#DW: Violence/Gore | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

reignpage · 2 months ago

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In Sheep's Clothing

Synopsis: in which you're alone in a cabin in the woods during a rough snow storm and an enigmatic, sexy wolf hybrid!Toji turns up at your door providing much more than his handyman service Warnings: plot with a side of porn, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, creampie, knotting, degradation, exhibitionism, voyeurism, masturbation, praise kink, rough sex, manhandling, cowgirl, thigh fucking, hair pulling, slight anal play, biting, dom!toji, blowjob, allusion to shower sex, dirty talk, dry humping, pussyjob, fingering, panty sniffing, cum eating, spanking, titty slapping, pussy slapping, biting, dumbification, primal play to the extreme, !!dark themes!! beware cannot emphasise this enough people (dw there's no gore or noncon or anything, it's just the nature of the plot), acts of violence, angst, fem!reader, romance, barely proofread Word Count: 19.9k (it's a lot I know I know sowwy)

Perhaps running away to the mountains and hiding in the woods wasn’t the greatest idea you’ve ever had. But it was the only one you had at the time. Your grandmother’s cabin is a little run-down, though that was expected considering how many years it had been since she passed, still, it has solid bones and you can’t complain.

It’s a two bedroom bungalow — spacious enough for a family, what with its generous kitchen and hearty fireplace, but far too small for you. Dust has settled on all imaginable surface and it took hours to remove the coverings on every sofa, chair, table, and bed, and even longer to wash everything that could be washed by hand, since the washing machine and dryer in the back room have long since given up on themselves.��

Most of your days since whisking yourself away here is spent dusting, washing, wiping, and cooking. You’ve yet to feel the dent you’ve been chipping away at. There’s still a draught coming from the front door, the main heating system isn’t working, and somewhere, in every corner, is an odd creaking that keeps you up at night.

Sighing, you glance out of the window, curled up underneath a mountain of blankets, and watch the snow fall. It’s always snowing here. It was barely possible to trek up here as a snowstorm was creeping in; the townspeople were less than eager to even hear you out until you flashed an extortionate amount of money.

A nice, elderly man took pity, though, upon discovering your last name. He knew your granny. Said she was a sweet soul with a real talent for baking. Having ordered one of his sons to drive you up, he gave you his telephone number, insisting that if you ever needed anything, anything at all, they would come at the drop of a hat.

That warmed your heart a little. The kindness of a stranger is not something you’re familiar with and thought you’d never get to experience, but there he was, smiling, and waving the cash away like it was the silliest thing in the world and it had no real consequence.

It had been four days since and you won’t lie, you have considered phoning in that favour. You’re way out of your depth here. With a sigh, you pull a blanket, red and knitted by your grandmother, up to your chin and continue to watch the snow fall. Even though you’re at your wits end with all the scrubbing this cabin needs, you couldn’t possibly call it quits now and beg the man to come up just to take you down. How embarrassing would that be?

You hear knocking.

There’s someone at the door, pounding. Your heart begins to beat fast. You must have mistaken the sound of the wind howling for a knock at the door. After all, you are miles away from the town and the snow is far too thick for anyone to have gotten up here. Would it be wise to get up from the warmth of your sofa to be sure?

The knocking gets louder, more adamant. Okay, so you weren’t, in fact, mistaken. Something about that noise, unyielding and firm, pierces your heart. You can’t imagine being out in this weather. You’re at the door faster than you can even process the speed at which your feet moved.

When you fling the door open, the freezing wind attacks, stinging your cheeks and nipping at your skin. Arms rushing to hug the blanket you thoughtfully to drag with you tighter around your body, you squint up through the blinding white of the snow at a hulking beast.

Broad shouldered and glaring, he watches you cower beneath his gaze. He’s dressed in a simple, fitted t-shirt and baggy joggers, and you feel impossibly colder just by looking at him. His face is hidden behind a disheveled beard, rough and scratchy. He’s a very hairy man.

“H-hello. Can I help you?”

His nose twitches. He jerks his chin to something behind you. “You’re cooking. I’m hungry.”

Without waiting for a reply, he pushes past you. Pressing yourself close to the door frame, you just about avoid the graze of his arm against you. This turn of events has your head spinning. Who does this man think he is?

The wind howls harder. You slam the door shut. “Excuse me! You can’t just walk in as you please. This is my home. Get out.”

He doesn’t look back, doesn’t even register what you say. Instead, he crosses into the kitchen and lifts the lid of the pot of stew you’ve been working on for hours and grunts. When he fixes himself a bowl, you’re left speechless at how he seems to move on autopilot, opening cabinets and drawers for what he needs without so much as a glance.

Now he’s sitting at the table, scarfing down your stew and you’re bewildered, spluttering. You’re being Punk’d.

“Who do you think you are? I told you to get out. I’m gonna call the police if you don’t within the next five seconds!”

He snorts.

“The police?” His voice is gravelly, seemingly from lack of use. “Ain’t nobody getting up ‘ere in this state.”

That’s what every serial killer says, and you should be afraid, should be running for help. But there’s no hint of malice or cruel intent in his words, only amusement, the way one responds to a child’s whims.

“Well, you should still afford me the decency of leaving my home when asked.”

“Your home? Didn’t know the old lady gave it away.”

You gulp, clutching the thick blanket even tighter. “You knew my grandmother?”

He grunts.

Well aware you really ought to kick him out, you’re ashamed at the realisation that you can’t bring yourself to. It’s awfully terrible outside and there’s no doubt the elements would claim him if he he’s left out with no shelter. Though, that really shouldn’t be your responsibility and there is still, of course, the glaring concern of his ability to kill you. One sweep of his figure and you know this towering man, tall and muscular, could snap your neck with one hand.

Or worse.

Not to mention, he’s a hybrid. You can tell by the twitching of his ears and his nose, like he’s hearing and smelling things inscrutable by the human senses. You wonder what he is. He has no triangular ears or fluffy tail like a dog, he doesn’t have eyes like a cat, no scales that you can see, but his teeth, when he scrapes them along the spoon, you know they’re much sharper than you’d like to ever find out.

If he wanted to kill you, he could have done that before. And at any rate, it’s too late to do anything about it now. He knows you’re alone and there’s nowhere you can run to before the snow freezes your limbs.

Settling back down onto the sofa, you just watch him eat. He’s grabbed a second helping, enjoying the meat more than the potatoes and carrots in there but that’s expected of a man. It does mean, though, that he’s not a herbivore hybrid. You wonder if he likes the taste of a woman’s flesh.

“Is it good?” You ponder.

There’s something oddly peaceful about observing him — the way he only chews once and twice before swallowing and shoving another spoonful, the way his throat contracts, how his huge hands grasps the bowl and spoon like they could be ripped away from him before he’s finished, and even the way his foot taps, impatient and tense.

He throws you a cursory glance. “It’s good.”

A second helping disappears. So does a third.

“It seems like you haven’t eaten in days. Or showered. Or rested.”

Huffing, he leans back in the chair, full perhaps. He scratches his stomach under his shirt and you look away at the flash of skin. In a drawl, he concedes, “Y’r right on the money.”

You note how he doesn’t offer more. And you know by the way he’s observing you in return that he’s expecting you to ask for more. You don’t. It’s stupid. Suicidal even. But a little company to weather this snow storm might not be so bad.

“I’ll allow you to stay here until the snow passes but no longer than that. There’s a second bedroom in the back, you can use that. The boiler’s broken or something so the radiators aren’t working, neither is the hot water in the shower. So, unfortunately, this isn’t going to be a stay at a five star hotel but we’ll both get along just fine if we maintain boundaries and do our part.”

He grunts. That seems to be his preferred way of communicating. Fine by you. You never liked talkative people anyways. “I want a hot shower. So do you by the looks of it. I’ll go down and check the boiler out.”

Startled, you laugh. “You know how to fix things?”

The look he gives you is answer enough and with no further words exchanged, he marches down the hall, obviously all too familiar with the layout of the cabin — did he stay here after she died, when the house was empty and unused?

Or maybe he stayed with your grandmother and that was how she got along just fine on her own after your grandfather died.

After thirty minutes or so, he emerges, some grease smeared on his face, and he presses the back of his hand to the radiator by where you sit. He’s standing very close. And from your position, hugging your knees under all these blankets, he looks so much bigger and stronger.

“It’s fixed. For now. Shit’s old so might need regular maintenance,” he explains. “Ya wanna shower first or what?”

Considering he fixed the damn thing, he should have the first go, shouldn’t he? Especially as he’s been out in the cold for goodness how long.

“I’ll shower first,” you say.

He nods.

Unfurling yourself from your cocoon, you stumble to a stand. He doesn’t move, doesn’t give you space. Your chest brushes against his. Tingling rushes down your spine at the graze of your nipples. You hastily move past him, embarrassed and suddenly nervous.

“I’ll be quick. Um, feel free to have more stew and I don’t know if you have any clothes or anything, but my grandmother kept some of her husband’s clothes, you’ll find them in your room — the second bedroom, I mean. Just down the hall, by the bathroom.”

He doesn’t reply and you don’t wait for him to .

In your rush to save face, you just miss the way his lips twitch in one corner.

You had forgotten how wonderful a hot shower is. The way you’re enveloped by warmth and your tense muscles loosen and relax under the barrage of water. You take much longer than you usually do, intent on thoroughly enjoying the water like it could grow legs and make a run for it. Eventually, you’re bathed and fresh. Much fresher than you’ve been in the last couple days since you didn’t have to hurry through your routine or curse under your breath at the burning chill of the water, mocking your ineptitude and foolish spontaneity.

When you come out, dressed in a sweater and joggers, you’re pleased to find the house much warmer than before. The fireplace is even lit, the orange and red flames dancing with as much joy as you feel. More cozy and welcoming, the cabin has completely transformed in what feels like a blink of an eye. Before, the clinical white lights overhead flickered on its last legs, completely and utterly useless, now only the fireplace sheds light, covering the living room and kitchen in a snug ember.

It feels reminiscent of Christmas evenings you never had.

Your guest doesn’t look surprised when you approach — he probably heard you every step of the way — but he does push off the sofa and give you a look over, nodding as if satisfied to see you out of the blankets you wore like a second skin.

Just as he brushes past you, you grasp his arm. Nerves light up. You drop it like it burns. “Sorry. I, um, just wanted to say thanks. And uh, I guess we should introduce each other. Sorry I didn’t do it sooner. I’m not really sure why I didn’t. Maybe I was just mentally prepared to not speak to another person for a while or something.”

Tilting his head at you, he releases a huff of air through his nose and says, “Name’s Toji. You’re y/n; the old lady talked about you.”

“Oh.”

Likely sensing that’s as much as you’re going to say, he disappears into the bathroom with a pile of clothes and a towel in hand that you didn’t even notice — maybe because you were far too distracted by how handsome he looks under the glow of the fire or how his skin felt nice, all hard and soft and heated the way only a man could be.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was because the first thing you really noticed upon entering the living room was not the way it had been transformed or how normal it looked for such a big man to be taking up space here, but rather how this ‘Toji’ was sitting in the exact same spot you’d been making your little home when he came.

When you awake the next day, you’re surprised he’s still asleep. It was almost midday and there’s no sign of him having walked through the cabin before you. There’s no way you’ll knock on his door. Truthfully, you were surprised, pleasantly so it must be said, to find yourself alive and untouched. You don’t guilty for thinking the worst and you’re not naive enough to think better of him for not being a serial killer, that’s simply the bare minimum.

But it does mean he’s a man of his word and you can let down a little of your guard.

Instead of worrying more about what he’s doing in his room, you busy yourself with breakfast. Toji had finished the stew when you came out of the shower and you were impressed by his appetite, albeit also concerned for your stock; at this rate, your food will run out much faster than you had planned and there’s no telling when the weather will get well enough to call out the old man for help.

You bake a sourdough, fry up some eggs and sausages and put the kettle on for some coffee — instant, unlike the ones you’re used to in the big city but it’ll have to do. You’re careful not to make too much noise, although you feel a little embarrassed at how thoughtful you’re being.

Just as you put the plate down, he emerges, shirtless, hand scratching the trail of hair low on his stomach. His hair is mussed up, sticking at all angles, and the plaid pyjama bottoms he must gotten from your grandfather’s box of old clothes hang low on his hips, distinct v-lines peeking in a terrifyingly sinful way. He has fairly thick hair on his arms and chest, the very definition of unkept and wild.

You clear your throat.

“Good morning. Sleep well?”

He throws you a look, full of amusement, before he sits down at the table. He must have smelt the food and known somehow you were meaning to share. How presumptuous of him. “Slept fine.”

You serve him his portion, larger than your own, and pour him coffee to which he doesn’t say no. “Not going to ask me how I slept?”

He snorts. “Don’t hafta. You tossed and turned the whole night.”

“You have really good hearing, don’t you? What kind of hybrid are you?”

He eats much slower than yesterday, mulling the taste over rather than scarfing it down, and he seems pleased enough with your cooking skills. For reasons you don’t want to think too much about, you’re feeling pretty proud of yourself.

“Wolf,” he replies.

You’ve never met a wolf before. But they are an infamous breed — they needed constant medication to keep their animal instincts at bay, they stuck by their own kind, were aggressive to outsiders, and are known for being fiercely loyal and protective. Toji doesn’t seem to match the description. He’s alone for one and he moves with grace like a deer and not like a clunky predator.

“How did you know my grandmother, if I may?” You ponder. In all of the letters she’s written to you, she had never mentioned knowing a hybrid like Toji, or any hybrids for that matter.

He lifts one shoulder in a shrug and shared, “Helped her around during winters just like these. She was too old to get down by herself and there were always things needing fixing.”

“She gave you warm food in return?”

He grunts.

“How did you know she died?” Raising a brow at your question, you explain, “You said she ‘was’ too old.”

Barking a sudden laugh, you find the noise tickling your skin and you can’t stop staring at the way his face softens for just the quickest second and ever so lightly. You’re ashamed to admit the noise makes you warmer inside than it should.

“I come sniffing around soon as snow starts to fall. It’s routine. A habit. I was the one who found her. Notified the townspeople and went on my way.” He takes a sip of the coffee, green eyes never leaving yours. “Haven’t been back in years.”

His voice is gruff and now that you’re sat face-to-face with him, it’s clear as day that he’s not used to the sound of his own voice; he furrows his brows and stumbles upon certain words like they’re foreign, as if he’s struggling to reconcile the reality that those words are coming from him.

“So what made you come here?”

No answer.

The rest of breakfast passes by in relative silence, the distant moan of the wind outside providing enough noise to wash away the awkwardness of eating with a stranger. You want to tell him you’d prefer if he didn’t walk around so bare but that seemed too big of an ask since it’s likely he runs hotter as a wolf than you do. Eyes falling to your neck and your chest unashamedly, he doesn’t shy away from eye contact.

You do though.

Then he stands, taking both your and his plate over to the sink. He begins washing up. That actually takes you by surprise. This Toji fella didn’t strike you as the type to partake in house chores. Rather, he seems like the type to firmly believe the kitchen is a woman’s domain. Interestingly enough, his back is marked up, full of scars, and they ripple with his muscles. You want to ask about them but he’s not a man who offers answers and you’re not the kind of woman who should poke and prod.

“Right, well.” You stand too. “I was wondering if you know how to fix a washing machine. And a dryer. Neither are working and washing my sheets and panties in the bath is a pain.

His eyes flick to you as you wipe away at a spot on the counter dirtied by flour. You probably shouldn’t have used the word ‘panties’ in front of a man like him but you thought it would be funny. He doesn’t seem to think so. He gives you a half-nod and you feel satisfied enough from that interaction to pad over to the sofa to read a book.

Toji begins working around the cabin — he heads over to the laundry room and you hear the clatter of metal and thumping against the floor. Upon emerging and giving you the look that says ‘it’s done’, he also starts looking for something in the basement. He carries up a box of lightbulbs in one arm and a ladder in another.

When you jolt up, to offer help, he cuts you another look that says ‘don’t you dare’, and you sit back down. He seems to have his own way of doing things and he knows you’ll only get in the way. Maybe he noticed that your nails are long and clean and he can somehow, with his wolfy powers, sense your hands have never touched dirt.

Still working on this and that around the house, you serve him his lunch and you eat separately. If this becomes your routine then that’ll be ideal. He does all the cleaning and fixing and you cook. Sure, it might be setting back the feminist movement just a little but things like that don’t matter up here, where it’s freezing and you have no idea how you managed for days without him.

Much more quickly than you could have ever expected, the day ends and night falls.

“Thanks for the help,” you say, handing him a glass of your grandmother’s moonshine. You remember where she kept it from your childhood and now, soon after dinner, just sat by the fireplace, feels as good a time as any to bust it out.

You’re both leaning against the sofa, right by the fireplace, choosing to be on the rug rather than on the soft couch. You can’t remember who followed who, but you suppose it doesn’t matter. In just one day he had solved most of the problems you’ve nearly cried over.

Toji grunts.

He’s wearing a shirt now, thin and plain. Your grandfather was a much smaller man so this shirt is practically bursting at the seams on his huge bicep but he doesn’t seem to mind. You do, though. It’s rather distracting actually. His skin brushes against yours and neither of you move away.

The flames are the only light here and you feel its warmth settling on your face, lulling you to comfort. Stronger than any alcohol you’ve ever had, the moonshine burns your throat, lighting you up inside. Your companion appears to be unimpressed with the concoction, downing the cup in one gulp.

Slightly embarrassed by your inexperience, despite being an adult, you ask, “Where were you staying before? You said you come here for winter so where do you stay for the rest of the year? Same place you’ve been staying at since my grandmother died? Or somewhere different?”

Throwing an arm on the sofa, right behind your head, he admits, “Nowhere. Everywhere. Just moved around a lot.”

