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ciginatree · 11 days ago

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Cyberhex

Chapter Two

Summary: First, was the Divine Infection, a brutal act of biological terrorism released in coastal California. Then, came The Spores. Born from a cure gone wrong, it ravaged the human race by attacking, puppeteering, and eventually: killing. In the rubble, Cyberhex works to survive and recover the world, hoping that they aren't the only ones.

Series Content Warnings (will be updated as chapters progress): death, descriptive gore, angst, grief, suicide, mental health struggles, language

Chapter Word Count: 2.4k

Author's Note: I'm so sorry it took this long to get the second chapter out. I've done more storyboarding and am more on top of it now, so the chapters should be coming out faster. Enjoy!

This story is a complete work of fiction portraying the likeness of a real person or persons in a fictional situation.

“Welcome to Cyberhex.” Verin drops down out of the helicopter, a slight pain radiating from her ankle and back upon impact. She hisses and straightens, palm caressing the dip just above her ass. The buildings look so… ordinary. Well, as ordinary as a base can be; there’s no decay, no overgrowth. Ryan and Ricky brush past her and Verin’s eyes follow their path to a door firmly implanted into what looks like a shed. Something bumps her shoulder and she jolts, turning her head. Her backpack, held up and out to her by Chris.

“Thank you.” She slips the straps through her arms and clips it over her chest. Chris nods and continues after his team, leaving her with Justin and the aircraft. The air is left with a metallic hum, an afterthought of the deafening helicopter ride. An oscillating tone drowns her ears and fills her head, pressuring just behind her eyes. Damn.

“Just you and me, huh?” Justin comments, checking the aircraft for any scuffs or dents from their previous escapades. Verin hesitates.

“I guess, I mean- I don’t really know where I’m supposed to go,” she replies, voice foreign and far away, buried beneath the start of her headache. Justin chuckles, the rag landing with a dull thud in a bucket to the side as he tosses it.

“Don’t worry I’ll take you through sanitation; we’ll give you the tour from there.”

“Sanitation? But I thought I was clean- the scanner-”

“We need to sanitize for anything else you might have picked up. Who knows when a new outbreak could happen. Chris likes to be prepared.” Justin steps past Verin, dusty boot imprints embedding on the roof tiles. She follows, taking one last look at the phthalo pines before stepping through the steel shed door. Inside is a rusty stairwell, an elevator just to the left of it. Nothing more, nothing less. Verin looks on in confusion before stepping towards the elevator doors. Justin’s hand latches onto the loop at the top of her backpack, yanking her back towards the stairs.

“Nuh- uh, you only get to take the elevator after you’ve been sanitized. C’mon.” Hand still on the back of her bag, they trudge down the flights of grated stairs. Each step sounds like a gunshot in the empty stairwell, grubby boots leaving faint tracks of mud on the flaking rust. After a few flights, Justin leads her off the stairs and onto the landing, stopping in front of a bolted door. A standard ID scanner lays silent to the left of the handle and Justin procures a blank card, tapping it to the black plastic. A flashing beep and mechanical click startle Verin and she takes a step back. Justin tugs on the handle, the door swinging open to reveal a poorly lit hallway. It looks like…a hospital. An old one.

He leads her into a room, empty except for a pair of people in starchy white hazmat suits and thick rubber gloves. They hold what look like pressure washers, a bucket of soapy liquid off to the left. The room smells heavily of vinegar and Verin’s eyes water. Justin reaches an arm behind him to close the door. “Did Chris radio you?”

“Yes, sir,” responds the man on the left, his voice muffled.

“Good. Verin you… might want to take off your clothes unless you want them to get soaked,” Justin smirks. He sees her look of apprehension and rolls his eyes. “I won’t look, now c’mon.”

“Fine.” Justin turns and Verin strips, tossing her clothes onto the nearby table. Chills run over her arms and she crosses them over her bare chest.

“Turn around,” the suited man instructs and Verin obeys, facing the wall.

“So, how-” Verin shrieks as a spray of water jets into her back. She takes a few gasping breaths before settling into the feeling, the spray sweeping up and down her body. “Jesus, you could’ve warned me!”

The process takes less than ten minutes; one man sprays the water, the other- who turned out to be a woman -sponges her down with frothy soap and vinegar. Then rinse and repeat. Finally, the deafening spray slows to a drip and they toss her a towel. She quickly dries herself and tugs her clothes back on.

Justin turns around with a playful grin. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Verin glares at him and hikes her backpack onto her shoulders. “Don’t be like that, everyone has to do it.” He places a hand on the doorknob and swings it open, leading her out and down the hall.

