say to him?!

Geneveve: I simply told him he could leave if he didn't like the way the sweets were made. Please calm down-

Angry person: Who gave you the RIGHT, SYNTH?! Telling humans what to do!

Geneveve: I was giving him an option, not an order- please, I meant no harm!

Angry person: Heh! Right! "Meant no harm" my ass!! Just doing your job, huh, you monster?!

Geneveve: *eyes widen then she looks down. She doesn't answer*

Jasmine: (Opens her mouth to say that other people have said that to her and it never does, but she just shuts it with a small choked whimper) (Mumbling) “Hurts…”

Nick: Ssh... *gently rubs her sides. Softly* It's darkest just before the dawn...

Angry person: *grabs them by their dress straps* ANSWER ME, SYNTH!!

Geneveve: *terrified. Eyes wide with fear* I-I... Y-yes-

Angry person: You like KILLING people, SYNTH? I bet this candy's poisoned!

Geneveve: No! I would never-

Angry person: *shoves her into a wall and before Geneveve can get up, they're standing over them with a knife drawn*

Geneveve: Stop! Please! I don't want to hurt anyone-!

Jasmine: (Lets out a choked tearless sob, clinging onto Nick tighter as he rubs and comforts her soothingly) (Quietly) “Daddy… It-… hurts… everything…” (She can pinpoint exactly what and its a damn long list. she just wants to say it out loud… it felt better to say it out loud than keep it bottled in…)

Nick: Anything I can do to help, doll?

Angry person: *crouches and gets ready to stab her*

Lucille: *grabs their hand* And just WHAT the absolute F*CK are you doing to my daughter?!

Angry person: *looks over their shoulder in fear* Wh- Y- your daughter?! This thing-?!

Lucille: *twists their arm in an unnatural angle, pulling them to their feet* I never want to see your face again in Vault 88, got it?! We don't tolerate this behavior here.

Angry person: *gulps* Y-yes, ma'am...!

Lucille: *releases them*

Angry Person: *runs away in a panic*

Geneveve: *covering their face*

Lucille: Geneveve...? *kneels down* Come on, darling. Let me help you up. *extends her hand*

Geneveve: *voice breaks* I wasn't trying to hurt anyone, I swear-!

Lucille: I know, sweetheart. I know...

Geneveve: ... They called me a monster... I suppose I did kill before... but I'm not that synth anymore. I'm not... I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. *shakes their head* Why are humans so hateful? Why?

Lucille: Not all of us are... Same as how not all Synths heartless killing machines. *holds up her robot hand- the one that used to be Nick's*

Geneveve: What...? *notices the hand and arm then looks at her human left* How...?

Lucille: Lost my arm and left eye during a mission. There wasn't a doctor for miles so Detective Valentine did what he could to help us both get out of that situation alive... Just because you're a synth doesn't make you a monster.

Jasmine: (Nuzzles in his shoulder with another strained whimper of pain and discomfort, leaning heavily onto Nick once again) (Quietly mumbling) “I do not know… hurts… please don't leave me…”

Nick: Don't worry. I'm staying right here.

Jasmine: (Takes in a deep breath, sniffing on some small tears dotting her eyes) (Quietly) “Thank you… love you…”

Nick: Of course, doll...

Geneveve: I see... *reaches up and takes her mom's robot hand*

Lucille: *stands, helping her up*

Geneveve: *hugs her, needing that comfort again* I need to feel respected...

Lucille: Then demand it.

Geneveve: That might lead to my destruction. *clutches Lucille tighter*

Lucille: Better to die fighting, then...

Jasmine: (Hums sweetly, blinking on her tears that she does not want to fall) (Softly, to assure herself) “Daddy…” (Yup. Still felt unreal, and undeserving. Even more so with her pounding, murky head)

Nick: Please try not to cry... You're dehydrated enough as it is...

Jasmine: (Quietly) “I am trying… but it hurts.” (Hides her face in his coat collar, not letting the tears fall but she sniffing a lot)

Nick: *tired sigh*

Jasmine: (Gently squeezes Nick tighter, not lifting up her head so she can focus on the sound of his inner machinery)

Nick: *wondering how long this will keep going... he's had difficult clients but none quite like Jas*

Jasmine: (Her breathing starts to even out while she clings tightly to Nick, whimpering softly but still not crying) (Mumbling) “Thank you…”

Nick: *quietly nods* Of course, doll.