“Why didn’t you just stay here? If you talked to her enough to know about me, then surely she must have told you no one ever visits since everyone in the family hates the cold. You would have had the place all to yourself.”

“I never stay in one place for too long.”

You skim the rim of your glass, watching the clear liquid swirl with the glow of the fireplace. “Why not?”

He waits until you can’t bear the silence, until you feel that itch to look up, to meet his gaze. And when you do, there’s some intensity in his eyes that seems to make the alcohol in your stomach burn just a little more. A finger of his twirls a lock of your hair and he murmurs, “Never had a reason to.”

Nodding, you settle for watching the fire.

And when the bottle of moonshine was depleted, you left to sleep and he stayed, a scalding brand marking your back and you couldn’t bear to look back to know if it was from the fireplace or from him.

That was how your first day went.

On the second day, you repeat more or less the same routine: you make breakfast, you eat together, he goes and fixes something else, you make lunch, you eat separately, he fixes some more things, you make dinner, and you share a drink or two, and sleep.

Occasionally, you’ll run into each other and you still struggle to meet his eyes, having to crane your head so far back to get a good look. Sometimes when you do gather the courage to look up at him, he’s already looking at your chest, green eyes slowly rising up to your face. His brow rises in challenge just as hip lip twitches. He doesn’t care at all. The man had no manners.

But he washes the dishes after every mealtime and he doesn’t really make a mess, so you can’t complain when he takes his visual fill of your body. There’s no harm in looking, only a priest would ever know that you do the same thing; there’s always a sizeable bulge in his trousers that you can’t keep your eye off, totally only out of curiosity.

The day starts off with an exchange of ‘g’morning’ and a ‘g’night’.

The third day tells the same story.

On the fourth day, however, only one thing out of the ordinary happens and it isn’t anything to write home about but you can’t get it out of your mind, as you lay in bed wide awake. The wolf hybrid had needed to get past you to get something from the fridge and on his way, he gripped your hips, lightly and barely a whisper, but his finger had brushed a sliver of skin where your shirt had risen up.

His touch was startling, petrifying, making the hairs along your body stand on edge, but more than anything, it was completely and utterly exhilarating.

When your hand wandered down into your panties that night, you tried your best to stifle your moans with your pillow, chasing the high that followed you the entire day. You fell asleep sticky, sweaty and unrepentant.

The fifth day goes by just fine too. Appreciative of the little song and dance you two have choreographed, you find yourself less and less anxious about the snow and the world beyond. There’s just something about this Toji fella — he’s quiet in a way that would be off-putting from anyone else, but you find it comforting. It’s different from the way everything worked in the city, where silences are this obscene monstrosity that must be filled with the clattering of a busybody.

Here, with him, you can just breathe in the hot cocoa and the smoky ash burning in the fireplace as you sit by him, shoulder to shoulder, on the rug and not on the sofa. He doesn’t ask questions about why you never visited your grandmother, why you haven’t talked about your family or your friends, or why you don’t ask him questions.

You like to think too that he appreciates you keeping your curiosity at bay.

Maybe that’s why he lets you rest your head on his shoulder, why he doesn’t nudge you off when your breath begins to even out and your lashes flutters shut, and maybe, just maybe, it’s why he carries you to bed and lays you down so gently you dream of solid arms, green sparkles in the snow, and fluffy clouds that brush your hair back.

What you weren’t prepared for, however, is the sixth day. It started off just like any other day: breakfast, reading on the sofa whilst he fixes something or the other, and then lunch eaten separately.

But, the hybrid must have gotten oil spilled on him when he was tinkering with something in the cellar because he went to shower during the day, instead of at night like you both do. This fact wasn’t known to you. It really wasn’t even on your mind. And that’s why disaster struck.

Walking into the bathroom to grab something — you can’t even remember what it was and why you were so focused on retrieving it, you hadn’t registered the sound of running water and the fact that the room was steamier than usual — you were met with a sight no HR training could ever prepare you for. Because, there, right in front of you, was your roommate, buck naked with water dripping down his chiseled body, catching on the curly hairs on his chest and lower abdomen. He was leaning with one arm on the glass of the shower stall, forehead pressed onto his forearm whilst the other made slow, leisurely strokes somewhere low, somewhere the steam gravitated towards.

Forward and back, forward and back, forward...and…back.

All while his eyes, like freshly cut grass, stayed unmoving, watching you watch him. Feet sinking deeper into the tiles, you were stuck where you are, heaving chest matching his as he let out a grunt, wrist jerking faster, splashing so much water everywhere you could almost feel them land on your skin through the glass.

Your phone pinged from your hand. You didn’t realise you were holding it. That was just about enough to break the trance he had you under. Wordlessly, you turned back and left, the door clicking shut behind you, and you busied yourself with preparing for dinner.

When he walked out, dressed, you could see from your peripheral, you grunted in acknowledgement after he let you know he was going to get some wood from outside.

Dinner was eaten separately too.

Instead of watching the fireplace, side by side, sharing whatever drink you’ve prepared, you’re settled comfortably under your blankets, hand rubbing furiously in your panties and eyes shut tightly, chasing flashing images of something sinful, delicious, the very source of your delirium.

Your orgasm is shallow. It’s why you’re conscious enough to notice, through the gap between your door and the floor, that the hallway light is still on and just as you exhale your last lust-induced moan, it disappears, leaving your senses focused solely on the sound of feet padding away.

You don’t get any sleep.

“G’morning,” you chirp.

The kettle is boiling and you’re serving the last of the eggs and bacon onto pancakes you made from scratch. There are still some meat frozen but the vegetables and fruits are almost gone and there’s no other way about it — you’re going to have to go down to get some more food. What had supposed to last you comfortably, at least two weeks, is now on its last crumbs before the first seven days had reached its end.

His green eyes flick to yours and with a small smirk, beard twitching, he asks, “Sleep well?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you try to ignore the burning of your face and the sudden shake in your hands. Of course he had heard. Of course! Because, lost in the haze of the shallow pleasure, you had forgotten that you’re living with a man that is far from ordinary.

So is his hearing.

“Oh, great,” you grit out. “And you?”

A snort of what you can only guess to be amusement is released from him and when he brushes past you, his heat only sets those embers ablaze again. He doesn’t answer.

Once sat down and eating, it’s your roommate who suggests more food is needed — as he should, considering it’s because of his insane appetite that things have turned out so hopeless so quickly.

“How could we possibly get more food in this weather? No one can get up here and walking down is not an option. I mean, just looking at all that snow makes me feel like death is creeping in.”

“Don’t gotta leave,” he says with a grunt. “I’ll go.”

Spluttering, you practically shriek, “You? Are you insane? You’ll die.”

His green eyes glint. “Will the pretty little city girl be sad if I do?”

“Will the big, bad wolf listen and stay if I say yes?”

Toji barks out a laugh. Breakfast ends soon after.

An hour passes and, as you read a book, you think that that’s the last of that. But of course it isn’t. Just as you finish a chapter, the wolf in question comes out of his room in a worn out coat too small for him and a firm look on his face. He can’t possibly be serious.

Ignoring your protests, he heads over to the door and doesn’t spare you a glance. It’s only when you tell him he needs money that he does pause. Typical macho men, thinking with their muscles and not their heads, you grumble in your mind. He waits for you to grab your purse and shove it in his hand.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

Your question is met with an eye roll.

“Yeah, quit worrying. I’ll be back before you know it.” He sounds so sure. You’re inclined to believe him. Something about how sturdy he looks makes him sound convincing enough; Toji’s built like an oak tree, with deep-reaching roots and a thick trunk that could withstand the harshest storms and mightiest blows. But all trees can be felled, if one tries hard enough.

He must have smelt the doubt pouring out of every pore because then he’s making a sound of pure exasperation. “Alright, listen. I’m a wolf, yeah? I’ve been through worse.”

Eyes darting from the snow and to his deadpan face, you mutter, “Just because you’ve been through worse doesn’t mean you should go through more. You can just stay and keep warm. With me. I can’t help you if you’re out there.”

There’s a silence, like a sudden gust. And then a sigh.

In less than a second, you find your jaw being gripped with one large hand and your head is pushed to the side just as his face buries itself in the crook of your neck, the rough hairs of his beard tickling your skin. The growl that escapes him pulls a gasp out of you and then he’s gone.

With the speed at which the door flies open and closes, you barely feel the sharp sting of the cold. Or maybe you do feel the full brunt of it, but it’s overshadowed by the envigorating rush that came from that big man inhaling your scent before he left.

You wonder if he liked what he smelt.

Before, it felt like time was passing at a snail’s pace, but now it’s like time isn’t passing at all — you’re stuck in some sort of pathetic limbo where you spend every meaningless second switching tasks. From brushing the floor to rearranging the books on the shelves in the corner to dusting every surface to lying in bed and so on and so forth. It feels somewhat akin to engraving tallies into the walls with a paperclip.

Alone, truly alone, you can do nothing but focus on the feeling of ice creeping into your bloodstream. The heaters are on and you can very easily set the wood burning in the fireplace if need be since he taught you. But you don’t want to; you’re lazy. That’s the excuse you’d tell Toji if he asks, biting down the real reason and never spitting it out.

The shivers wracking your body is what you deserve for letting that man go to get food on your behalf. The quivering of your lips is due to the fact that you could have — should have— gone with him, should have bundled him up in something thicker and warmer, and yourself maybe, so you two could trek together to the town. At least, if one of you were to be injured, there’s someone there to pick you back up.

Who will pick him up?

Gnawing on a nail, your eyes dart, for the millionth time, outside the window, fuzzy socks rubbing against each other as you shuffle on the floor. Night is falling and he still isn’t here. You’re beyond worried.

How long does it take to hike down and up anyways? It took about an hour by car, so surely it wouldn’t take longer than a day at the very most, right?

But spending even just an hour in this snow, wearing just a coat, would be fatal for anyone, wolf hybrid or not, right? And he’s attempting to bring up groceries?

Oh, God.

You’ve allowed that man to walk right into his death. No, you’ve sent him off to die. You’re a killer. Or maybe he’s not coming back. Maybe this was just a ploy to leave without an awkward goodbye. He got what he wanted — roof over his head, a bed, food, warm shower and even a stupid girl to tease. Now that he’s exhausted the supplies, maybe he’s off to try his luck at another cabin.

Is this what it was like with your grandmother?

Did she make sure to stock up as much as possible for the winter to ensure he’d stay the entire time so she can have someone to look after her?

Is that what you’re going to turn into?

A food bank?

You shouldn’t have come up here. You should have stayed in the loud, stifling city in your miserable office job, with your stuffy pantsuits and your overbearing boss. You should have accepted your family’s manufactured smiles and cold hugs. You should never, ever have dared to want more. There is nothing in your entire life you have done, or could have ever done, to deserve more.

A knock comes on the door.

You jerk up.

The blanket falls from your shoulders. Stumbling to a stand, you wipe your hands down your front, trying to steady them, and without waiting for a second knock, you twist the knob that had just been above your head and you flung it open.

“Could hear ya sniffling from miles. You good?”

In front of you is a very hairy man, broad shouldered, coat darkening with the dampness that weighs him down and flakes of snow litter his beard like an upside down tree. He’s scary, hulking and tense, like a wound up toy, ready to explode at any given moment. An ear twitches when you sniffle, just as he said. This man could kill you. He’s strong enough to have been carrying two big, heavy bags, one in each hand, up the mountain. And he knows the exact layout of the cabin, knows there are no hiding spots, no locks in the basement, knows where the axe is, and that the stoker is leaning against the fireplace, too far to get to in time from where you’re standing.

You jump onto him. “Oh my god! I thought you died. Or that you left me!”

He grunts with the force of your body meeting his, but he doesn’t stumble. Bearing the burden of the bags of groceries and your entire weight as you wrap yourself around him like a koala bear, he walks in with ease, kicking the door shut. He saunters over to the kitchen where he deposits the bags on the counter and leaves just enough room to sit you down, untangling your awkward limbs from his torso.

“Ya think too much.”

He pats the wetness, that had transferred from his clothes onto you, down with a tea towel. Your shaky hands reach up, threading your fingers through his beard and his hair, and you brush the snow away. He’s still here. And he’s warm.

“I was so worried something happened to you, Toji,” you whisper.

Stilling, his green eyes flick up to yours, searching, and when he finds the tears threatening to fall he sighs, and presses his forehead against yours, letting you feel the firmness of his presence. He smells like burnt cedar, the musk of the earth, and the saltiness of sea air. With a gravelly voice, he reassures you, “I’m here. Got enough food to last us another week, and by then the snow will stop falling. We’ll be fine”

Your ‘thank you’ stays in your throat when he pulls away and falls on a chair by the dinner table with a grunt so deep and loud you’re snapped back into action — he must be starving and exhausted. Toji did his part and now you must do yours.

Sneaking glances at him, you work as fast as you can, cutting this and boiling that. You know as soon as the onions and garlic hit the pan with the sizzle his nose will start twitching. If it smells delicious to you, you wonder how it must smell to him. Maybe the anticipation of a warm meal was what pulled him home.

You won’t disappoint.

Every second or so, your eyes drift to him, mostly to make sure he’s still breathing, but also because you can’t help it. He’s snoozing, you surmise, when his chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm and his eyes are closed. You move around as quietly as you can.

Plated, you set the steaming soup, fried meat and loaf of bread he had brought down on the table. It’s not the most appealing of all appearances but you know the recipes like the back of your hand so you know he’ll love every thing. Or at least, you hope he will.

Checking all the necessary silverware are on the table, you try to gently coax him awake with a call of his name. He doesn’t answer. You look up with a sigh, ready to jostle him from whatever dream is so beautiful he’s in deep sleep, only to find those frustratingly alluring eyes already on you.

“Smells delicious,” he says, making no effort to gesture to the food.

You gulp and with a weak smile, you sit down and allow him to serve you. “So, how was it? Is the situation bad?”

Toji rolls a shoulder back. He answers, “Snow’s definitely too thick for a car, but the town hasn’t been too badly affected. No one can get in or out but they’re all making do.”

“And you? Was it a difficult journey?”

There’s a pause as he swallows the spoonful he’s shovelled in his mouth and then he’s shrugging, remarking, “Ya think so little of me? Told you, I’m a wolf hybrid. Wasn’t easy but was hardly difficult, ma.”

Warmth pools in your stomach.

“Good.” You sip some water. “But you definitely need to get some rest. That’s a non-negotiable, I’m afraid. No manual labour of any kind tomorrow. I’ll handle everything. So, just let me know what I can do for you. It’s the least I can do, after all.”

He snorts. “Yeah? Y’r gonna take care of me?”

“I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”

His fork and spoon clatter on his frighteningly empty plate and when you meet his gaze once more, you’re knocked back by the sheer challenge in them. There’s a glint, like light off a knife’s edge, and it slices from your heart down your body, leaving you open and electrified.

“Careful, little girl,” he taunts, jaw snapping with a laugh, “when I take you up on that, y’r gonna be whining for days about how sore you are.”

There’s no way you’re going to argue with him, not when he sounds so certain, like you’re missing out on some inside joke. So you finish up dinner, with him having three servings, and after, with the dishes in need of cleaning up, you practically have to shove him in his room when he insisted he’s fine enough to stay up.

He rolls his eyes and lets you slam the door shut in his face.

As you tidy up in the kitchen, you’re pleased to find the fridge full. There’s a lot of fruit and vegetables and all the possibilities are getting you giddy. You suppose you were a little afraid Toji, being a man, would only buy junk and red meat, but he hadn’t. In fact, he had gotten things beyond food, he had bought toiletries and sanitary products for you. Sure it was a little presumptive, maybe you didn’t have periods, maybe you’re on birth control, maybe you’ve just had it and won’t have to worry until after the snow calms enough for you to deal with your personal bodily functions.

But, you find the act endearing, if the smile creeping on your face is anything to go by.

Eventually, you retire to bed, feeling much lighter. There’s lots of food and he came back. He hadn’t left. He had gone through so much trouble — life-risking trouble — that it must mean something, right?

You fall asleep very quickly.

Sometime around two in the morning, however, you’re awoken by some dull noise outside. Blinking through the sleep in your eyes, you pad out of your room and into the living room, where the fireplace is burning and casting dancing shadows over your roommate’s body.

“Didn’t mean to wake ya,” he grouses. “Go back to sleep.”

Finding the spark to laugh, you muse, “I think that’s my line, no?”

He looks wide awake sitting in his usual spot, on the floor with an arm on the sofa and a leg bent. Shirtless, the fire makes him look like he’s glowing, and you’re mesmerised. Clearing your throat, you retrieve two bottles of beer he had cheekily gotten, and sit criss-crossed by him. He takes the beer with a grunt of gratitude.

There’s something different in the air; silence isn’t enough tonight. All the things that have so far been left unspoken, locked away, are climbing over, ready to be shared — at least from your side. You may never know what he’s truly thinking.

Brows furrowed, you begin, “Did you ever wonder how I ended up here? Well, there’s not really a special or interesting story — I just got tired and bored of the same old thing. It felt like my life was missing substance, y’know?”

Grunt.

“I hated the city,” you confess. “It’s awful there. Everyone treats you like their enemy even as you’re just walking down the street. No one ever smiles or even looks at each other.”

Huff.

“It’s a good thing I was a workaholic and lived frugally; I can afford to camp out here until…well, till forever, I guess. It’s also great luck that you came by ‘cause I can’t fix a boiler or anything of the sort, so I would have likely died by now.”

For a second you think he’s dozed off, as he should have been doing after dinner considering the strenuous journey he underwent to get some food, but one glance to the side up has you gulping when you find his eyes on you once more, like they never left, like there’s nowhere else he’d rather look at. What a dangerous thought.