“See, now you can use the elevator,” Justin chuckles. The two cleaners follow the pair down to the end of the hall where the long awaited, heavy, metal doors wait for them. Justin punches his knuckle into the down button and they wait in silence as the groan of old gears slowly ascends. The doors part to reveal a cramped, worn room that they all file into. Being squished behind Justin, the scent of chemical cleaner and oil stings her nose. She glances down and shifts her foot away from a sticky mess of dirt and some substance she doesn’t want identified.

“Have you ever cleaned in here?” She murmurs in disgust and Justin snorts.

“Can’t have anyone knowing there’s people in here can we?” The ding of arrival cuts off Verin’s retort and she peers around the men to see where they are.

“Holy shit,” she whispers. It’s so much bigger than she thought. It looks like some kind of warehouse- or airplane hanger; it’s huge. Desks and tables fill the empty space, dozens of people bustling between them. The air is filled with clicks and urgent chatter, footsteps echoing off the concrete floor. On the right hand side of the compound sit a row of cars with a closed garage door at the end of the line. “Where does that lead?”

Justin glances down to her, then follows her line of site to the heavily paneled garage. “Underground tunnels. Used a lot in military operations.”

“Military? I thought this was a campus or hospital. Where are we?” Verin takes quick steps to catch up to Justin’s strides.

He smirks before answering. “If I told you I’d have to kill you.” In stunned silence, Verin decides not to press; who knows if he’s joking or not? She follows his lead, weaving through tables and stepping over cables. Justin raises an arm and calls out something she can’t quite make out. Fin, maybe? A shorter man looks up from the papers he was pointing at and explaining to a man in uniform. The previous dismisses the uniformed man and approaches Verin and Justin with a boyish grin.

“Justin! Hey, man, how’d it go?” The man’s gaze flickers between the two of them, hand raising to brush chocolate curls away from his cheeks. His hand drops back down to his thigh and slips into the pocket of the cargo pants hanging low on his hips.

“Picked up this one-” Justin claps the back of her shoulder and she steps forward to balance herself.” “-other than that, it was uneventful.”

“No other…” The brunette trails off for a moment, glancing anxiously at Verin. His words are solemn and careful, no visible remnants of that charming smile that had put her at ease. “...no other survivors?” Justin shakes his and looks down.

“Combed the whole city, too. It’s getting harder to find people that are both clean and alive. The only reason we found her is because she plastered her window with a fucking sticky note SOS.” Brunette huffs a single laugh, lips twitching up in near disbelief as he switches his gaze back to Verin.

“Really? You’re one of the smarter motherfuckers we’ve found, then. I’m Vinny, by the way.” He holds out his hand. “Since Justin’s a prick and hasn’t introduced me.” Verin takes Vinny’s hand tentatively; he has rougher skin than she would have expected.

“I’m Verin. I- uh- I saw the broadcast and figured I should make myself visible. Hence the sticky notes,” she says sheepishly. Vinny withdraws his hand and crosses both over his chest.

“You saw the broadcast? What’d you think?” He asks with a prideful gleam of curiosity.

“Uh-”

“Vin’s our tech guy,” Justin explains. “A cocky one, too. He’s the reason the broadcasts actually get out to anyone at all.”

“How’d you even do that? I mean- is there a system you hack or-?” Vinny’s grin is back, thrilled to have someone to explain it to.

“You know those amber alerts or weather notices you get on your phone? How they’re sent out to everyone in the area? It’s FEMA Integrated Public Alert and Warning System. It targets devices within range of certain cell towers. All I had to do was access that sort of system and boom: I’m sending shit out to every device in range.”

“Huh,” Verin chimes, intrigued and acting like she knows what any of it means. Justin claps a hand on her shoulder and her body shudders from the force.

“As much as I’m sure she’d love to listen to you talk nerd shit all day, I have to show her to the bunks.” Vinny looks mildly disappointed, but raises a brief hand in parting as he turns back towards his mess of papers.

“Well, it was nice to meet ya. See you around.” Justin tips two fingers off the top of his head in a casual salute and steers Verin away from the bustling main room towards a side door.

“So, what do you think?” Verin peers up at him briefly.

“About Vinny or the facility?” Justin barks a short laugh.

“Either.”

“He’s cool. The facility’s big. How many people are here?”

“One hundred and nine including you. Wish there were more and wish there were less at the same time.” Justin slides his hand off her shoulder, sneaking a quick glance at his digital wrist watch before stuffing his hand into his jacket pocket. They approach a heavy, gray door- no clearance scanner this time- and enter through it into a long hallway. “Okay, you won’t be spending a lot of time in this area, but it’s useful to know anyway. The rooms down here are used as small med rooms, kind of like mini ERs. We have a couple doctors we’ve picked up and recruited along with a couple first responders. We don’t have any MRI machines or anything, but we have a decent amount of supplies.”