Jasmine: (Sighs deeply in Nicks coat, squeezing her eyes tightly. She is tired as fuck but also restless as fuck, not a good combination to have when you already have severe insomnia… God, she is really fucked up isn't she? Maybe not even worth all the trouble in the end…)

Nick: *part of him wishes for both of their sakes this all ends soon...*

Jasmine: (Mentally scolds herself for those blasted thoughts. She already fought so hard to get here alive, not worth giving up just for a bad moment… Like Lucille had said, it would be like letting those bastards win and get the best of her)

Nick: *but he has to endure for her sake...*

Jasmine: (Snuggles into his coat so she is more comfortable, relaxing herself completely. If her restless mind and shaking body would let her, she would fall fast asleep. But she will settle for the drowsy half rest)

Nick: *And trying to help her get better*

Jasmine: (Just breathing evenly cuddled up against him, as close to sleep as she is gonna get for now)

Lucille: *walks in after a few hours discussing the walk to Goodneighbor and contingency plans if they run into any enemies with Geneveve*

Geneveve: And you're absolutely sure they won't find me if I hide...?

Lucille: If they do, give them a face full of this bad boy right here... *hands her a gun and a decent bit of ammo*

Geneveve: Do you always just carry your entire arsenal with you?

Lucille: It comes in handy when you're out there. Better to have plenty than none at all. *sage smile*

Nick: Sounds like they've returned to the agency...

Jasmine: (Her eyes slowly blink open from her somewhat restful half sleep, turning her head to look up at Nick)

Nick: Sounds like they're heading to Goodneighbor... I might consider going with them if we want this case to start moving along.

Jasmine: (Just blinks rapidly a few times, shooing away the sleepiness and fogginess from her head with a yawn)

Nick: How are your wounds...? Your symptoms?

Jasmine: (Tilts her head in consideration. Well, she has no idea how she is suppose to be feeling and how much pain is too much pain. What she is feeling now is perfectly manageable discomfort and stinging) (Quietly) “It is fine…”

Nick: Are you sure...? *raises an eyebrow* Try to stand right now...

Jasmine: (Slowly pulls back from his embrace and shakily stands on her own, tilting her head to one side again) (Signing) “You know I have walked in way worse conditions, right?”

Nick: Sadly, I know... *concerned* Will you be able to run if things get bad?

Jasmine: (Nods her head, sitting back down on the sofa) (Signing) “I can also fight just as well.” (Blinks a few times at a thought) (Quietly) “I ran from Salem all the way to the factory after those raiders took ahold of me, then put up a pretty good fight against you. I will be fine.”

Nick: *after a moment of quiet contemplation* Let's get more salve on those stitches, some fresh bandages, and some more water in you before we go...

Jasmine: (Quietly) “Okay…” (Starts moving slowly to pull off her shirt once again, already dreading the sight of the stitches)

Nick: *already getting up and grabbing the salve and fresh bandages*

Lucille: How do you feel about armor?

Geneveve: I might need it... this dress isn't exactly... protective.

Lucille: Armor it is, then. *grabs some decent leather armor from her stash*

Jasmine: (Gets her shirt off with minimal pain, immediately sighing and gripping her wrists at the sight of the bandages)

Nick: *comes back with a fresh rag too to clean her stitches and immediately gets to work* Lets get this over with quickly... *gently but quickly pulls off the bandages, frowning at the blood and puss from the wounds that are starting to heal over* You had a little infection starting to set in but I think this stuff Curie made took care of it.

Jasmine: (Winces at the sight of her stitched up self with a little whimper, clutching her stuffed bear tightly in one hand)

Nick: *starts cleaning the wound and applying the salve to them gently*

Jasmine: (Yelps loudly and hisses in pain, her entire body tensing but she remains still on the sofa)

Geneveve: *immediately looks up at the loft above her* What was that? Is someone hurt? *starts to go check out the noise in concern*

Lucille: *grabs Gen's arm to stop her* No. Don't. I'm glad you're concerned about the wellbeing of others but I'm this case you'll only upset the patient- she's very jumpy.

Geneveve: I see...

Nick: It's okay. This will be over, soon, doll.

Jasmine: (Bites her tongue and weakly nods, shuffling a little from the stinging pain)

Nick: Almost done. *applies the last bit of salve she needs and starts bandaging her up*

Jasmine: (Hisses again through gritted teeth when the last bit of salve is applied, turning her wide eyes up at Nick so she isn't looking down at the mess of herself anymore)

Nick: *very neutral focused expression as he applies the new gauze and bandages. He's in full field medic mode at the moment*

Jasmine: (Just stares up at her Dad while doing her best to remain still, her face twisting in pain as she clutches her stuffed bear tighter)

Nick: *completely quiet as he finishes reapplying the bandages, almost as if he doesn't acknowledge her pained expression*

Jasmine: (Blinks a few times, the expression remaining. Its more surprising to her when people acknowledge her pain or wounds rather than ignore it. So him not saying anything is more normal and expected to her)

Nick: There. All patched up. *finally notes her pained expression* Anything I can do...?