The eye contact has you, or him, or both of you, drawing closer, gazes flickering down and then up and back down again. With the warm glow of the fire blanketing you in the night, you feel so safe and secure; it’s you and him in this cabin and no one else matters. No one else has a say, can interrupt, can ruin this.

Whatever this is.

The arm he has behind you shifts and then you feel fingers skimming a lock of hair, following it down from the temple of your head, curving around the shell of your ear, and into the slope of your neck, brushing your hair back and exposing skin to the sizzling air.

You shiver.

“I’ve always been the kind of girl who stayed in one place. I like the security, the familiarity. But recently things have started feeling tough, like I’m stuck in quicksand, as dramatic as it is to say.”

Your voice is weak and low; you never knew you could sound like that.

When you were brushing the snow out of his beard, you weren’t surprised to find it rough, you often catch him scratching there so you know it’s uncomfortable for him too, and yet, you find a bubbling desire within you to feel it on your skin, the way you had briefly felt it on your neck and in your hands. How would it feel in other places?

“I just needed to get out, y’know?” You’re leaning impossibly close — close enough to see the question in his eyes. “Do something new, something exciting, something…”

“Wild?”

Toji’s eyes flashes and at your dazed nod, he dives forward, swallowing your gasp in his rough, unforgiving mouth. He shoves his tongue in, licking and tasting, and that arm that laid at the back of your head curls around it, pulling you close by your neck. You’re left with no choice but to cling to him and try to keep up with his merciless pace.

He tastes like alcohol with something deeper running, like an undercurrent, a ferocity only a beast could achieve. You feel intoxicated. Carrying you onto his lap, you’re overwhelmed by the feeling of something hard jutting up into your core. A growl pierces your ears when you don’t hesitate to grind down onto that hard length. He’s leaking heat hotter than the fireplace, he’s hard and firm everywhere your hands can reach, and his clutch is frightening, gripping you like you could never escape even if you fought against him.

You’ve never been wetter.

“I can smell ya,” he rasps. “Been smelling this sweetness every day. You taste as good as you look or what?”

Coarse and prickly, this beard is rubbing deliciously against your skin, reminding you from all angles that he’s kissing you, that he wants you just as bad as you want him, and he can’t get enough.

Burying your fingers in his thick hair, you moan when he licks a stripe up your neck, sniffing at your pulse point. “Find out for yourself.”

His laugh is sudden and gravelly and it’s the last thing you think about before you’re being thrown on your back, legs spreading to accommodate his girth as he kneels above you, shirt going up and over before he throws it somewhere. With the fireplace highlighting the sharp contours of his face and his rippled chest, his beastly grin spikes your pulse and then he’s pinning you down with his body.

“I don’t think you understand the position y’r in, little girl,” he taunts.

Using his claws, he rips up your top, exposing your tits to the air for just a second before he swallows one in his mouth, flicking a nipple with his tongue, all while he’s rolling his hips into yours creating a delicious friction that has your back arching and your jaw dropping.

“Been dreaming about these pretty tits.” He pinches the other, grinding his cock especially hard against your clit. The revelation falls on deaf ears when he smacks one. “Fuuuuck, look at the way they bounce.”

You pull at his hair and he lets you drag him back up to your lips, your nipples sore and tickled by the hairs on his chest whilst he rises up your body. “Kiss me.”

And he does, swallowing your moans he continues squeezing and groping your tits, but he leaves your lips swollen quickly after as he begins his descent, peppering a trail of kisses.

Pressing a nose right up at the apex of your thighs, he takes a looooong inhale, a satisfied growl echoing in the darkness. Your face heats up, legs threatening to close around his head but his big paws holds them open, nails digging with the promise of pain if you dare shut them away from him.

“You been flaunting a scent that’s got my mouth watering more than any of your baked goods,” he huffs, eyes narrowing at the wet spot leaking through. He thumbs at it, pressing down as if he could force everything you’ve got to give out. “’S not fair, ma. Waited so long for you to give in to me, heh, gonna make you regret that.”

“Toji!”

He rips up your pyjama bottoms too and hooks his fingers into the gusset of your panties before those are flying away, shredded beyond hope, and cool air grazes your sloppy slit.

Not a single second is wasted before he digs in, lapping up your pussy with a fearsome snarl. The tip of his long, slobbery tongue circles your pulsing clit, tweaking it when you whine. “Fuck, you taste this good and ya been holding out on me? Selfish little cunt, hmm?”

Hands flying up to grip his hair for purchase, you fall victim to his incessant licking and sucking and slurping as he flattens your thighs open, the scraggly hairs of his beard tickling your sensitive skin which grows clammier and clammier with the heat of his mouth, his body, and the fireplace.

When he curls two thick fingers in, stretching your walls further than you could with your own, your eyes fly open. “No! Ngh, too much.”

Still sucking at your clit, he shoves those fingers in and out, dragging them on his way to really take in the squishiness of your insides, forcing out those loud squelches. You tug at his scalp and he lifts up just a little to snap his maw, missing your clit by a hair’s breadth.

“Don’t get in the way of my meal, ‘cause this?” He slaps your pussy, juices splashing and he barks a mean laugh. “This is mine now.”

Your orgasm washes over you when his lips sucks your clit with a tongue flicking the little button at the exact same time those long digits curls up and lays successive presses against that smooth part inside of you.

Toji’s entire mouth engulfs your pussy, sharp teeth grazing your skin whilst he suckles on your sweet essence, drinking like a man lost in a desert, his personal oasis. “Ah, y’r no good for me, ma. Gonna get me addicted on this sloppy fucking cunt.”

Panting desperately, you writhe on the floor, feverish and crazed. He doesn’t give you a break, doesn’t let you catch your breath, before he shoves his pants down and lets his cock spring out.

Just the like rest of him, his cock is huge — long, thick, and throbbing with veins running up the length, carving a path up to his leaking cockhead which flushes a sinful dark red, promising a painful stretch. At the base, there’s coarse hair, wild and untamed like any other part of his body, and oh, God, those balls, they hang heavy, too heavy.

He snaps his fingers in front of your face and chuckles before he orders simply, “Suck.”

As if entranced, you scramble onto all fours, crawling forward so you can nudge his length with your cheek, his slit leaving a wet trail. He smells like a beast of the earth and it has your pussy drooling, a fat droplet sliding down your thigh and you shut your legs tight in a pathetic attempt to quell that ache. After all, you are much too preoccupied with this monstrous thing in front of you.

You peer up at him and stick your tongue out, licking from the very base, catching a little bit of his ball sac, and tilting back to reach his tip where you skim the underside. A large hand slides into your hair softly before it bundles up your hair in its angry grip pulling your head back into an uncomfortable angle so you can face his savage scowl.

“I know y’r not deaf. Fuck did I say? Huh?” He pushes your face into his balls, smothering you. “Be a good girl and suck, yeah?”

So you do.

Suckling on his balls, much like how he did with your tits, you try to take as much of him as you can before you can’t bear it any longer and you wrap your lips around his cock head, savouring the salty drops that coat your tongue. Everything about him is strong, from his grip to his scent and especially his taste. It’s as if he was built to dominate, to fill up every senses until you can think of and feel nothing but him.

You gag, overwhelmed by the intrusion.

He tuts, thoroughly scolding when he drawls, “If ya can’t take me properly with y’r mouth, then there’s no way you can take me with y’r pussy. Wanna prove me wrong, kid?”

You push past the painful stretch of your jaw, gliding as much as of his length into your throat as you can, thumb being pinched by your fist. Not even halfway down, you go back up again, not letting go of his tip before you slide back down, and you repeat that motion, taking more and more of him as you go.

When you hollow your cheeks to suck him in deeper, you see him throw his head back, his abs tensing and becoming prominent, you scrape your nails down that trail of hair before it finds his balls, massaging in the way you know not even he could resist.

“Fuck. Tryna -ha- make me cum so soon? Naughty,” he says.

In a flash, you’re being pulled off his cock and pushed back onto the rug once more. Your ankles are clasped in one of his hand, extending your legs high up in the air. “W-what are you doing?”

Cracking his neck slowly, the flames of the fireplace still as virile as ever, Toji looks downright sadistic with the way he grins at you.

“Just enjoying my meal to the fullest.” He pushes his cock through your thighs, right on top of your slit, lathering the underside with your overflowing juices. He groans, sharp teeth catching on his bottom lip. “We’re both gonna cum like this and then I’m putting you to bed.”

Slightly distracted by the way his cock is catching on your clit with every slide back and forth, you ask with a frown, “But why can’t you just fuck me now?”

He laughs. He fucking laughs. And then he’s bending your legs back towards your chest as he leans in close, placing your calves on his shoulders so you can see his face far too clearly. Rubbing the bristles on his jaw on your skin, he lays a soft kiss on your ankle before he scrapes the bone with a canine.

“Because I fuck rough, city girl. Y’r gonna be bruised, sore and all chewed up and you can’t complain if you hopped on my dick willingly, no?” You can’t answer. “Yeah, glad we agree. So don’t open that pretty mouth of y’rs unless it’s to moan my name, and keep y’r legs tight for me; no one wants to fuck something loose and limp.”

“Hurry up and get it over with!”

Doing just that, he thrusts like a madman, using you like a rag doll to chase his pleasure. You’re being jostled on the floor, the rug burning your skin and your hair so close to being singed by the embers of that fire he’s been tending to, setting alight and snuffing like clockwork every day.

His balls slap against your ass, as if pounding you too.

It’s all so dirty, so obscene, so wet any rational thought you should have been having about letting someone who’s practically a stranger fuck your thighs like you’re nothing but a slippery hole fly out the window.

The slight sheen of sweat on his chest is making you restless — you can’t focus on one thing, not the way he’s holding your legs tight, hugging them to his torso like you might run away, the way the friction of his cock rubbing against your clit is bringing you closer to orgasm, and not how your wetness is making embarrassing squelches that you know his hybrid ears can hear in even greater clarity than you can.

“Oh! T-toji! I think I’m -ngh- gonna -ha- cum.”

He bites down hard on your calf just as his hips stutter and his scalding spurts splash onto your chest, even reaching your chin and cheeks. A drop falls into your mouth which is stuck in an O-shape as you orgasm at the same time, digging your nails into the carpet and thrashing your head around as the euphoric feeling wash over you from inside and out.

Panting, you manage to breathe out, “Y-you made me all sticky.”

“Not fucking sorry.” Toji licks the red mark on your leg away and presses a kiss right in the centre of the two half moon crescents made by his teeth marks. Your heart beats faster. When his green eyes rove over your body, you both see and feel the deep rumble of satisfaction bubbling from his chest. He runs two fingers down your chest and your stomach, collecting his cum before he smears it on your lips. “Not fucking sorry at all.”

Your eyes threaten to shut and he grunts, realising he must have exhausted you despite the fact that it was he who pushed themselves through the elements for hours and not you.

“Alright, up and at ‘em. Let’s get ya cleaned up, kid.”

Hauling you onto your feet, the rest of the night goes by in a blur — you’re taken to the bathroom and wiped down by a wet cloth, redressed in new pyjamas, and tucked in all nice and warm in your own bed. He leaves. Even half-asleep, you find that act ever so slightly disheartening.

It feels like you’ve been used, like the act wasn’t as intimate as you might have thought. It leaves you biting your nail and groaning inwardly. Of course he didn’t think much about it. The man looks older than you, he’s probably fucked the thighs of many girls and you’re no one special, right?

Maybe the best thing to do is to take a page out of his book and just be casual, so at least you won’t humiliate yourself by asking something absolutely ridiculous like ‘what are we?’

God, the thought makes you grimace.

You make a promise to yourself to swear off Toji until the snow thaws enough to get down and up this cursed mountain. The mental fortitude you’ve erected seems so solid, so reliable and firm, you actually believe you’ll have a more than easy time keeping your hands, and your heart, to yourself.

That is until he returns smelling of soap and he slides right in behind you, tucking an arm under your back and pulling you into place with your head resting on his hairy chest.

“Had to cut my shower short ‘cause you’re gnawing y’r fucking fingernail off. Cut it out, will ya?”

Your bedmate swats at your hand, pulling it away from your anxious mouth and playfully bites your wrist. That hand stays in his grip. Heart ceasing its painful clenching, you make yourself comfortable in his embrace, enjoying the heat enveloping you, hotter than any fire.

Clearing your throat, you mutter, “Thanks for today, Toji. Really. I couldn’t have ever done that without you.”

He huffs a laugh, thoroughly amused.

“Wouldn’t hafta if I wasn’t eating up all y’r food.” His voice booms under your cheek, the vibrations lulling you to sleep. You’ve only just noticed how nice he sounds, it’s a captivating timbre, rough and scratchy like bark but comforting and unyielding in a way you’ve never known anyone to sound. “Ya would’ve been fine without me, anyways. Don’t sell y’rself short.”

“I think it’s you who’s selling yourself short.”

Those are the last words exchanged between you before you two fall asleep.

—————————

“Fuck you up to?” Toji grouses.

His voice is laced with sleep and he’s rubbing his eyes, all bleary and confused. He has every right to be considering you’re under the covers, mouthing at his dick and stroking the morning wood that woke up before him. The duvet gets pulled up, revealing your less than innocent smile.

Kissing his slit, which prompts a heavy hand to lay on your head, you ask, “Waking you up?”

An arm folds under his head, getting him into a great angle to see you much more clearly. His brow rises up, challenging, and he teases, “Yeah? Well, I’m up, ma, so what now?”

The radiators have yet to be turned on this morning so the air is chilly in your room, but still you push those covers back, showing him how you’re completely bare in the bottom, wearing only your shirt to bed. His spare hand falls on your plump thigh, squeezing and kneading.

“Last night,” you begin, raising your hip so you can seat yourself down on his hard length, “you told me you’d only fuck me if I hopped on your dick willingly. So here I am.”

You’re rubbing your already soaked pussy up and down on his cock, coating him with your wetness just as he did last night. You feel every delectable ridge catching your clit and you grind down on him with shameless abandon. How could you ever possibly feel shame when it feels so good and he’s not even inside you yet? When he’s looking at you like that? Like you’re the tastiest prey who’s ever walked into his trap?

He pushes a thumb into your mouth, watching your lips wrap around it like you did the night before and this morning, before he drops his hand to the apex of your thighs, massaging tight circles into that bundle of nerves, forcing breathless moans out of you. “Ya gonna ride me, doll? Gonna show me just how willing you are?”

“Uhuh.” Grinning, you let him pull the shirt up and over your head, nipples pebbling immediately. He flicks one, palming the fatty globe to soothe the dull pain.

Steadying yourself with your hands on his abs, you lean forward and steal a kiss. It’s supposed to be a peck, just a polite, cursory smooch but then he stops groping your tit to use that hand to keep your faced pressed to his. Toji deepens the kiss, shoving his tongue inside and exploring your mouth. He’s stealing air from you and the longer he keeps you submerged, the more you moan.

In the haze of the heat he’s growling into you, you fail to realise he’s let go of your head and is now slotting his cock into your pussy.

“W-wait, Toji!”

The stretch is overwhelming; you hadn’t prepped yourself enough but neither of you seem to care. It’s hard to when his cock head is already pushing through that tight ring of muscle and is worming its way deeper inside you.

He hisses. “So fucking tight! Fuck, gotta relax, ma.”

“I’m -ngh- trying!”

Down and down, your cunt swallows as much of him as it can. You’ve pushed yourself upright, using gravity to aid the descent. Nothing else in the room has his attention. Nothing could ever take his attention. “Oh fuck, would you look at that? Greedy pussy can’t get enough, can she? Dirty girl heh.”

You bottom out, lips tickled by the hairs at his base.

“You’re so big, Toji.”

Both of his arms reach for you, gripping your ass and lifting you up just a little only to let go and let you drop down. You screech. He’s reaching every part of you inside, and when you look down, you’re so certain you can see the outline of him pushing through your stomach. You clench.

“Ah, fuck! Don’t do that,” he scolds you. “Start moving before I get bored.”

The threat makes you frown but you do as he says anyways. Mustering all the strength you have, you start riding him, rising higher and higher each time until you get comfortable with his size. You can’t imagine any amount of prep would ever get you to take him with ease, but the overflowing juices coming from you is certainly helping; it leaves his hairs dewy.

Years past, or so it feels, as you grind and slide down on his length, and he doesn’t seem the least bit affected. That only fuels you harder. With a vendetta, you get up on your knees, keeping just his tip in, before you slam down.

You both moan.

“Fuck!”

His hands dig into your slippery flesh, careful of his sharp claws, but threatening to leave bruises just as he promised. The way he’s poking that sensitive spot inside you has you whimpering with every grind at just the right angle. You can’t imagine ever wanting to stop. Squelches after squelches echo in the room but there’s no shame you can muster, not when he feels so incredible.

The pain is quickly spiralling into pleasure and every part of him is pushing you to the edge— his strength, his length and girth, his low groans and hisses, the hairs that tickle your skin, and those eyes, scouring your features and not missing a single thing.

Embarrassing sloshes and splats! are reverberating against the walls, just as the creaking of the bed frame, and the slapping of skin reach your ears. You’ve never heard yourself sound so dirty, so reckless, so downright pornographic. All of it is pulling you under even as the ache in your thighs from the overuse of them is making your rhythm irregular and jerky.

“Gorgeous -ha- gorgeous girl,” he says through gritted teeth.

His point is emphasised by a slap against your ass cheek, the sting makes you fall over, back onto his chest which is sticky with both of your sweat mixing and mingling. The hairs on his chest brush against your nipples, still sensitive from his rough sucking and biting last night, and you whimper.

Growling in your ear, he plants his feet onto the bed, and oh god, he’s grabbing your ass in both hands and you know without even having to look at him that he’s grown tired of your amateurish performance; Toji is taking matters into his own hand.