Verin stares wistfully at the closed doors. “I was going to school to be a first responder. Paramedic,” she says in a thoughtful daze. Justin slows and looks at her with a raised brow.

“Yeah? I’ll tell Chris. You might be getting a job after all.” Verin clears out of her nostalgic fog and a rush of excitement pours through her.

“Really? Serious?”

“I can’t promise anything. All I can promise is an interview and assessment. If Chris trusts you: yeah. You might get a med job, but it’s not gonna be anything like what you would’ve experienced as a paramedic. Not many injuries happen here besides our mechanics or the occasional sheltered being an ass and getting in a fight.”

“Sheltered?” Verin questions.

“Yeah, y’know, the civilians living here. The escapees, refugees, whatever you wanna call them.” Verin buzzes with hope and excitement at the prospect of being an on site medic, regardless of how often she would actually get to practice. They take a right and approach a door at the end of the hallway, card reader present. Justin shuffles slowly towards it as he wrestles the keycard out of his pocket, huffing as he taps it to the black box. “Okay, this is where you’ll be spending most of your time.” He wrenches the door open and holds it as she slides through. Inside is another large room, cafeteria style tables lined in rows throughout the space. On the far right is a kitchen fronted by a long serving counter.

The rest of the tour is uneventful. The civilian section consists of the cafeteria, a recreational room, a small gym equipped with various weights, a few stationary bikes, and a basketball hoop; and finally, the bunks. The room is by far the largest, with rows of old hospital style beds accompanied by a bedside dresser. A dozen or so people currently occupy the room, laid out on their beds or talking amongst themselves. Justin swerves around where Verin stands lost in the doorway and pats an empty bed. “This is you.”

Verin shifts her eyes around and she approaches the bed and drops her backpack beside it. “So…what do I do now?” She asks, a little intimidated.

“Rest. You’ll need it. And get some food; we’ll be giving you a meal card soon, but in the meantime just tell the kitchen who you are and that Justin says to give you food or he’ll beat their asses,” he says with mock sternness before dissolving into a smile. “See you later, newbie. I’ll be around if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” Verin says sincerely. Justin gives a two finger salute and turns on his heels, closing the heavy door behind him.

Gloved fingers turn the deadbolt to the office and makeshift room before tugging on the fraying chord, blinding the room to the outside world. Darkness encases the quarters until flickering light splits it open, an electrified hum buzzing dully. Chris sighs, rotating his neck and tossing his gear on the cot pressed against the wall. Tenderly, he zips open the breast pocket of his black canvas jacket and removes the crimped photo that resides there. He stares at it a moment, his padded finger framing the worn edge with a gentle touch. He lays the photo on his sunken pillow and rips off his jacket, hanging it in the single locker behind his desk. He stuffs the rest of his unwashed gear into the cramped space and slams the door with a rusty squeak. With heavy steps, he returns to his cot, flopping down onto his back with a grunt, and closes his eyes.

Tags: @abiomens @high-wire @spookieolson @rumoured-whispers @exitwoundsx @joyofbebbanburg @miss570

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ciginatree · 12 days ago

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Oooh imagine anyone of the Bad Omens Crew whoever you think fits this idea best with fem reader and Grabbing your hips and pretending to bang you when you bend over to grab or pick something up

I can't help it. This has Folio written all over it. Especially with his obsession with smacking his girl's ass 🤭🤭🤭

18+ below the cut

Tag list: @philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @theanarchymuse95 @thisbicc @lma1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @fadingintothegrey @an0mallly @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @mrsnoahsebastian @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @rumoured-whispers @myownthoughts12 @sister-sebastian

Folio loves your ass. There's no denying it. He's grabbing it, pinching it, smacking it, and kissing it every chance he gets, especially when you're in the shower or in the bed.

He likes to goof around with you. You're a lot of fun and feed his playful addiction like no other. While the guys roll their eyes sometimes and tell him to quiet, you're right there encouraging him.

So, between your ass and his playfulness, coming up behind you and acting like he's giving it to you from behind is a constant thing. At first, it was a little embarrassing, but the more he continued doing it, the more it became a thing for the two of you.

The first time Folio ever pretended to bang you from behind, it was shortly after you two started dating. You were at Matt's house, in the kitchen helping Davis cook. Folio wouldn't leave you alone, no matter how many times you told him to leave or get away from you. Dropping the spoon you were using to mix whatever was in your bowl, you bent over to pick it up when Folio came up behind you and grabbed you by the hips, pulling you into him as he thrusted into you, making the same grunts he made in bed. It took a lot of restraint not to feed into his playfulness. "Oh god, get a fucking room you two," Matt groaned, walking into the kitchen. Folio laughed, letting you go, as you stood there completely embarrassed.