Jasmine: (Sucks in a deep breath, shaking her head) (Quietly) “Nothing you can do…” (She moves to slip back on her shirt, but pauses right before) (Signing) “Anyway I can get back my jacket?” (She took it off before the surgery, and it just vanished with the rest of her bloodied clothes. They all had been padded for travel, which she did by hand)

Nick: Sure, doll... sure. *walks off to get her jacket, hoping she doesn't do anything to herself in the meantime*

Jasmine: (Snatches her teddy bear and holds it close to her chest while leaning back, afraid to even look down at herself or move to put on the shirt)

Nick: *comes back shortly with her jacket* Here we are, doll...

Jasmine: (Sits back up and places her bear besides her, taking the jacket from Nick) (Quietly) “Thank you…” (Slowly and carefully slips on her shirt, zipping up the jacket over it. Its a pretty thick and sturdy jacket, it almost feels like its wrapping her body in a tight protective hug, giving her a sense of more security)

Nick: *Nods and checks his ammo for his guns* Just let me know when you're ready to head out... *eventually starts to head downstairs to ask Lucille if they could tag along*

Jasmine: (Touches her head with a small frown, feeling that the braided bun Nick had done for her was frizzling and coming apart. She starts to undo it with her fingers, putting the bobby pins in her pocket)

Nick: Hey, I heard you two are going to Goodneighbor. Mind if Jas and I tag along?

Lucille: You sure she can handle traveling? What if she has one of her... episodes.

Nick: Don't act like that... she's made a lot of progress. I think she can handle traveling in a group.

Geneveve: *quiet and nervous*

Jasmine: (It always makes her feel somewhat bad to ruin a hairstyle done by someone else, mainly because such love and care was put into it) (Quietly) “Stupid. Its just hair….” (Starts unbraiding the braids, twirling her fingers through her curls to give them some bounce back)

Geneveve: *looks down* You're certain she won't be too afraid of my appearance?

Nick: What- if she were afraid of your appearance, what business would she have hanging around me? *jabs his thumb at himself*

Geneveve: So then what was she so afraid of earlier...?

Nick: New people, especially considering she was in a weakened state... she'll very very slowly warm up to you when she realizes you're not a threat.

Jasmine: (Decides to leave her hair loose for now so her scalp can finally breathe for a little while, its been tied up way too long. She will braid or tie it up right before they leave. Slowly she stands, gathering her stuffed bear and knitting project off the couch)

Geneveve: Is this a common occurrence? Perceiving people as threats?

Nick: *tiredly* Yes, unfortunately...

Lucille: And she's more miserable for it.

Nick: Well, we've got a long walk ahead of us. Once you get Geneveve settled in Goodneighbor, there's Jas's case I gotta close.

Lucille: You interested in traveling together for this one, Val?

Nick: Considering you're the best partner I've had in a long time, I think it goes without saying.

Lucille: *excited smile*

Jasmine: (Fidgets with her curls with one hand, draping some of it over her shoulders. She misses keeping it down and loose… its so pretty this way) (Quietly) “Until someone decides to yank it…” (Pops her Pipboy on her arm then slowly makes her way down the stairs, walking straight over to Nick with a small glance at the other two)

Nick: Hey, kiddo! Ya ready to go?

Lucille: She's going to need something to defend herself. *smiles at her hair as she goes to pull out an unmodded 10 mm pistol and a switch blade* You look nice, by the way. *hands it to Jas*

Nick: Make sure you only use that on assailants, got it?

Geneveve: *admiring Jas's hair quietly in the corner. She's covered in leather and metal armor for her own safety despite being a machine. It looks a little odd considering she's still wearing a dress*

Jasmine: (Nods her head at Nick while taking the gun and switchblade from Lucille, putting them in her jacket pocket) (Quietly) “Thank you…” (Grabs her bag, feeling how light it is while she puts her teddy bear and knitting project inside. She is aware that they are all looking at her hair, but she doesn't really mind)

Geneveve: *sighs a little longingly* I wish I had hair...

Nick: Might not be wise. Might get in places you don't want... *taps his exposed jaw*

Geneveve: I see... *looks down with a slight forlorn sigh*

Lucille: Anyway. Shall we get a move on?

Jasmine: (Gives Geneveve a quick “No you don't” look with a bit of sadness in her eyes. Having hair, especially long hair, drew more attention… unwanted attention) (Quietly) “I am ready…” (Slips on her bag over her shoulders looking at Nick)

Nick: Then let's get going... *starts for the hall leading out of the Agency*

They wind and navigate through the rocky halls of what loosely defines Vault 81, heading straight for the subway tunnel Lucille had earlier renovated. There sits a small room with a ladder leading to the outside of the vault.

Jasmine: (Stays close by Nick as she follows along, her mind already snapping into Wasteland survival mode… trained solider mode. No more crying little girl)

@lucilleandherrobots

#fallout #fallout 4 #fo4 #fallout oc #fallout original character #nick valentine #dogmeat

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