“Guess I still gotta do the -hah fuck- work ‘round here. Always such a —ngh— princess. Hold on tight, ma, ’s gonna be a bumpy ride.” His laugh rumbles under your body and an eye roll is all you can manage before you’re being pummelled into from underneath, jostling you in all sorts of directions.

Plunging his cock at an incredible speed, you feel him in your stomach, in your lungs, God it’s like he’s in your head, filling every fold and crevice with his beastly intensity. “Toji! No! Ngh, s-stop! I can’t, fuck it’s so good! Yes! Oh! Oh! Nooooooooo.”

“No, yes, no? Make up your mind, ma. Use that city girl head for me,” he growls out, punctuating his mean question with a cruel laugh.

Bundling your hair into a careless fist, he yanks you back from his chest, forcing you to confront him. He’s not flushed, his face isn’t crumpled in desperation, he isn’t even out of breath. In fact, there would be no sign he’s enjoying this —you, being inside you, holding you — except for the bead of sweat trailing down his temple, drawing your attention to the way those jade beads are flickering between your eyes and your swollen lips.

“Kiss?” You ask, breathlessly.

Toji furrows his brows, something flashing in his gaze, something that resembles confusion, conflict, or hesitation. It’s so quick you wonder if you imagined it but there’s no time to ponder longer because he continues his incessant assault on your poor pussy, kissing your cervix with every thrust, practically rummaging your insides with the way he’s using you like a toy once again.

It’s filthy, it’s carnal, animalistic and oh so good.

“Yeah.” He licks his lips, pearly white row of knives for teeth on perfect display. “Give me a big wet kiss, baby. Make it worth my -hngh fuck!- t-time.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to stretch forward, he slams his face to yours, smacking his plump lips, gobbling you up despite your moans of surprise. He shoves his tongue in with as much ferocity as he’s thrusting his cock inside your poor battered pussy. That tongue licks and explores like he can’t get enough, like he wants to memorise every curve and edge.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

A huge hand lays consecutive slaps against your ass again, the flesh rippling and burning. He times it with every thrust, heavy balls smacking your skin too. It’s all too much too soon and you feel an orgasm bubbling from your throat and your cunt.

“W-what is that? Oh my god!” Something thick is attempting to enter your sloppy pussy, round and threatening. You squeal when it pushes in after a particularly merciless thrust and grind from Toji. The extra stretch brings about a sharp pain. You tear up.

A hand that’s clutching an ass cheek ventures deeper, trailing a finger to a hole you’ve never touched. Smothered in his chest, the onslaught of stimulation from all angles is killing you. There’s nowhere to run, nowhere to breathe, no one to turn to for help from the man making good on his promise to leave you bruised, sore, and all chewed up.

“’s my knot, babygirl. Fuck, you really don’t know shit about hybrids, huh? Well, y’r gonna be educated soon.”

The dark, sadistic tone of his is making you dizzy. In a panic, you hastily say, “N-no! I can’t. Really, Toji! I r-really can’t. Pleaseeee.”

With your hair still in his grasp, your head’s tilted back once again, but this time to bare your slender neck. In one fell swoop, that bulge gets shoved inside your cunt, plugging you up, and his maw clamps down on your neck, so close to puncturing you with his savage teeth.

“Oh! I’m gonna cuummmm! Toji! T-Toji! Stop!” Your jaw drops, eyes rolling back, and your nails dig into his meaty pecs for purchase. It’s like electricity is wracking your body, sizzling every hair strand, tickling your nipples from inside. Grinding against his pelvis, your oversensitive clit is caught in his hairs, creating a remarkable friction you can’t escape. “Oh, fuuuuuuuuuck!”

Broken chuckles emerge from his sinful mouth, “Go on, ma. Cum on my cock, milk me, just like that, oh shit, such a good girl, fuck!”

His brutal pace splutters as he follows suit, balls clenching whilst your walls attempt to push out the invasion of his cock and his knot. A crazed laugh echoes right by your ear, you don’t know what’s so funny but stuttered moans are the only sounds you can make as you chase your high.

“Ah, fuck, y’r so fucking tight. Practically -ha- choking me heh.”

You feel hot cum paint your insides, drizzling down your walls with nowhere to go. He’s thoroughly filled you and when you attempt to lift your hips to get up, you realise, he’s not letting you go any time soon.

“Nice try, ma. Unfortunately for you, y’r stuck with me for about twenty minutes or so till it goes down. Probably should’ve bought condoms heh.”

“You should have given me a warning, Toji,” you mumble, pouting.

Goosebumps litter your arms; the chill of the morning air is settling reminding you just how bare you really are. Thankfully you don’t have to suffer for too long because he’s shuffling so he can throw the covers over the both of you. With his natural body heat, you’re more than warm and cozy, especially as his burning cock is still inside you.

He licks a dried trail of tears on your cheek. “Sorry. Thought you knew.”

“Well, I didn’t. This is my first time with a hybrid.”

Grunt.

A beat or two passes, a comfortable silence humming between you. He’s so big and meaty it feels like you’re going to melt into him. Now that you’re not so distracted by cock and cum, and the morning light is shining through the curtains, you can see his scars much more clearly. He’s littered in them, some like slashes and others just scarred-over holes.

You have so many questions, none of them leave the tip of your tongue.

“Ask.”

You pause. “Can I?”

Huff.

“Okay,” you trail off. “Why do you have so many scars?”

Tickling your spine with his callouses fingers, he skims your back absentmindedly. You lay your chin on his chest, watching him look at somewhere in the corner of the room, clearly falling fast in an endless hole of memories. This is a rare opportunity to more about the enigmatic wolf-man who showed up at your doorstep in the middle of a snow-storm, claiming to have known your late grandmother.

More silence fills the air. His fingers have stopped.

You nuzzle his jaw with your nose, burying it in his beard. It seems to snap him out of his daze. He grunts once more, licking your cheek, not to taste the salt on your skin, but as if to say ‘thanks’.

“Been on my own for a while. For as long as I can remember, actually. It’s…tough out there. Not everyone is as nice as you and your gran.”

Carefully, you hazard a guess. “Were these from people? Hybrids or normies?”

He gropes your ass like a stress ball.

“Both.”

“I mean, I’ve heard stories of the kind of abuse and discrimination hybrids face from normies, it’s quite prevalent in the city despite recent equality laws but why would your own kid hurt you? Aren’t you all in the same boat? Isn’t there some kind of…camaraderie? Sorry, is that insulting to assume?”

Spanking your ass, he huffs a laugh. “You’re adorable. No, don’t look at me like that, kid. It’s cute of you to think that’s how it works.”

“It isn’t?”

You don’t take offence to his patronising tone; you had expected to be wrong about aspects of hybrid life. Normal, average humans outnumber hybrids at a ratio of four to one. Some hybrids are lucky enough to be passing, kinda like Toji, but others carry visible signs of their anthropomorphic genes. The latter are rarely treated well despite the fact that they’ve existed just as long as normies have. They used to live in their own continents, building large civilisations far more expansive than humans have achieved at that time.

But war is a cruel mistress.

For many reasons, humans and hybrids stayed away from each other. It was only relatively recently they’ve begin co-existing, even inter-mixing. The change has been hard for many people. Perhaps not most of society, but enough to make the idea of living as a hybrid make you grimace.

“Nah,” he says, almost finishing his reply there until he sees your inquisitive eyes and he continues, “there’s lots of different kinds of hybrids. We don’t all like each other. And not all of us running the same race. There’s a lot of competition, suspicion and hatred. ’s always been the case.”

Nodding, you prod further. “And your scars? Did they come from bar brawls or something?”

“Some, yeah. Others from professional fights.”

You perk up.

“Professional fights?”

In a flash, the cover is falling onto the floor and you’re upright once more. Toji’s pushed the both of you up and off the bed, holding you in his arms with his softening cock slipping out of your pussy. You scramble to gain better grip of him.

“Oh my god! Give a girl a little warning. God, Toji! It’s cold.”

He licks your ear.

“Sorry.” He doesn’t sound sorry at all. With ease, he carries you out of your room and into the bathroom. “Let’s wash up and start the day. ‘m starved.”

Rolling your eyes, you let him have this one chance at evading your question; you’re just pleased to have learnt a little more about him. It feels like he’s letting you in, presenting himself openly just for you. For a wild man like him, whose solitary despite his nature, this is the greatest gift he could give you.

Toji’s a thorough washer — he shampoos your hair better than you ever have and not a single crook or cranny gets overlooked. But as soon as you get clean, the so-called day doesn’t get started anytime soon when he falls to his knees and shoves his face into the apex of your thighs, making a loud sniifffff before he growls and laps up the mixed juices of his and your cum.

In next three days that pass, you notice the dynamic between you shifts.

For one, he no longer sleeps in his own room but rather in yours. He follows suit after dinner and removes his shirt, freshly showered and completely bare, and hands it to you wordlessly. You wear his shirt, and only his shirt, to bed.

Lunch is no longer eaten separately. He joins you wherever you are, whether that’s in your room, all warm and cozy under a mountain of blankets, or on the sofa, also all warm and cozy under a mountain of blankets. You watch movies on your laptop and he never argues with your choices. Sometimes he just eats in silence, right beside you, as you read a book or stare out the window.

Toji’s much more touchy now. Before, he was sneaking in grazes and quick gropes, now he’s lost all reservation and politeness. When you’re cooking, stirring something as you hum to music, he creeps up behind you, pinning your body to the counter with his hips and he wraps an arm around your torso to weigh a breast in his palm, squeezing and massaging for his own pleasure.

He’ll tweak a nipple, pushing your hair back to skim his nose against the length of your neck, inhaling deeply and stopping to mouth wet kisses on that bruising around the teeth marks he’s left there. Most times he’ll let you be after he’s had a fill of your softness, but sometimes he kneels behind you and tears apart your pants with a resounding SSSSSNAP! Before he laps up your pussy from behind, food coming out just a little more cooked than you’d like, though he never seems to mind.

And it must be worth mentioning that the sex is constant.

Every night and every morning. It isn’t a stretch to say that you eat, sleep and breathe sex with Toji. Which you honestly can’t complain about. It’s always so rough and so good every time.

However, his insatiable appetite is making it ever so slightly hard for you after — there’s a perpetual soreness in your joints and in your pussy, you find yourself looking behind you to make sure that when you bend down to pick up whatever it is you’ve dropped he won’t be there playing with your cunt with his fingers and/or mouth.

His hearing is incredible.

Sometimes you hide just to time how long it takes for him to find your hiding spot. Longest time was three minutes. The cabin isn’t the biggest in the world but there are plenty of places to hide, like closets, under the bed, behind sofas and doors.

Still hard at work fixing bits and pieces around the cabin, Toji somehow always knows when you’re up to some mischief. Maybe it’s because your heart starts beating faster or because you let out some giggles, envisioning that glint in his eyes and in his teeth when he grins at your pathetic attempts to escape him.

Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because your panties get soaked with anticipation for his rough, calloused hands throwing you over his shoulder and onto a bed, his or yours he doesn’t care, and fucking you into a drooling mess. Sometimes he even gets so impatient, so riled up, he just takes you wherever you are, your face smothered in a pile of folded clothes or against the wall with your panties dangling from an ankle.

Everything has been great. So great in a way you’ve never known greatness to manifest. It’s somewhat akin to, what you can only imagine to be, the completely liberating sensation of flapping your wings and cruising high up in the sky or running through a stream, chasing a fish with no end in sight. It’s the kind of greatness men strive for all their lives but never reach because it’s a greatness they were already born into and never realise.

The routine, the mundane, the ordinariness.

It’s all so great.

At night, you trace nonsensical words and shapes into his skin, smiling at the soft snores that vibrate under your head. You’ve always thought living every day the same as the day before and the day before that as a labyrinth you’ve been sentenced to die in, a cage or a prison of your own making. But now, you can’t imagine ever wanting more.

Of course, it hasn’t been perfect.

You still find some moments a little too boring but those are usually when he’s busy fixing a wobbly chair or grouting the tiles in the bathroom. And you do crave the feeling of driving through a long, empty road, or eating fast food. Those moments, thankfully, are hastily washed away once you feel his calloused hands tethering you back to him.

One other problem you’re having is his beard. As attractive as it is, it’s scratching up your thighs a little too much. You’ve noticed the rash forming between your legs; he has a penchant for eating you out at the drop of a hat and he’s not gentlemanly about it. At. All. You don’t ever want him to stop and the threatening snarl he makes every time you attempt to push him away from your swollen and overstimulated pussy never fails to halt your movements.

So there’s only one solution.

“Toji?” He lazily drags his gaze up your bare legs, stopping by the hard nipples poking through shirt, and then he meets your gaze with a brow raised. “Would you ever consider shaving your beard?”

The growl of ‘no’ comes before you could even finish the word ‘shaving’. His jaw clenches and a muscle ticks.

“But I can shave it for you. Being a woman, it’s kinda part of my existence. I’ll do you up real nice.”

“Hell will sooner freeze over before I let anyone put something sharp against my neck again. Even if they’re you.”

You drop it for now.

At night, after hours of mind-blowing sex, you lay all sweaty and sleepy on his chest once more with a heavy arm slung over your waist. You twist the hairs on his face, rolling a couple strands between your fingers. They’re quite long and thick. You wonder when the last time he had shaved was.

“Please?”

“No.”

You sigh.

The next morning, you’re in the bathroom, sitting on the bathtub and attempting to rub some soothing ointment meant for your face onto the irritated skin of your inner thighs. It’s getting worse and you’re at a loss. Making it hard to walk, you’re cursing every god out there for doing this to you.

Is his aversion to sharp objects near his head because of some trauma or an animalistic instinct? It’s hard to tell with hybrids, as the internet forums you’ve explored lecture — hybrids are both governed by human complexity and base biological instincts. Studies that have been done on them over the year have put forth some credible results but people are quick to put a disclaimer that animals in captivity rarely behave the way they would in the wild.

You sigh again.

Maybe you’ll have to tell him to stop eating you out. You cringe. That won’t go down well, pun intended, and you don’t want him to. Frowning, you carefully massage in the ointment, hissing at particularly sensitive spots.

“Fine. You can shave it off,” he grumbles.

You hadn’t even realised he was standing in the doorway, watching, and scratching his beard like he’s noticing, really noticing, the hairs on his face. One glance at the mirror across the room and he’s furrowing his brows, perhaps baffled at the man staring back at him.

His tone is hostile, but his acquiescence makes you smile.

About ten minutes later, you’ve sat him down on the edge of the bathtub, right where you were before, and you’ve assembled everything you need: razors, scissors, a comb, shaving cream, towels, and a tub of aloe vera to soothe any razor burns. Everything but the aloe vera is pretty pink, and you can’t help but giggle a little as you take a step back to admire this big, burly man surrounded by utterly feminine products.

“Alright, I’ll start by trimming it, okay? I don’t want to come at it straight away and spook you, so let’s take it nice and slow.”

He huffs. “Don’t gotta talk to me like I’m a kid. Do what you gotta do.”

With the scissors and the comb, you cut away at his beard, snipping here and there and trying to get it all even. It’s not an easy job — he growls when you venture too low, past his jawline and closer to his Adam’s apple and when he makes that throaty sound, you’re met with images of him biting into your throat, the way a dog does when you step on its tail.

Terrible as it is to compare a biological human male like Toji to an animal, it’s a fair comparison considering his reliance on his animal instincts. It’s been abundantly clear in the way he uses his senses to gain his bearings, how he never expresses a desire beyond eating, sleeping and fucking. There’s no vanity coursing through his blood, he doesn’t stare at himself in reflections, doesn’t fix up his hair or put on clothes that fit or match, and even how he doesn’t ever say pretty words, only what he means, no more and no less.

It’s nice.

So used to the way people sugarcoated their complaints or hid ulterior motives in every sickly sweet words, adjusting to Toji’s matter-of-fact way of speaking had been somewhat difficult.

But change is necessary. Just as the seasons change, so do animals, even humans. With how they adapt to the change in the wind, the drop in the temperature, the quake in the earth, you know without needing to ask questions or to have more time with him, the hybrid in front of you, part wolf and part man, has never had the luxury of being stagnant.

It was clear when he showed up at your door with no bag, just the clothes on his back and the muddy, worn down boots on his feet. Even fully fed, lounging on the sofa by the fire with his feet and torso bare, you sense the tension freezing his body; he’s always ready to run.

He snarls and flinches when he feels the cold blade of your scissors touch his skin. And then his hand grips your thigh, both in warning and to tether himself, perhaps to remind him you’re not a monster thirsting for blood, his blood, but rather just a woman. A woman he’s seen completely bare, a woman who’s crawled on all fours and nuzzled her face against the seam of his jeans when he returns from fixing a tile on the roof, and a woman who’s laid it all out for him, starting from what led you here and ending to where you want to be.

Uncomfortable and on edge, you already know you’re not going to get very far with the way he’s being. He needs a distraction.

You kiss him. He growls for a different reason this time. Fingers threading in your hair, he holds you down to him, tasting the sweetness you’re offering. He laps it up. “Toji, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Face burying into your neck, he takes a long inhale there. “I know.”

“I’m gonna get started on the shaving cream, okay?”

His grip on you tightens and you know he’s aware that razors are sharper than scissors, much like how his teeth are sharper than yours. You don’t want to know what events he’s lived through to be so hostile against the act of shaving but he isn’t an animal, not fully, anyways.

He’s also a man.

And men conquer.

Even when they shouldn’t.

You slide your panties down, dangling it in the air for a second, hesitating but you see the appraisal in his eyes, always so suspicious like he’s thinking of all the ways one could be killed with a scrap of lace. Dropping it on his face, you tell him, “I don’t see why only one of should be vulnerable here.”