Another time was before a show. You were backstage helping Noah with his mic and in-ear set up. Folio had been hinting to you all day how horney he was, but you shrugged him off. "Nick, you got it this morning. Leave me alone!" You shrieked when he pinched your ass. "Sweetheart, once is never enough with you. I could stay inside you all day." He pulled you in close, kissing you heatedly, and for a moment, you thought about giving into his need. "No," you said, pushing him away. "I'm busy. Go away! Noah needs help." You walked off, leaving Folio with his mouth hanging open. You moved the wire around Noah's shoulder, helping him slip his black shirt on, but dropped the other in-ear battery pack. You bent over to pick it up and felt the sting of a hand smacking your ass, as Folio grabbed you from behind and rutted against you over and over. He may have been playing, but the words he whispered in your ear had you so wet. "Imagining me fucking you like this for real, baby." It pulled a soft whimper from you, making him groan. "Folio, fuck man you need to her alone while she's working. You mess her up with that shit," Noah laughed, watching how disheveled you got.

Later that night, after the show, you got to your hotel room, only to find Folio in the shower. Wanting what he hinted earlier, you quickly undressed and joined him under the hot water, quickly getting caught up in his arms and kisses. It didn't take long before he had you out of the shower and face down on the bed with your ass up as he fucked you unmercifully from behind. As uncomfortable the position was, the feeling of your man filling you like he was overcompensating you for the discomfort was amazing. Between your moans, his curses, and the sound of your skin coming in contact, you came hard for Folio just as he did for you, pulling out and pushing you down, spilling his warm cum all over your clean back. "Fuck! I love fucking you like that," he confessed, completely out of breath.

After cleaning you up, he laid between your legs with his head on your chest, where his lips placed small kisses on your breast. Your fingers ran through his damp hair when they weren't running up and down his back, making him hum in satisfaction. "I love you," he whispered, circling one of your nipples with his tongue, making you softly moan his name. "I love you, too, Nick."

#i love this so much #nick folio #bad omens cult

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ciginatree · 12 days ago

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Listening on a loop while trying to desperately write a first draft of a humanities thesis about consumerism’s effects on the rock genre and community 👍

#help #please #it’s due in an hour #bad omens #bad omens band #bad omens cult #bad decisions #Spotify

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ciginatree · 13 days ago

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Sofa- Justin Morrow x Ricky Olson

Content Warnings: Fluff, anal sex, small spit kink?

Word Count: 1.1k

Request by @high-wire (sorry it took so long, you're a saint for being this patient)

This story is a complete work of fiction portraying the likeness of a real person or persons in a fictional situation.

“Babe! I’m home!” Ricky shouts through the entryway, voice echoing off of the pale, dusty blue walls. He kicks the door closed behind him and slides his leather jacket off his arms and onto the bar of coat pegs to the left of the front door. Left in his black hoodie and jeans, he ventures further into the house. “Babe?” Ricky calls out again, peering around the corner into the living room. An unmoving lump is laid across the couch and he smiles fondly to himself at the scene before him.

Justin’s head rests on the arm of their gray couch, his hand wedged under his cheek. His face is relaxed and his eyes are closed, soft breathing escaping his slightly parted mouth. Ricky walks around the couch, kicking his shoes off to the side, and slides into what little space is left on the couch in front of Justin. Ricky cuddles close to his chest and reaches down to pull the wool blanket that had collected at Justin’s hips up over the both of them. Justin stirs, inhaling deeply as his eyes squint open and closed. He wraps an arm around Ricky, instinctively pulling him closer, even in his sleep dazed haze.

“Hey, baby, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Ricky whispers, his fingertips raising to rake gently along the grain of Justin’s sandy brown scruff. Justin lazily shakes his head and sighs, sinking further into the couch.

“I don’t mind,” Justin says, voice strained and gruff as he stretches his leg along the length of the couch. Ricky smiles softly, lodging his leg between Justin’s.

“Good, ‘cause I don’t wanna move.” Ricky closes his eyes and lets the warmth of Justin’s arms wash away the lengthy, stress worn day. Justin’s fingers raise and slowly gather Ricky’s hair, bunching it between his palm and Ricky’s scalp before releasing the tufts and watching them scatter across his head. Ricky sighs into the feeling as Justin repeats the action, gliding his fingers through his boyfriend’s inky hair. As he gathers it once more, Justin dips his head down to press his lips into Ricky’s shoulder. His lips knead into his milky skin, carving their way up his neck. With his eyes still closed, Ricky drops his head to the side, allowing the slow, languid kisses to breach his weary demeanor. A hum rumbles through his throat, vibrating into the wet warmth pressed at his pulse point. Justin’s lips twitch up ever so slightly, dragging a longer path across Ricky’s skin.