Rumbling a pure sense of bliss, his eyes flutter shut and he sniffs at your panties. His hand flies up to your slit just as you’re smearing shaving cream all over his jaw, pulling the panties away from him for a second.

“Seeing me all tense is getting you soaked?” His lip twitches.

“Hey, now, let’s not even get started on that seeing as you’re pretty hard for someone suffering some internal battle.”

He gives you a rare grin.

The rest of the torture goes on in relative peace — you shave him bit by bit, going slowly and keeping your touch gentle especially as you near the softness of his neck and when you go over it with the razor, he takes a deep inhale of your panties, trying to shake off that unnatural acceptance of something so dangerous, so compromising, so utterly unlike him. After every slither of skin you’ve rid of hair, you give him a kiss which he insists on deepening, shoving fingers into your cunt just to feel you clench down on him.

Soon, he’s completely smooth and it’s only when you step back that you take it all in. He was handsome with the beard and he’s just as handsome now. He also looks more youthful, more boyish, and free.

Toji comes to a stand, staring at himself in the mirror. He doesn’t say a word, neither do you. A barrage of thoughts pass through his mind, flashing and flickering. His fingers feel his skin, jerking at the complete bareness of it all. You can’t tell if he likes it, if he regrets his choice, and if he even recognises the man under all that wild and untamed hair. He had been running so long as a wolf, perhaps he’s forgotten how to walk as a man.

That’s what you think, until he makes some gesture with his hand and he says, “Got no reason to push me away now, so spread those legs, ma. Let’s go for a test drive.”

You don’t leave that bathroom until hours later, sore, wet, sticky and thoroughly blissed out.

The next day, just before lunchtime, Toji goes to chop up some more wood for the fireplace whilst the snow has stopped falling just for today. You’re watching him through a window, bundled up in a blanket holding a steaming cup of hot chocolate, and not at all envious of him, what with the chilling weather and his lack of a coat.

You really have to buy him one. He doesn’t look the least bit cold, which you don’t really understand, but still, something about the picture looks off. It’s not fair you get to be all comfortable, lazing around, and he’s hard at work.

The phone rings.

Your head snaps to the coffee table which your phone lies on, vibrating against the wood. A new number. When you answer, you’re surprised to recognise the voice immediately.

“Hi. Yes, I’m managing quite fine.”

The old man sighs. “How glad am I to hear that. The storm has made it rather hard to get a hold of you and I certainly couldn’t make the journey up.”

“That’s quite alright. I really appreciate the thought, it’s very sweet of you.”

Exchanging pleasantries and talks about the various favours he owed your grandmother, over five minutes pass, and you’re itching to urge Toji back inside, fearing that he could drop dead at any second from the chill.

Eventually, and thankfully, the conversation nears an end with him insisting that as soon as the snow thaws enough you come on down for dinner at his home. He says his sons and their wives all love a good, hearty meal as a family. There are even grandchildren for you to play with should adults not be your speed. “Yes, yes, of course. That sounds great, thank you.”

“Alright, bye, dear. I’ll call back again to check up on you and please remember you can always call on me and my kids for help.”

Humming, you’re about to end the call when his tone changes.

“Speaking of help,” he begins, clearing his throat. “How have you been managing to get on so well?”

Toji’s still chopping wood, swinging that heavy axe back behind his head and down in one smooth strike, cutting the log in a perfect half. You press your legs together, unable to take your eyes off his bulging biceps. You love when he shows off his strength, it comes so effortlessly to him, unlike the men where you’re from whose muscles are all for show, satisfying their own vanity and quelling their insecurities momentarily before they’re inhaling steroids like air.

“Oh, you know, this man my grandmother befriended over the years came by and has been helping me out since. He’s quite familiar with the ins and outs of the cabin so I really couldn’t have done any of this without him. I’d like to bring him along to dinn—“

“A man?”

You frown. “Yeah, Toji. Surely you must have met him at some point since he and my grandmother were quite close.”

“I knew it! I knew I saw him here days ago. Oh, goodness. I’m so sorry you ran into him, but please stay away from him.”

What the hell is this man talking about?

“No, it’s Toji, he helped my granny during the winter months. He fixed things up for her and helped her get around. He was like a friend to her in ways me and my siblings should have been. He’s really nice, you’ll like him.”

The man in question is scratching his jaw, still getting used to being so bare, and he’s rolling his head around as if bothered by some crick in his neck. He’s got an impressive pile of logs waiting to be fed to the fireplace and you know he’s going to head back in any second now. For some reason, you feel guilty, like you’re doing something you shouldn’t be, talking to someone you shouldn’t talk to.

“Y/n, listen to me. Please!” The urgency, the insistence, and desperation in the old man’s voice is palpable, a hand reaching through the screen and choking air right out from your lungs. Your heart begins galloping. “That man is a criminal. He’s wanted, a fugitive! H-he’s a killer.”

Confused and somewhat exasperated, you argue, “No, you’ve got the wrong man. I’m telling you, we’re talking about different people here.”

You can’t shake off the abrupt shift in his voice. From caring old man with a shaky baritone to a firm, military like precision. It’s as if you were talking to a completely different man.

A beat passes and you think he’s hung up, that this odd conversation is over and done with but one glance at the screen tells you differently. He doesn’t say a thing, and all you can hear is the rushing of the wind and grunts and thuds outside.

Irritated by this entire farce, your thumb moves to press the end-call button but then you hear him on the other line.

“Does he have a scar on the corner of his mouth?”

The blood drains from your face.

“H-how did you know that?”

A noise of death and despair reaches your ears. He’s shouting something to someone else, you can hear their alarm, can feel the anxiety, the dread and terror in their voices, muffled as they are. “Get away from him. Get away from him now! Do whatever you can. You mustn’t let him get his hands on you. H-he’s one of them. One of those abominations. A hybrid, a dangerous kind.”

“What are you talking about? Just tell me what’s happening, please, you’re not making sense right now.”

“He killed your grandmother!”

You drop your mug. It shatters by your feet. The creamy chocolate milk pools into a puddle, soaking your socks. There’s ceramic chipping littering the floor and you can’t move, can’t go anywhere without taking a big leap.

Slowly, you look up from your phone screen, hearing subdued questions of fear and panic on the other end. Through the window, you meet Toji’s eyes.

He’s looking right at you.

You hang up.

It takes three seconds for him to get to the door, pushing it open. He shakes off the snow off his boots, banging them against the doorframe, and the axe he had been holding is set down by the shoe rack, the metal clinking, as he enters. Light from the ceiling bulb reflects directly off the sharpest point, shining in your eyes. Are necks harder to cut through than wood?

“Ya alright?”

Plastering a cheerful smile, you nod.

He doesn’t look convinced.

In a blink, he’s in front of you, cradling your face in one cold hand. He tilts your chin back and searches your eyes. He doesn’t seem to find what he’s looking for so he sniffs the air and his eyes darken. Slowly, like you’re a deer, he asks, “What are you so afraid of?”

“Oh, nothing. Really. I was just reading the news online and stumbled across articles about the war in that country in the East, y’know, the one with the hospital bombing. It’s terrible, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t read it,” he says. “Show me.”

Your heart beats impossibly faster. You know he can hear it. There’s no way he can’t with his wolfish hearing and with a finger on your pulse. Maybe that’s why his other hand, just as cold, wraps around your wrist and he tugs it towards him. His nails scrape against your skin and his hand eats up your wrist entirely, middle finger folding over his thumb. At any given second, he can snap the bone there and not bat an eye.

Laughing nervously, you tug your hand back, to no avail. With a forced nonchalant tone, you inform him, “I wanna get all cleaned up. I feel a little icky, and all sweaty and sticky from this morning so I’m just gonna take a nice long bath.”

He lets you shake him off but only after he’s taken the phone out of your death grip. He can’t unlock it, he doesn’t the password. But that was never his intention. He doesn’t even look down on the screen. As fast as you can without looking panicked, you stumble away from his reach and towards the door.

“Y/n.”

Your smile shakes.

“What did they tell you?”

Your smile falls off altogether.

“Toji,” you begin, “p-please, let’s not do this.”

His scar twitches and when he makes a step towards you, you step back. There. You almost missed it, almost blinked and lost your footing. But his eyes unmistakably flicker from you and to the side, by the door, at the shoe rack. You don’t need to turn back to know what exactly he’s eyeing. Calmly, he asserts, “You won’t last an hour outside. You won’t even reach the forest’s edge before I get to you. You don’t know your way down. And if it ain’t me, it’ll be the elements that’ll kill ya. Be wise, kid.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

With the scarlet blanket still hanging off you, you dash towards the door, pulling the shoe rack behind you and the sound of clattering and a thud forces your legs pumping.

You run.

You run and you don’t look back, you don’t stop, not even for a second, not even when your socks are soaked with snow and not melted chocolate. The trees welcome you as you dash in between trunks, lunging over thick roots and dodging low hanging branches. You don’t know where you’re going, where you can go.

A sob rises from your throat, clawing its way out.

He was right. You don’t know your way down and the freeze is creeping in, frosting over your veins and seeping into your bones. The movies show the power of adrenaline all the time, how it’ll wash away any and all feelings that aren’t helpful for survival, but it’s not enough.

Your muscles are aching, your cheeks are burning and your fingers are beginning to itch and tingle. You weren’t meant for survival. You weren’t meant to put up a fight.

When he gets to you, he’ll snuff the light right out of your eyes with one swipe of his arm. You’ve seen what he can do with those hands, you’ve felt the way they wrangled you into position, hell you’ve drooled over the bruises he’s left on you. And you never once thought you’d be running from the hands that dragged you over a cliff of pleasure, that carried you around, and touched you so soothingly.

Without needing to hear heavy footfall, you know he’s after you. You have animalistic instincts too.

A dead woman running is what you are. You were dead as soon as you picked up that phone call.

No.

You were dead the moment you opened the door.

“Fuck!” You scream. Ignoring the ache in your legs and the pain in your ankles, you sprint as fast as you can. Your body’s being pushed to its limits; you’ve never ran like this before. Granted, you’ve never been chased by a murderer either.

The absurd turn of event make you laugh, deranged and broken, and it echoes around the forest. As far as you can see, there’s only trees and snow, perfectly white, pristine snow. There are no roads, no houses, no people. No one to help. No one that can hear you scream.

You should have stayed in the city, should have never left, should have never gotten bored. Spontaneity isn’t your thing and you’re learning it the hard way. There’ll never be an opportunity to put into practice the moral of the story that’s being engraved into your DNA right now. No one will even notice you’re gone — you aren’t close with your family, and you don’t have friends, not really anyways.

There will be no mourning, no grieving, there won’t even be a goddamn funeral.

Heart threatening to tear through your body, you collapse against a tree. You’re panting, chest heaving as you gulp down as much air as possible. The bark scratches your forehead but you can’t muster a shred of care, not when every limb is shaking both from the cold and the effort.

There are an array of shallow cuts all over your arms and face from where low hanging branches have whipped against your skin, attempting to get you in their clutches, to slow you down. The forest isn’t your friend. This isn’t your domain, It’s his.

“Y/n!”

You smother the startled cry with the palm of your hand.

He’s near.

Tears stream down your face, falling onto the snow beneath you. Numb, you briefly worry you’ve lost your feet altogether. One glance down disproves that but you’re still not convinced. You hug the blanket closer around you; it does absolutely nothing to keep the warmth in and the cold out. And yet, you can’t bear to let it go.

“I can hear you.”

Lips quivering, you bite down hard. Iron lays on your tongue. There’s nowhere to go. He had found you so quickly and he knows the forest better than you. How many times had he made the trip to that cabin? How many times had he sought out your grandmother? Had smiled at her, chopped up wood for her, had collected groceries and medicines? How many times had she let him in every time he knocked, every time he emerged from the shadows and soaked up the warmth of her kindness?

What were her last words?

No, please, don’t! Spare me?

Or why, Toji, why?

What will be yours?

A flash of movement catches your eye. He’s not panting like you, he’s not even sweating. When he steps forward, brushing his hair back, you don’t fail to notice he didn’t come empty handed.

His eyes glint, sharper than the axe he carries, and he’s roving over your features, watching you tremble. One sniff and his scar is stretching.

“Y’r afraid.”

“Yeah, no f-fucking kidding!”

Even as he keeps his voice deceptively soft, much like how it is when he’s lulling you to sleep, you can’t stop staring at the axe. That stupid fucking axe he just had to bring with him. You sob.

“Just leave me alone, please.”

Scoffing, he steps closer once more. “Not even gonna ask if I did or didn’t?”

You shake your head.

“Don’t do this. Please, don’t do this.”

He lunges, pinning you to a tree with a forearm to your throat. Radiating heat, your body betrays you and presses closer to him, desperate to envelope yourself in that warmth. You want nothing more than to be back in bed with him, oblivious to the rest of the world. You want to go back to before that phone call and make it so that you never found out, so that you never picked up the damn phone.

Teeth snapping a hair’s breadth away from your nose, he demands, “Ask.”

“Did you?” You scream at him. “Did you kill my fucking grandmother? After everything she did for you? After she showed you kindness and hospitality and gave you friendship? Did you kill her even after she begged? Did you watch the life fade from her eyes knowing she never got to say goodbye to me? To any of us?”

His glare softens. There’s a tenderness swirling in those green eyes, a fervour and understanding that thaws your heart. He looks like the Toji you know, or rather, knew. He looks like the Toji that had pushed himself to trek in the snow for hours so you can be fed, the Toji that kept you company every day, that fixed things without needing to be asked, the one that made you coffee and knew just how you liked it, the one that traced patterns you had drawn him on your skin when he thought you weren’t awake.

“Did you kill her?”

Scar grazing your lips as he inhales the shampoo from your hair, you feel his answer just as well as you hear it.

“Yes.”

A gunshot resounds in the air. It’s sharp and startling, cutting through the crisp silence with a violent roar. The sound lingers in the air, echoing and rattling your bones like it had been fired inside you.

“Get the fuck away from her, beast!”

You turn to the side. A man you don’t recognise is standing metres away holding a shotgun. His face is contorted in rage, creating deep shadows and wrinkles that make him look infinitely older than he likely is. Smoke wisps away from the barrel of his fun, pointed at the sky. A warning shot.

Toji pushes you behind him as he growls.

“Fuck off. She’s mine.”

You trip over your blanket. Through his legs, you see that man lower the gun till it points in your direction. You’re frozen in place.

“Let her go and turn yourself in. An animal like you needs to be muzzled and put down,” the man spits, venom flooding his words. He looks at you. “Come here. My father sent me. You know him.”

Stumbling to a stand on shaky knees, you back away from Toji, going around the tree and making your way to the other side. He doesn’t stop you, just watches every move you make as if you’re standing in a field of landmines. His grip on the axe doesn’t loosen and he makes no sign he’s going to give himself up.

“T-Toji, don’t fight, please just come with us. If you give yourself up, maybe they’ll go easy on you,” you plead.

He growls, grimacing. He’s contemplating it. That means everything to you. In some sick, pathetic joke, you actually pity him. There’s still a huge part of you that cares, that wants what’s best for him, that loves him. But that part needs to be extinguished because he’s a cold blooded killer and he’ll turn those murderous hands on you.

Leg jerking, he makes a step towards you. It feels so right, you mirror his movement, like this one act, one sacrifice makes up for everything, like it erases the sins of his past and washes away the blood on his hands.

“Ahh!” You’re yanked back by your hair.

“Don’t get near him, you stupid bitch! He’s a fucking mongrel.”

The snarl that ripples from Toji’s throat pierces through haze, rustling the branches up above and forcing a flock of birds up and away. He charges towards you, axe raised up high and you shake yourself from the man’s clutches, jumping out of the way just in time before bodies collide and they both fall.

Rolling away, you bundle up the blanket you’re shielding yourself with and cry into it. The sound of bodies being beaten, arms bent, stomachs kicked and necks bitten into make you cringe. You cry harder. You don’t dare look at who’s winning, you can’t bring yourself to look. It’s because you don’t want to see the violence, don’t want to see blood, but there’s a voice screaming that it’s because you’ll die if the one who walks away from this isn’t Toji.

“Don’t fucking touch her!”

“Get the fuck off me! You filthy mutt!”

You’re digging your nails into the bark of a tree, flinching with every blow. You hear fists slamming into flesh, each punch a blunt weapon bruising and breaking, bone-crushing swings whistling through air followed by sharp exhales of pain and vomit-inducing cracks and pops. The struggle is relentless, blow after blow, and you hear the gun clatter as it’s kicked to the side.

SNAP!

“You should have never come back! You should have died on the side of the street after what you did to that woman”

POP!

“Ahhh! Fuck!”

SMACK!

“Ya don’t know shit!”

The trees are spectators, moaning and whistling in protest at the unholy sight, at the splatters of blood contaminating their ranks. The branches shake in warning but no one is listening.

Whimpering, you hum a song, trying to block out the repulsive sounds of senseless violence. You should have never been here. You never visited because you couldn’t stand the isolation of a cabin in the mountains, couldn’t stand the unconditional love your grandmother gave you, of which you knew then and you know now, you were never deserving of.

If you had been dutiful and even had a fraction of her selflessness, you would have taken care of her so that she never relied on a man with sharp senses and a dangerous smile.

If you had been a good granddaughter, that man would be roaming the world, unburdened by material possession and human attachments. He wouldn’t be beating a man black and blue, wouldn’t be tearing flesh from bone, wouldn’t be debasing himself for your sake, or his. You don’t know anymore.

You turn to yell at him to stop, for him to run instead. But your words are swallowed by a gunshot.

A body falls to the floor in a dull thud. Crimson dyes the snow, puddling into a shade so dark you could always persuade yourself it’s not what you think it is. Time slows. You can see every flake of snow pause in the air, you can count them, can collect them in your hands. The wind has disappeared, leaving behind a stillness in the air that’s suffocating, choking you from inside. Even the trees have stopped their moaning.

Your heart stops beating.

Someone stands over the body, holding a smoking gun, and it isn’t who you wanted it to be.

“Toji!” You scramble over, hands shaking harder than ever before.

He’s clutching his chest. Hot liquid drenches your pants. You didn’t realise fresh blood would be so warm and you wish so badly it wasn’t because it means that the warmth that should be inside him is leaving, being absorbed by the ground, by you.

Green eyes, dulling, meet yours. He smiles. “She asked me to. She was in pain. Couldn’t make it down through the snow. She asked me.”

“N-no, stop it. Save your breath, please.” Through your sobs, you turn to the nameless man, pale under the cuts all over his face as the snow and shuddering from the shock of what he had done. “Call the ambulance! Call somebody! Please!”

“C-car. I-it’s in my car.” Staggering back, he drops the gun and fishes out his keys, muttering frenzied apologies under his breath. He limps his way back, weaving through the trees.

Despite having less cuts and bruises, he’s in much worser state. His chest heaves and you’re trying to press down on the wound like you’ve seen in the movies but you don’t know what you’re doing. You don’t know whether you’re supposed to be smothering the hole with a dirty blanket or if you should be performing CPR. No one had ever trained you for this. This wasn’t covered in any of those HR meetings. “Oh, god, Toji. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. Oh. God. I’m so so sorry.”

Lifting a limp hand, he brushes a tear away only for it to be replaced by a hundred more. He huffs a weak laugh at the blood he smears on your face and he tries to brush that away too.

“I’d always wanted to meet you. She spoke of how beautiful, how kind and generous you are. Her favourite. Didn’t believe her, y’know? I thought, no one could possibly be that nice if they never even visit their gran. But I’d always wanted to know for myself.”

You shake your head. He shouldn’t be speaking. He should be saving his breath, should be focusing on keeping awake until help arrives. “Stop. Please, just stop. Don’t waste your energy on me. I-I don’t deserve it. I should have listened, should have heard you out. Oh, god, Toji.”

He huffs an amused laugh. He sounds so clear, so loud, so alive you could actually convince yourself he doesn’t have a bleeding hole in his chest. But you can’t because you can feel the blood flowing out, it’s caking your legs and your hands.

“You wanna know what I think, ma?” Pulling you close, you don’t fight his grip. Through your whimpers, you press your ear to his lips, holding him close like you could will your own warmth to him, like you could jostle you both back to consciousness. “I think y’r even more beautiful than she said. My gorgeous gorgeous girl. Mine.”

It’s unclear if he said anything else after that; you could only hear your own pleadings and sobbing as his arms fall limp and his body grows cold. There came rustling from all over the forest like they heard a tree fell, a mighty and sturdy tree. They warned you. There are consequences to dirtying the snow’s purity, to upsetting the balance. That’s a lesson all animals know. But the battle that had gone on here wasn’t committed by preys and predators. Just men.

And men never learn their lesson until it’s far too late.

The trees cry with you.

For you.

When the marching of people came some time later, all yelling and barking orders to each other, they found you lying on his chest, just as you had for many nights and had imagined you would every night after, with a red blanket pulled over the both of you.

There, silent as a lamb, you slept.

A tear-stricken city girl and her big, bad wolf.

Neither of which would ever live again.

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji smut #fushiguro toji #toji x reader #toji x you #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jjk fic #jjk oneshot #toji oneshot #Toji angst

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townofcadence · 4 months ago

Note

Artair has the knife, but his grip is precarious. He almost drops it, when Ares's claws find his heart. He's dizzy with pain and bubbles froth from his mouth. The hand instead drops to rest on Ares's back, the angle steep enough that it hardly does more than poke a pinprick in the fabric at the shoulder.

There is no breath to catch. There is nothing but the way his body tugs. A heart is no fruit, no grape on a vine. It is a powerful muscle, locked into a chest by tissue and bone and muscle and even the anchoring of blood vessels, arteries and veins that carry blood in their thickened walls to resist the forceful pounds of a heartbeat that will push it to the lungs, back, and then out to the rest of the body. It is like a system of roots, and the heart is the base of the tree.

Ares is strong though. His claws dig into meat and pull and yank, and he can feel every vein and artery jerk through him, like they may well threaten to leave too. He feels Ares use his claws like scalpels when the heart won't budge, clearly trying to take it whole. Gold runs out his mouth, out his eyes and it wavers his vision further, though it is nothing compared to the mess he is above the water, where it paints the ground in buckets and viscera and opalized ribs branded with eyes. His dying sounds are bubbles as his nerves light like the sun to a point he can't even fathom where he is or what's happening. He's cold. It hurts. It hurts and his chest is so silent.

He doesn't remember there is a knife in his hand, as bubbles still spill to leave him. Without lungs he will die. Without his heart he will die. This limbo with neither is agonizing and endless. He's hollow. Cold. Burning. It's seeping into him, running over his skin like a chilling frost of numb that bites.

He has a knife. There is a knife in his hand. He is holding it. Ares is there. Ares is watching.

Fire burns in him at the thought, keeping the cold at bay. Ares is right there. Ares is right there and he's fucking----- doing this. He's fucking killing him, he can see the molten gold of his own heart and the pink of Ares's tongue before it dips in gold. He can see the way his own blood smears on his cheek faintly through the rippling water. The ripples fade with no air to disturb them. Ares is still distorted by water as it fills his own mouth and windpipe and where his lungs should have been. Some finds his stomach and it is so cold. Ares is speaking but he can't understand. He is looking at the knife. The knife. The knife in his hand.

It twitches. He feels his cold fingers twitch. His vision is off, his head is wrong. He focuses on that fire still in his chest, staring at Ares. He's not dead yet. Dying but still here. He's so fucking tired of being the victim. Desperate, out of control, like a cornered animal that just ends up on a leash.

He can't kill Ares. He's done that and it didn't work. Ares is still here. But he knows what he values.

Artair drags that hand just a little further, just below the base of Ares's scalp. He can't reach all of it, but he gathers what he can like he is trying to pull Ares back. He pulls it taut. And then, he lets the blade find the furthest edge of that curtain of hair, and pulls like a ripcord through the tensed strands. They part easily to such a sharp blade, and he watches with that last bit of strength ebbing as that curtain falls, and the sky is lit by stars.

His hand falls into the mud and his eyes drift up towards them, away from Ares. To a better last sight. And with his eyes on the silvery reflection as it passes through water and shines on his face, Artair goes limp in the river.

It is the final struggle for now, and Ares revels in how deliciously gory it's turning out to be. Of course, it isn't the first time he's taken Artair's heart from his chest and certainly won't be the last, but it still hasn't lost its charm yet. There are as many ways to reach the heart as your imagination can conjure after all, and Ares has nothing but time on his hands.

That and copious amounts of blood, of course.

He doesn't bother trying to stop it when Artair grabs for his knife. What could he even do, stab him again? His outfit is already ruined-- he might as well! And oh it would be so fun watching him struggle even more. Struggle to stay alive so he can get a few more scratches in.

He leans in just a bit closer as his fingers finally find the rabbiting muscle in Artair's chest. "Oh mon cher... do I really make your heart pound that hard?" He teases, rending the heart from its bloody confines. He makes certain that the other can see as he runs his tongue along its still quivering length, dripping blood and viscera. "Go ahead, pet, if you're going to try stabbing me in the back. It's only a matter of time now until you die-- do you think you even have the strength for it anymore?"

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m1ckeyb3rry · 2 months ago

Text

“He’s the prince of Kremnos,” your husband said when your shock stretched on. “A right beast, I’ll say. We almost fell to his efforts, but in the end, we bested him — as you can see. What do you think? Do you like him?” “He’s — it’s — horrible,” you said, your skin crawling the longer and longer you stared at the prince, your words a jumble, your head spinning. You wanted to be anywhere but in this courtyard, in front of this fallen man, who was kept alive for — for what? For amusement? For play? As a gift? “Isn’t he?” your husband said, patting you on the shoulder with a grim smile. “And now he is yours.”

Series Synopsis: When the husband you’ve never met returns from the war you’ve never understood, he comes bearing a strange and inexplicable gift — a prince in chains who he refuses to kill.

AO3 Link

Current Word Count: 37.2k

Status: Complete

Pairing: Mydei x F!Reader

Content Warnings: reader is mostly referred to as “lady” (y/n is also used but sparingly), fantasy au (we’re not making it onto the astral express w this one gang), i make up lore + magic because i can, i world build also because i can, relationship dynamics many would consider…interesting…(please remember that depiction ≠ condoning), mydei is a prisoner of war, reader’s mega awful terrible UNNAMED husband is like. annoyingly present., there’s more going on than you think, political machinations and shit, likely mentions of war and violence and blood and gore, also torture/death/murder, honestly just expect the worst i haven’t finished writing this by any means but it’s not going to be pretty, no smut though dw i’m incapable of that, also mydei is probs ooc idk i haven’t played amphoreus yet i just think he’s handsome so here we are

PART ONE: PANTHERA

PART TWO: ALAUDA

PART THREE: SUS SCROFA

#hsr fandom please don’t block me i promise this isn’t that bad…also lowkey may delete if i don’t feel like finishing LOL #mydei x reader #mydei x y/n #mydei x you #mydei #hsr x reader #hsr #honkai star rail #reader insert #fantasy au #m1ckeyb3rry writes #m1ckeyb3rry masterlists #threefold

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maneskinwh0re · 6 months ago

Text

ghostface!sevika x feminine!reader 👻

impulse fic for arctober 29th {sevika day}

men/minors dni, nsfw 18+

middle pic art creds to @ guccipussay 🖤

╔═══════ ☆ ·:*¨༺ ♱ ༻¨*:· ☆ ═══════╗

cw: dom!sevika, sub!reader, cnc, a man…(reader has a bf but dw he don’t last long :3), blood, gore, violence, cheesy horror movie clichés, implied murders, mask k!nk, choking, kn!fe play, wlw smut!

╚═══════ ☆ ·:*¨༺ ♱ ༻¨*:· ☆ ═══════╝

♱ halloween night — you sit next your boyfriend, cuddled up on the couch with your legs draped over his lap. his eyes linger up and down the black lingerie dress that hugs your curves, while your own eyes are focused on the horror movie playing on the tv.

♱ saw. a great franchise and the original being one of your all time favorites. as you watch, with every jump scare, your boyfriend grabs at your waist or tickles you, which is usually followed by you screaming and then playfully hitting his arm or chest.

♱ you want to like him. you do like him, but he gets on your nerves. yeah — you often go on errand trips and gym sessions with him and yeah — while you’re there, he occasionally flirts with other women when he thinks you aren’t looking. but spending your favorite holiday with him is a must. after all, what could go wrong with a simple horror movie marathon? everything is perfect, yet the night is still young.

♱ the city has been getting more and more dangerous recently, and as the clock nears midnight, all the kids must’ve gone home. the neighborhood is quiet with the exception of owls and chirping crickets.

♱ suddenly, the movie is interrupted by your phone ringing — a call from an unknown number.

♱ typically, you don’t answer a call unless the number is in your contacts, but your boyfriend irritably pauses the movie and insists you pick it up.

♱ with an agitated sigh, you answer. “hello?”

♱ “hello,” the person says on the other line. the voice is deep with a feminine undertone, laced with a rasp that almost catches you off guard.

♱ “who is this?”

♱ “you tell me your name, i’ll tell you mine.”

♱ “i don’t think so. can i help you?”

♱ “i just gotta ask you one question, baby.”

♱ baby? who does this creep think she is? you can’t help but admit her voice sounds attractive. “yeah? what is it?”

♱ “what’s your favorite scary movie?”

♱ your stomach drops and you end the call with a shudder, tossing your phone to the cushion next to you and breathing slow. something in your gut is telling you not to engage.

♱ “so… who was it?”

♱ “probably just some bratty teenagers prank calling or something.”

♱ “you lying to me?”

♱ “no! what?” you blurt out, almost angered with his distrust towards you. with a huff, you push yourself off your boyfriend’s lap and head towards the bathroom. “keep it paused, gimme five.”

♱ after rinsing your face with water, you take some deep breaths in front of the mirror. calm your nerves, it was just a phone call. the tense feeling in your gut still lingers as you walk back to the living room only to see your boyfriend is nowhere to be found. calling out his name, you sit back down on the couch and pick up your phone to dial his contact.

♱ “ugh- i’m not in the mood for this shit!” you yell out to him as you call his phone.

♱ you hear his phone ring in the other room and decide to make your way to the kitchen. you see it buzz repeatedly on the counter, watching it and zoning out as if waiting... something’s not right. where the hell is he?

♱ “your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messaging syste-” the sound of your call going to voicemail snaps you back to your senses before hanging up and looking around. you’ve seen too many scary movies to know this is how it all starts, and you try not to let the thought freak you out.

♱ startling you again, your own phone buzzes. unknown caller id. taking a deep breath, you tap the green button on your screen. “hello?”

♱ “hello again, beautiful.”

♱ that damn voice again. your anger rises at the woman on the other line. “what is this? some kind of sick joke? a prank?”

♱ “no no, baby. a game. a real easy one. y’ wanna play?”

♱ “what the f… do i have a choice? what’s stopping me from hanging up right now?”

♱ “maybe it’s your fear that you may not live through this very night.” yeah, right. anyone could make threats like this. she continues through your silence, “you never told me your name…”

♱ “why do you wanna know my name?”

♱ “i wanna know who i’m looking at.” your anger fizzles and breath hitches. fear smothers all the oxygen in your lungs and words are caught in the back of your throat. “you do have a choice, dove— to play or to die.”

♱ “fine,” you agree with a shaky breath, you internally scold yourself for turning to grab the nearest knife. who cares if you’re overreacting? you’re not dying tonight. you grip the knife’s handle tight as you hold your phone up to your ear. you start walking out the kitchen and down the hallway before your question is cut off with her single word. “how do i-”

♱ “colder...”

♱ you stop in your tracks. as a horror film fan, you have yelled at your television screen when a character makes a dumb decision or if you’ve wanted a better plot line. you always thought you would make logical choices if you were ever —hypothetically of course— put in a situation like this. but in this current moment, your head is only clouded with uneasy thoughts and vicious worry. you take a step backwards and start to return to the kitchen.

♱ “warmer… warmer,” her voice trails on as you play the game step by step. you pass the living room and enter the kitchen, stopping when you hear her voice again. “ah ah- cold.”

♱ you turn around and slowly creep your way back to the living room. the thought of her eyes constantly watching causes you to feel a mixture of fear and something else. your short steps continue towards the sofa where you sat care-free maybe only 10 minutes ago.

♱ “warmer… warmer… keep moving, baby. you’re doing so good… red hot. riiight there...” the mysterious woman taunts as you look around. and once you catch the sight behind the couch, you can’t help the horrified gasp and shriek that escapes your lips.

♱ your boyfriend lays motionless, face down on the floor in a pool of his own blood. deep gashes and slices have left his body mutilated. yet no weapon is left anywhere.

♱ fuck. this means she’s already in the house. your heartbeat races and your ears start ringing. no- that’s the phone—the sound of a dial tone. she hung up.

♱ you go to grab a bigger knife from the kitchen but they’ve all been taken. what’s the next best weapon? the only other option you see is the dirty pan that’s been left on the stove from dinner. looks like you’re sticking with the smaller knife you grabbed earlier.

♱ your phone goes off again, causing you to yelp at the ringer and then internally curse yourself for being so jumpy. it’s her again. you try to sound confident, but anxiety and dread involuntarily rises from the back of your throat. “what the fuck do you want?”

♱ “you, baby,” her voice is low and sultry, and you try not to let it get to you.

♱ “you’re psychotic…”

♱ “hm… sorry about your boyfriend. all those muscles didn’t help much,” she replies before ending the call again.

♱ you wander the house, preparing yourself to fight at every corner you turn. “where are you, motherfucker?” you whisper to yourself as you start to creep down the hallway. and before you realize what’s happening, a gloved hand reaches around to cover your mouth from behind, muffling your panicked scream that follows.

♱ your phone drops to the floor as you quickly swing your arm back to stab the tall figure behind you. your aggressive attempt to defend yourself is reversed as the woman dodges the knife and spins you so you’re now pinned against the wall. her right hand still muffles your mouth and the left holds your wrist above your head.

♱ your hold on the knife above you is weak as you freeze in her grip, your free hand clawing at her forearm. you can feel the size of her muscular arms in your struggles. once your vision clears, your squirming slows to a stop as you are face to face —or face to mask— with your intruder. her towering figure is clothed in black-hooded fabric and a long black and white mask is layered over her head, its mouth shaped as if screaming.

♱ you breathe through your nose in short gasps. “look at you… even prettier up close.” she tilts her head as if studying you. you’re unable to see her eyes but it’s obvious she’s looking you up and down as if you’re her next meal. “scream for help and you die. y’ got that, angel?” her hand tightens its grip on your mouth and her tone is short and stiff, like a merciless general commanding orders to a feeble soldier. you confirm you understand with a small nod, eyes still welled with tears until you soon blink them away. once your breaths even, she lowers her hand. “there you go, now was that so hard?”

♱ “what the fuck do you want from me?” you ask accusingly, making sure to not get caught up in anger. luckily, your shaky words don’t provoke her and only bring her to a deep chuckle.