A low exhale precedes more movement and finally, Justin finds his way to his boyfriend’s face. Ricky looks so calm, his eyes closed in content trust. Justin lowers down to kiss him. Ricky doesn’t hesitate as his lips soften and mold to Justin’s, letting him set the pace. The slow kisses quickly heat and Ricky’s hand finds Justin’s cheek, pulling him closer. Justin inhales deeply, exhaling a slow groan. Ricky’s heart pounds at the noise, the rest of the day forgotten as he presses his body against Justin’s, pushing him down underneath him. He clasps his other hand over Justin’s cheek and begins to rock his hips down, groaning and humming into Justin’s mouth.

As their tongues work against each other, Ricky begins to remove their clothes. First his pants, then Justin’s, then their shirts- breaking away for only a second -and lastly, their boxers. Ricky settles on top of his lover, hand propped on the arm rest of the couch above Justin’s head. He stares down at Justin, breaths leaving him in short puffs through parted lips as he lines himself up. He’s always loved the way Justin looks below him; so much bigger, but so vulnerable and needy. Ricky shifts, swiveling his head as his eyes sweep the room. “Fuck.”

“What?”

“Lube.” Justin lets out a deep rumble of a laugh and takes Ricky’s free hand, guiding it to his lips. Ricky watches as Justin spits down into his hand, the warm saliva coating his hand. Justin’s lips curl into an erotic smirk when Ricky’s eyes widen, and Ricky wastes no time wetting his dick. Eagerly, he presses his tip against Justin’s hole, flicking his eyes up to watch Justin’s face as he slowly pushes in. Justin takes a stuttering inhale and releases it with a moan, fingers curling around the edge of the couch cushions.

“Fuck,” Justin breathes as Ricky’s hips settle against his ass. “Oh, fuck…” Ricky’s body fevers, tongue darting out to lick his lips as strands of black hair slip down over his forehead. He lets out a deep hiss of breath, his hand trailing down to hike Justin’s thigh up over his waist. Ricky holds an inhale as he drags his hips back, his eyes roll and he lets out a choked moan before pushing back inside.

“Always so fucking tight,” he mutters in a strain. Justin drapes his forearm over his head, hand twitching and clenching as pleasure radiates through his body. He lets out small pants, back arching and he breathes out a sultry moan when Ricky picks up his pace. His hips pump steadily, lips drawn in a tight, focused line.

“Oh, god, Ricky…” Ricky tightens his grip on Justin’s thigh, hiking it further as he drops closer to Justin’s body. Sweat dews at the brim of Justin’s brow, lips cracking apart to moan and hiss. Ricky can feel the tension building deep in his gut, a coil winding tighter and tighter. He knows Justin can feel it too by the way he’s writhing and bucking his hips. Ricky reaches down, clasping Justin’s hand in his own, and raises it up over the armrest, forearms pressed together.

“Fuck,” Ricky breathes, dick throbbing and pulsing. He angles his hips and drives up into Justin’s sweet spot, gasping as Justin clamps down with a whimper. “Oh, god!” Every inch of the two men feels like they’re on fire. They shudder and groan, both so close to releasing. Justin clamps down again and Ricky’s mouth drops open to let go of an almost pained moan, muscles tightening as he finally cums.

Justin arches up into his boyfriend, cumming over their stomachs and chests with wide eyes and choked moans. Ricky pants, head dropped forward and he squeezes Justin’s hand before slowly pulling out with a whimper. He collapses on top of his chest, chest heaving alongside Justin’s. “God…” Justin breathes, settling his hands over Ricky’s back. He reaches down and grabs the blanket that lay trapped between their bodies and the side of the sofa, draping it over them both. “I’m not moving for at least an hour.”

Ricky hums in agreement, face smashed into Justin’s chest. “That’s fine, I like falling asleep naked anyway.”

Tags: @abiomens @high-wire @rumoured-whispers @exitwoundsx @spookieolson @joyofbebbanburg @eternallytiredsinger

#motionless in white #miw #miw band #rick olson #justin morrow #request #miw fanfic #miw fanfiction #ricky olson smut #ricky olson x justin morrow #justin morrow fanfiction #justin morrow smut #ricky horror olson #ricky olson fanfiction #ricky horror

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