♱ “such naughty language,” she says with a tut, almost amused with your fear as she lifts your chin with a gloved finger. you try so hard to push away the butterflies that form in your stomach. “besides, i thought we went over this already.” she lifts her leg between your thighs, teasingly pressing her knee up against you and trapping your body against the wall. a short gasp escapes your lips at the sensation, and she smirks under her mask. she uses this position as leverage to take the knife from your grip and lazily toss it down the hallway. the sudden sound of it clattering to the floor makes you flinch and her hands quickly return to your wrists, pinning them high above your head. “i’m not going to hurt you, angel,” she whispers, her disguised face leaning in close. “not unless you want me to…” and at the end of her sentence, your name rolls off her tongue. how the hell does she know your name?

♱ “y-you’re a damn creep,” you spit back less harsh than intended, and she can tell your barriers are wavering. if you’re being completely honest with yourself, it’s difficult to focus on your frustration when her actions are affecting your body like this. your mind is fuzzy, your chest feels tight, and your core aches. a moment passes as you stare at the woman in front of you, her broad build dominating your figure. the flesh of your bare thighs involuntarily clench on either sides of her knee. you’re in short, black lingerie… of-fucking-course you’re feeling vulnerable in her arms. “what ‘re you gonna do to me then?”

♱ “only things you want me to do, sweetheart.”

♱ and at this, she has you. her words bring a breathy whimper from your lips and you grind yourself against her knee. like a slut. you’re not proud, but it feels good— fear and distress not dissipating but mixing perfectly with pleasure. it’s exhilarating. intoxicating. arousing. it’s a way you’ve never felt before in relation to sex, with your boyfriend or anyone else for that matter.

♱ “y’ dirty little thing. you like this? tryin to get yourself off at the threat of your fuckin life?” she asks, her degrading tone not doing anything to help you come to your senses. “if y’ want help, jus’ use your words.”

♱ “h-help… please,” you nod up to her, squirming and going to cover your face with your hands until you're reminded of her own gloved hands restricting you by the wrists. you want to hide— hide from her, from your shame, from the lust, from your lack of wanting to fight whatever this is. but as soon as she lowers her hand to feel how wet you are through the fabric of your underwear, all negative thoughts abandon your mind.

♱ “give up the fight, dove.” the masked woman’s voice is rich and warm, and you finally pinpoint her subtle puetro rican accent while she speaks. she feels you relax into her hand at her words and loves hearing the quiet sounds you make as one of her fingers slowly circle your clit through the thin, dampened material.

♱ “i give up- i… i give up. please, just-”

♱ “you want me inside you, baby?” she whispers into the nape of your neck, the bloodied plastic of the mask grazing across your exposed collarbone. your hurried nod cues her to remove her right glove, and her left hand lazily shoves it in the back pocket of her black jeans under her cloak. you catch a glimpse of her veined hand before she pushes your underwear to the side and thrusts two thick digits into your wet cunt. you clench around her middle and ring fingers, watching how white rings of cum drip and gather at the dark skin of her knuckles.

♱ her free hand trails up your chest and grips you by the neck, squeezing lightly and bringing a strained moan from the back of your throat. “been watchin' you for a while now. 've seen the way your fingers wrap around this throat as you touch yourself, thinkin' no one could fill those filthy desires o' yours.” your hands grasp at her forearm again and force her grip harder against you. she chuckles once she realizes what you’re trying to do, and decides to give you what you want, a tightening hold that's hard enough to leave bruising. “you like my hand right here? choking the damn life outta you? y're a sick little slut, it’s adorable.”

♱ as her long fingers thrust and curl inside your heat, you find yourself at her mercy while she fucks you against the wall. the thought of your boyfriend's cold, rotting body in the other room is long gone. and you can only focus on how warm this womanly murderer feels against you, killing just so she can get to you. now that thought is what makes you weak in the knees.

♱ “can y' keep yourself standing, baby? or do i need to fuck you on the floor?” she asks as her fingers quicken their movements.

♱ “mph- i can stand!” you insist, trying so hard to keep your jelly knees from buckling under your limp self. you feel your back start to slide down the wall, disproving your protest. you're visibly unable to hold up the weight of your own trembling body. it's not your fault your trespasser just makes you feel so fucking good. so fucking close... until she stops.

♱ her fingers pull out quickly and she seizes one of your arms, not bothering to wipe your juices off her fingers. you feel how soaked two of her fingers are as her large hand grips your upper arm, tightening to a painful squeeze.

♱ “clearly, you don't have the strength. so we're gonna try s'mthin' new,” she says before tearing your underwear off and throwing you to the wooden floor. you lay there for a moment, shock hitting you as you try to take in oxygen again. facing away from the intruder, you bring your forearms close and try to crawl towards the other end of the hallway. your hips roll to the side with every other crawl so you can rub your thighs together, attempting to recreate that same friction you felt seconds ago.

♱ in the state of hysteria, you miss the foul act of the masked woman tucking your underwear into the other back pocket of her pants.

♱ you turn your head up to see her slowly bending down to pick up the kitchen knife she tossed away minutes ago. you see the back of her head through an opening in the mask's fabric. her dark hair is short, maybe reaches just past her ears. but any further sight of her human characteristics are cut short once she stands up and her posture straightens. her head turns to you. and your breath quickens. she begins walking. every brisk step passes faster than the last as she gains more speed down the hallway, knife clutched in her fist.

♱ is this how it truly ends? a trick to get edged and then end up killed? some scary movie.

♱ alarms blare in your mind and genuine fear takes over as you try to crawl away. prey chased by predator. think y' know who wins in this twisted game.

♱ a gloved hand clutches the flesh on your shoulder and flips you onto your back. you can't seem to help your panicked scream that erupts into the fabric of that same damn glove. she removes her palm with a forceful shove away and pins both your wrists to the floor on either sides of your head. she lowers her body on top of you and straddles your hips, shushing you and reassuring she won't hurt you.

♱ you almost believe her until your frightened eyes watch her arm lift, the knife held tight in her fist. she brings it down hard causing you scream again and squeeze your eyes shut, too scared to watch how she guts you. when you don't feel any pain, you peek an eye open to watch her laugh. laugh at your terror, knife still in hand.

♱ rightfully pissed off now, for both fearing for your life and the pleasure she has delayed you of, you spit up at her ghost of a face. your saliva scatters across the plastic, but surely she felt mist of it directly through the patches of the eyes and mouth. she pauses. and if only you could see that sadistic smirk of hers, just so proud of your little defiant act.

♱ but every bad action has its consequence.

♱ the knife lifts again and is slammed down into the floor, just inches to the right of your head. the handle points up to the ceiling and your ghostface girl guides your hand up and wraps your fingers around it, then follows suit and wraps her own left hand around the handle as well. it's sentimental, you tell yourself as you focus on calming your breathing.

♱ her right hand trails down your chest and returns to its place at your cunt. she teases a finger before pushing in two again, and you can't tell how long she keeps delaying your needed orgasm. one moment, you're a pleading mess. the next, you can't speak because her gloved hand clutches at either your mouth or throat. she smells of dried blood and alcohol, bringing you close only to pause her movements for the second time.

♱ “please, i can't keep doing this. i... need to-” your begs are cut off by her taunting words.

♱ “need to what?” she asks, her mask leaning close to your face. ��say it.” her intensity rises a blush to your cheeks, and when you can only let out a shy whimper, she withdraws her fingers from your aching heat again.

♱ ignoring your protests, fusses, and pouts, she shoos your hand off the knife's handle next to your head and yanks it out of the floor in one swift movement. she trails the sharp point of the blade down your torso, from your chest all the way to your mound. you can't help the little buck of your hips as the cold metal lightly grazes your clit.

♱ that little movement brings her to a chuckle. “i know a lot o' things about you, dove. but i wasn't sure you'd crave knife play this badly.”

♱ you can only muster a strained groan. and with that, she flips the weapon and gently pushes the handle into your soaking walls. the most provocative of sounds is brought at the contact, and it's music to her ears. she groans in satisfaction and ogles at how well you take it.

♱ her thrusts are slow, careful, gentle, turning and pushing and pulling... mindful of how easily she could injure the flesh of your inner thighs or even your pretty pussy with one wrong move. her skilled hands work you up again, probing your body with her calloused skin.

♱ you feel that knot in your core grow tighter and tighter. in a moment of impulse, your shaky hands reach up to grab hold of the ghostface's mask and pull it up to reveal your intruder's real identity. she just lets you, casually watching your wide-eyed reaction to her appearance as she fucks you faster.

♱ she's fucking gorgeous. you first notice her eyes, a shining grey in contrast to her darker skin. her nose is wide and hooked, her lips are plump and soon turn upward in a sly smirk as you study her. she notices your focus lingering at her lips, so she allows herself to lean in and place a light kiss to your slightly open mouth. your jaw is slack as you continue to take staggered breaths, yet you want more. you chase the kiss once she begins to pull away. connecting your panting mouth to hers again, she pushes her tongue into your mouth with a groan and swallows every sweet whimper she brings from the back of your throat.

♱ the handle of the knife continues to pump in and out of your leaking cunt. she knows you won't last much longer. you can't. you break the kiss at the last possible moment to gasp for air, and she uses that short second to pull her ghostface mask back down with her gloved hand.

♱ she wants her lips to be on yours again, but she'd be damned if she returns to the sensation. she's already internally scolding herself for becoming too attached to the taste of you, but she is just loving how you make vulgar curses sound sweet in the ways they spill from your panting lips. “f-fuck, fuck! i'm gonna-”

♱ “i know, baby, i know,” she says, her deep voice slightly softens as she speeds up her pace and grazes your clit with her thumb. “sevika,” her deep voice mutters close to your ear. and when you bite her clothed shoulder as a way to mute your own uncontrollable whimpers and moans, her gloved hand returns a threatening squeeze to your throat. after forcing you back down to the floor, she speaks again. “scream for sevika. scream my name as you cum on my fingers, dove...”

☆ ·:*¨༺ ♱ ༻¨*:· ☆

♱ blue and red lights move across the walls through the windows. the blaring sounds of sirens are heard from outside. you think you find peace until you hear muffled yells from police officers at your front door, warning anyone who is in the entryway that they're breaking it down. you hear a countdown and loud pounding, but the ringing in your ears is louder.

♱ by the time the officers run down the hallway and get a sight of you, there's scattered radio chatter followed by paramedics springing into action and bombarding you with questions.

♱ “ma'am, can you hear me?” ... “can you tell me your name?” ... “have you been stabbed?” ... “is there anyone else in the apartment with you?” ... “who did this?”

♱ you're coughing and sputtering. your body is in a heap of blood, sweat, and tears (and cum but it's not as noticeable). at this point, you only remember little flashes.

♱ sevika. you never got to tell her how pretty that name is. you remember the outlines of her face. the trace of her fingers... the trace of that knife before it was plunged into you. not deep, nor anywhere vital. you remember being in that post-orgasm gaze... a whisper in your ear — “for evidence...” — and then a sharp pain sliding its way in and out of your side, bringing you to a pile of blood and pained tears on the floor. you were already covered in sweat — she had made sure of it, but then she had to go ruin you again. ruin your body twice.

♱ a flashlight is shining in your eyes, bringing you back to the present as well as attention to the obvious growing blood stain in your clothing. your breathing becomes strained and labored as your vision starts to cloud.

♱ “victim has three visible injuries-” you overhear paramedics take note of your body's condition as they bring in a stretcher to carry you. “stab wound and two abrasions, neck and chest...”

♱ a subtle grin sneaks its way onto your face once you realize why sevika left you in an open pile on the floor. she didn't want to kill you, but she also didn't want to see your name in a court file. seems like getting found with a stab wound would lower your chances of being high suspect for your boyfriend's murder. they have no other leads so far, but sevika made it seem like you were at the wrong place at the wrong time.

♱ you know police will pester you with further questions and investigations, but you don't care. your lips are sealed.

╔═══════ ☆ ·:*¨༺ ♱ ༻¨*:· ☆ ═══════╗

♡ this was so rushed i actually don’t like it but WHATEV

♡ hope y'all enjoyed! lmk if y'all want this to be a series bc i love halloween too much to only post spooky themes once a year...

- 🐝

╚═══════ ☆ ·:*¨༺ ♱ ༻¨*:· ☆ ═══════╝

tag list: @lovinglywriting ♡

#sevika #sevika x reader #ghostface #sevika arcane #arcane sevika #sevika edit #scream #happy halloweeeeeeen #bee #maneskinwh0re #lesbian

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0coffeeplease0 · 23 days ago

Note

uhh forsaken killers and survivors w a shelly reader from Dw?Like the particular reason they got forsakened was because they kept on getting ignored?

Yessir as shelly main I will do it.

Anyways I was mostly inspired by that headlock meme ivyfideo made in tik tok.

Forsaken Survivors + Killers x Forsakend Shelly GN Reader

Note: this is gonna be a one-shot and headcanon.

Warnings: Violence, Blood, Death, gore, bad words :)

NOTICE ME NOW...

☆~~♡~~☆

You were fixing a machine, the round had started not long ago. You start hearing footsteps you look around to see Noob, you waved, and Noob looked like he hadn't noticed it. You should have expected that.

Everyone ignored you, forgot about you, you were and outcast, not even the most decent people like Dusekkar noticed you.

You start to remember how the others acted with you, Elliot would have given someone else a slice of pizza while they have more HP than you do, you had asked Elliot if you could have a slice but he always acted as if you're invisible...

The killers, they don't seem to notice you either, but if you get in their way they won't hesitate to kill you. You were tired of it, tired of being the one who is forgotten, you just want them to notice you and talk to you...and in this round that would be the final straw.

You were running away from the killer, you tried to find Shedletsky or Chance to help, of course, everyone was gathered around together. They seemed had to notice the killer, but not you, before the last second of the timer stopped everything...everything was pain.

You fell to the ground and looked down, you were cut in half by the last second, you try to get someone to help you but they walk past you...

You feel anger, a feeling you haven't felt before.

Fine.

If they aren't going to notice you while being friendly then they will notice you by murdering them.

You felt your body transforming, it was all painful.

With the survivors.

Noob was talking with elliot he seemed worried for you, he had spoken about it with Elliot but Elliot only told him, "Don't worry about them I'm sure they are ok."

He feels guilty for ignoring you most of the time, maybe he could try and make it to you...that is if he dosent forget you in the process. Noob kept walking right behind the others, but he stopped for a bit, he heart loud footsteps before he could react something had chomped down on his neck, he couldn't scream, Noob felt the teeth of whatever was biting on his neck, sink deeper. Then, crunch...

Everyone turned around, everyone was shocked, it was you...you were different, your torso, composed of an exposed rib cage which looks like a dinosaurs bone, with the tips of each rib sharpened. Your entire skeletal torso is covered in some black gooey substances.

Then you attack, clawing at Elliot in the chest, Elliot had little time to recover as you had stomped on his head, blood splattering. The others ran, a new timer has been set, you began you're chase.

You were after Dusekkar, you were after him, you were so fast, Dusekkar felt his stamina drain he was getting tired, but before he could worry any longer, Shedletsky had striked. He had stunned you...but it didn't last long as you came back to your senses quickly, and swung your tail, hitting Shedletsky, and he was sent flying until he hits a wall, before he could get up and make a run, your clawed hand had grabbed Shedletsky by the neck and 'snap'.

Dusekkar who had witnessed this, felt helpless, he wondered why you turned this way... but of course he knew why...everyone had forgotten about your existence, and they were to blame for it...and he felt guilty. But suddenly Dusekkar felt a pain, something was, no, something chomped down on his head, but then it all went black.

It wasn't long as you killed everyone 1 by 1, the satisfaction you had felt even if anger was still drowning you, you looked around to admire what you had done, blood surrounded the place scared across the walls, limbs, guts...

As you ripped Chance's vocal cords out with your clawed hands the timer ended.

After everyone had recovered from the events they looked at Builderman who was holding a chart, the new killer...was you...and they knew that you were a serious threat, but they all were guilty of the way you had become...

☆~~♡~~☆

☆Headcannons☆

Noob

•He felt very guilty.

•He blames himself for everything that had happend with you.

•He is afraid of you.

•He wants to apologize but he knows that if he does, his apologies will fall to deaf ears.

Elliot

•Elliot feels even more guilty, he has seen you almost die but he never gave you a slice.

•He thinks that if he had healed you sooner you would still be you.

•He regrets not helping you or even noticing you.

Chance

•He genuinely feels like cr4p, He knew you were real, that you actually had feelings but he never talked to you.

•He feels slightly guilty, but he's more worried on how to outlive you in the rounds.

Two Time

•Did the Spawn punish them?

•they think that it's your fault.

Guest 1337

•He is more worried on how everyone can survive you, bit you were to big to even do much, you had changed into something dangerous.

•He does feel guilty, he has noticed you, has walked by you, but never really said anything to you.

Shedletsky

•He feels like an a-hole, but he can't feel guilty at this time, he needs to find a strategy to make sure no one dies much whenever it's your turn in rounds.

Builderman

•Feels bad for you, but he dosent have time for those feelings after you had demolished his machines in one go, he needs something stronger.

007n7

•Very guilty, he knows it's not entirely his fault in why you became a killer, but he also knows that you had a good reason to.

•He fears you, he really does, he wonders just how creative you can get with killing.

Dusekkar

•He saw it all coming but he didn't think that it would be so soon, still shaken up after what he had witnessed.

•Even if you are long gone, he makes sure to keep your stuff clean, that dinosaur book you had in there? Not a single spec of dust.

Taph

•Youa re a bigger threat, he can see it, but he knows that he has to deal with it.

•He wishes to help you go back to who you were before, but if you did, they would keep forgetting you...

☆~~♡~~☆

Kilers

1x1x1x1

•After he had spectated, they haven't said a word, she tried to talk to you but you had snapped at him.

•He knew you were going to be a very strong killer, maybe he could try and manipulate you.

John Doe

•He didn't do much after what had happend.

c00lkid

•He thinks you are so cool like this but also he is terrified, after spectating you he had witnessed the way you killed his dad, this made him scared...

•But you wouldn't hurt his dad like that if he asked you kindly, right?

Azure

•Thinks that it was Two Time who had provoked you.

☆~~♡~~☆

Ending note: ima leave it here I'm doing this at 4:08 a.m. because I couldn't sleep and now I feel tired.

#forsaken #forsaken x reader #roblox forsaken #roblox forsaken x reader #dandys world x forsaken

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stellasdrafts · 2 months ago

Text

Wanted/Woman (Arthur Morgan)

Summary: two stranger outlaws find themselves captured by bounty hunters (Arthur Morgan x outlaw!Reader)

Word Count: 3.8k

Content: female reader, capture and bindings, violence and death, light gore, mentions of infertility, forced proximity, manipulative reader, enemies? (not quite but they dislike each other) to tension, crude language, male slander

Notes: surpriseeee new hyperfixation (dw will still be writing for leon too!! just added a new fictional man to the roster yum). i imagine mid-honor Arthur for this :) (also idk shit about guns so bear with me thanks). this is kind of an amateurish attempt of mine at criticizing misogyny bc i’m pissed off about today’s political climate. cliché on purpose.

The last thing you remember before going dark is the stinging pain of being pistol-whipped in the face by some bounty hunter’s grimy revolver.

As your consciousness comes to, you see flickering firelight from behind your eyelids. Even before you open them, you mentally curse at yourself for even letting yourself get in this situation in the first place. You had always prided yourself on your talent of finding secluded areas to camp out in. As well hidden as they could be when your picture was plastered on fences and announcement boards across three states with a bold, capitalized WANTED above it, anyway. You suppose you had gotten comfortable – sloppy. You slipped up and somehow those bastards found the shitty abandoned house you were using as a hideout, ambushing you while you were stubbornly focused on patching up a hole in one of your boots.

It takes you a moment to gather your surroundings in the haze of post-unconsciousness. The tent you’re being held in is hot, despite it being dark outside. The air is thick – stuffy and incredibly unpleasant. The smell of animal carcass lingers on the canvas as if it had recently been used to hold some hunt. You hear the muffled sound of men discussing by the campfire roaring outside – something rather serious, you assume by the tone of their voices. It doesn’t sound like too many of them, only two by the clean back-and-forth flow of their conversation. Somehow, the most obvious detail of your capture is the one you register last – the burn of rope at your wrists and feet, and the warmth of another body at your back. You’re bound to someone.

Your heart rate picks up at the sudden realization and you tug, beads of blood drawing at your skin. You’d typically consider yourself a rational person, but with the fog of having just woken up, your brain jumps to the worst conclusions. There’s no way of knowing if the person behind you has been shot dead already, they’re completely still… That is until he speaks.

“Would you stop that? Rubbin’ your wrists raw won’t help either of us.”

Take a breath. You’re better than this. The bounty hunters outside are men, and now you know the person behind you is one as well. Maybe some good old feminine charm could be your ticket out of here. It wouldn’t be the first time your conniving passive woman act got you out of scrapes. They might kill the man first, anyway.

You look around, making sure to make him feel you squirm. Your breath quickens and you summon a more proper accent. You won’t go down. Not like this. “W-What the hell is happening?”

The man’s body shakes lightly behind you – the sonofabitch is chuckling. “Oh, quit playin’ dumb. I saw you when they brought you in. You got posters from here to Colter.”

You make sure to yank at your ropes the way a panicked woman would. He hisses at the pain and you’re glad you don’t have to hide your prideful grin. “No, I don’t know what’s going on! There must be some mistake!”

The hunters haven’t even checked in on the two of you yet, but by the timbre of their conversation outside when you awoke, they’ll get the gist of this one too, and you’ll be damned if this stuck-up man leads to your demise.

“There ain’t no mistake, woman.” Looks like there won’t be any fooling this guy. He must be in the business, you assume. “Tryin’ to play the damsel in distress won’t help you any, so quit your whinin’ and stop pulling at the damn ropes.

“I’m not!” You sniffle. “M’not who they think I am!”

You may as well feel his eyes roll. “Right. What’s your name then?” You give him your usual decoy as he attempts to sit up straighter. “And what’s got an innocent thing like you in this kind of trouble?”

“I don’t know!” you cry. “I was mending some clothes when they burst in my house and knocked me out!” you recite with ease. It wasn’t a total lie, after all.

The man listened to your sob story, wanting to get a read on you, you presume. “Is that right? You were… just sewin’ when they magically came out of the woodworks and took ya?”

The goddamn attitude on this man… “Yes!” You start crying again. “Oh god, this can’t be real!”

You hear your companion let out a heavy sigh. “Alright, cut the dramatics, darlin’,” he grumbles. Twigs snap outside and both your heads whip in the direction of the two hunters’ shadows near the flaps. He lowers his voice. “I know you’re puttin’ on that act and it’s getting’ real old. It’d only work on someone dumb as rocks so-” he’s interrupted as the two bounty hunters waltz in, surely having heard you wailing seconds prior.

You flinch hard and make yourself fall to the side. You’re a pathetic, blubbering mess – the complete opposite of what they’ve surely heard of the outlaw they were chasing. You will make them doubt themselves. Manipulation is your specialty, and men are so simple minded~

“Please! Please-”

The captors look a bit startled by your distress. One of them, the bulky one, kneels down at your side. Men just can’t help themselves, can they? They just have to save the pretty tormented girl. He tries to soothe you by placing a grubby hand on your knee. “Calm down, sweet thing.”

You try to hide your recoil. It’s not like you can scoot backward anyway, since you’re tied to the pessimistic wanted man. “P-Please, will you just tell me what’s going on?” You blink with tear-soaked lashes, being a convincing little housewife.

The hunters share a look, as if silently trying to contemplate the legitimacy of your cries. The bulky one returns his attention to you, seemingly placated. “We ain’t gonna hurtcha unless you give us a reason to, sweetheart. We’re just here to bring you down to the sheriff’s office.”

You hear the other wanted man scoff behind you. Surely, they weren’t actually falling for this?

The taller one hanging back grins cockily. “Gonna get us that nice little bounty on your head,” he adds.

It’s your turn to bite back a scoff. Little? There’s nothing little about a hard-worked two-thousand dollars on your head alone. You’d even been dubbed Bullseye.

For your own sake, your eyes go wide as saucers, as if you’re truly repulsed by the idea of having committed any crimes. “Bounty?! That’s impossible. I’ve never sinned in my life. Please, there must be a mistake-”

The tall one chuckles and you feel flames of anger licking at your insides. “Oh, there ain’t no mistake. You must’ve done some reeeeal bad things. Bounties like that ain’t given out for no reason.”

The bulky man nods to corroborate his friend’s words, but judging by its slowness, he seems a bit more apprehensive. “…You seem too soft to have a bounty of a couple grand on your head.”

Your new wanted companion whistles from behind you, impressed.

“Goddammit, Wilson!” curses the tall one.

There’s the crack you need. You keep pushing, sensing the foundation crumbling between the two. You shake your head feverishly. “I don’t know who you think I am! I’ve told you my name. I’m a housewife. M-My husband’s name is Elijah. Really, I barely ever go out. I don’t know what’s going on here.”

The two idiots glance at each other again, brows raised. Wilson tilts his head. “Roberts, maybe we fucked up. I mean, look at’er! The law has been after the girl for years. The… The posters are old. They’ve been up so long that they’re kinda faded… Maybe her and Bullseye really do just look alike.”

The tall one – Roberts – doesn’t answer right away. You’d venture to guess he’s more trigger-happy than his partner. “I didn’t see no husband inside the house.”

“He’s off on business in the next county at the moment.”

Again, they seem to communicate without speaking aloud. Wilson stands with a groan and nods in my direction with urgent eyes, evidently commanding Roberts. The latter steps forward with a sigh, his arms crossed. “Fine. I’ll bite. If that’s the truth, miss, how long you been married?”

You smile weakly, pretending to recall a memory. “Since my Elijah and I were nineteen.”

“All this time and no children?”

You drop your shoulders and strategically let your smile fade. You’ve been waiting a while to use this one. “No, sir, I been having… issues,” you admit shamefully. And you’re so proud of yourself that you hope even the non-believer tied to you is starting to wonder if he accused you of being a liar a little too quickly.

Both the hunters are taken aback at that. A woman shouldn’t be talking about private matters to strangers. The dumb bulky one breaks the silence first. “I-I’m sorry about that, ma’am…” he mumbles awkwardly.

You nod solemnly and wipe a skillful tear from your cheek with your shoulder. “I begged him not to go- begged him! A-And now I’m tied up-” You gasp and try to put some distance between yourself and the man you’re tied to, but it only yanks at both your binds. “Does that mean I’m tied to a killer?! Oh God!” you cry and squirm violently.

Wilson raises his hands the same way one would calm a horse. “Ma’am, calm down-” In an attempt to calm you down, he grabs a knife from his belt and cuts your wrists’ bindings while Roberts rushes to make sure the other outlaw doesn’t try to pull some stunt. Unlike yourself, he leaves him fully bound and secures him to one of the tent’s support posts.

Now that you aren’t back-to-back with him, you catch a glimpse of his face for the first time. Oh shit. You recognize him immediately – it’s impossible not to, not in your line of work. That’s Arthur Morgan, one of Van Der Linde’s men. One of his most feared men, actually. No doubt he has a pretty bounty on his head as well.

You don’t have time to dwell in your thoughts because that half-witted hunter speaks again. “I won’t untie your ankles, though. Can’t have you runnin’ off on us until we’re sure you ain’t it,” he says with a chuckle.

You want to punch that condescending little smirk right off his face… But you can do even better.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of running.”

“Well, that’s good ‘cau-”

He trips over his words when you snag the knife from his naively relaxed grip and jam it into his neck with all your might. As he topples over, you swiftly grab the revolver from his holster and shoot Roberts a couple of times in the chest before he can even react.

“Goddamn fools,” you mutter as you undo the rope around your ankles, seemingly unfazed by a tied-up Arthur Morgan some feet away from you.

Even writhing on the ground, Wilson disturbs your newfound peace, gargling on his own blood. You roll your eyes and put a bullet between his own. Standing, you stretch your limbs, rubbing where the rough rope had dug into your skin. You retract the bloody knife from the bounty hunter’s neck, giving it a twirl. It was a pretty knife, engraved with some intricate swirls. You earned it.

You finally look up at Arthur. “You were right, I s’pose.”

“Seems that way,” he replies, carefully watching every movement of yours. You’d seen that look in men before. He was trying to gauge if he was going to be the next recipient of your wrath.

You grin and lean back against some crates, enjoying seeing such an infamous man be so unsure. “Now, what to do with you?” you ask rhetorically.

You watch as his eyes go from the dead man at his feet to your calm figure. Evidently, you had managed to impress him. Pride swells in your chest. He nods toward his bound ankles. “Well, are you going to get these off? That would be greatly appreciated,” he inquires dryly, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

You hum, giving the knife a couple more twirls. “I bet, Van Der Linde.”

The outlaw raises a brow, otherwise utterly composed. “So you know who I am… Or at least who I run with.”

“Mhm.” You trace the edge of the bloody blade with your index. “You’re no small feat, Arthur Morgan.” You push off the crates and nod at the corpses on the dirt. “They would’ve lucked out.”

“I’d say the same for you,” he replies, his gaze unrelenting.

The two morons had spoken your alias, but it’s the fact that Morgan recognized it that sticks with you. A sick sense of satisfaction bubbles within you at the knowledge that your name has been spread to one of the country’s most notorious gangs.

“Well ain’t you sweet,” you quip sarcastically.

Arthur looks down at Roberts, mere inches away from him. “Your aim on him could’ve been a bit better, though. Too far right.”

You? Aiming anything other than perfect? You scoff, your eyes narrowing as you search through a sack on the crates for your confiscated guns. “I don’t have to let you free.”

“And I don’t have to be pleasant,” he retorts gruffly, and for a second, you’re reminded of who you’re talking to. The adrenaline from your victorious escape begins to simmer down and you realize that perhaps you shouldn’t be speaking to an accomplished killer this way.

…But you’re one yourself.

You look over your shoulder with a smile. “You’re tied up, hun.”

The man scowls. “Oh really? I hadn’t noticed.”

Amusing, this one. But perhaps you aren’t exactly in the position to have Dutch Van Der Linde and his boys on your tail for taking out their best man. You sling the bag full of your belongings over your shoulder and crouch before him, pushing Roberts out of the way with one foot. “I can’t see why we can’t be amicable, can you?”

One of his brows quirks up. “Depends on your definition of amicable, miss,” he dryly speaks your family name.

“Charming manners.” You tilt your head. “I reckon we ain’t that different, you and I. Two of the most notorious criminals. Everyone knows our names. We were, well-” you gesture to his bound current state. “-both tied up. On the same team, if you will. We live the same lifestyle. I don’t see the point in goin’ off and tattlin’ on each other.”

Arthur lets out a quiet huff. “So you’re suggestin’… What, an alliance?”

“I’m suggestin’ silence. You go off without worryin’ about me sending the law after you, and I do the same.”

“And how do I know I can trust you?” He’s skeptical, and you can’t quite blame him after he’s just witnessed how you swindled those men.

“It’s a two-way street, Mr. Morgan. I’m the same as you, it’d be hypocritical to turn you in. Plus, I don’t quite care to alert the law of my presence by going in to report you.”

You can practically see the gears turning in his head. “Fine. But I’m not forgettin’ this.”

But his mention of an alliance lingers in your head. You hold up a finger. “On second thought, I’ve got a better idea. More fool-proof terms, if you’re hesitant to trust me.”

He rolls his eyes, obviously not enjoying being at your mercy. “And what would those be?”

The corner of your mouth quirks up. “It’d be idiotic for members of the same gang to snitch on each other, wouldn’t it?”

A look of realization washes over his face. “It would,” his voice drops lower, not liking where this is headed.

“Then, I’ll be joining the Van Der Lindes. I’m tired of sleepin’’ with a pistol in my hand.”

His expression shifts, seemingly amused by your conviction. “Oh, are you?” he retorts with a chuckle. “What makes you think they’d even let you in?”

You grin. “You knew exactly who I was when you heard those twits call me Bullseye, that’s what.” You stand up straight. “And you’re going to give me a shining recommendation.”

“Am I, now?”

“Mhm… Or I could throw you on my horse out there and we could have ourselves a nice little ride to some sheriff’s office. I figure Saint-Denis would have the most intense security. You don’t think they’d recognize me if I just rode by and dropped you on the doorstep, do you?” You jeer as you rummage through the tent, looking for anything of value to take.

Despite your threats, a small smirk creeps onto Arthur’s face. He takes a moment to study you, weighing his options.

“Confident, ain’t ya?”

“With reason.”

A beat. You just stare at each other.

“Can you untie me already? We’ve got a lot of ground to cover to get back to camp.”

#i love sassy arthur #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead redemption #mid honor arthur morgan #rdr2 x reader

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eclipseberrycake · 3 months ago

Text

Poly! MoonBerryCake x Reader Pt. 6

AN: I really need to stop this is getting crazy (DW i'll never stop). This has been in the works for a while, and the part number has changed a few times, but I feel this is a good time to release this onto the world. This one will have some warnings so head them if easily triggered please! You are more important than any piece of fanfiction!

-> Part one

-> Part Two

-> Part Three

-> Part Four

-> Part Five

Warnings: Depictions of Gore, Depictions of being turned into a Twisted, Momentary/ Temporary loss of a partner, Grief, Acts of Violence, Ichor being used as blood.

☁ He knew the latest run had returned before the elevator had even docked itself, the groaning of the gears ringing in his ears as he slowly sat up. Blu gave a little mew at being disturbed before curling up where he was laying down, purring contently as she returned to her slumber.

☁ He gave her a few soft pets before standing, walking over to the elevator docking area, watching the door open. You were the first one out, beaming happily as you and Cosmo, who were hand in hand, twirled your way out of the elevator. He was just as happy as you, his smile lighting up his eyes, which shined like a rich chocolate. Seeing the two of you positively beam like the sun made his heart thrum at the prospect of you two looking at him the way you looked at each other.

☁ It was such a silly thing to him, and never something he would've expected should you have asked him about this very scenario before the breakout. The thought alone made him snicker, shaking his head slightly as you used some exaggerated hand motions to explain something that must've happened on the run. Cosmo seemed utterly entranced by the action, his curled tail wagging behind him so quickly the sprinkles seemed to be a blurred streak of color.

☁ It looked like the poor cake roll was gonna explode before he was sweeping you up into his arms and spinning, both of you laughing. It was such an amazing scene to see, only interrupted when he startled at the feeling of arms hooking around his own waist. Looking up, he grinned at the berry watching you two as well, a dopey grin on his own face.

☁ "Must've been a good run." Sprout hummed before pressing a chaste kiss to his temple. "How was the nap?"

☁ Leaning into the embrace, Astro burrowed into the fur lining of his cape, exhaustion still tugging the corners of his foggy brain. "Good. Blueberry slept with me."

☁ Sprout hummed at the information, "I was wondering where she went. Good to know she was with you and not peeing on Finn's clothes again."

☁ If Astro grinned behind the fur of his cloak, the only one that needed to know was Sprout, who was grinning himself. Leaning back onto Sprout, who was warm from being in the kitchen, Astro felt his eyes threaten to close, only staying awake due to the fact that he was standing, and too busy watching the pure energy that you and Cosmo radiated. It was almost tangible, and if the grins on the other toons faces were anything to go by, they could feel it too.

☁ He couldn't imagine why though. If he remembered correctly, when you and Cosmo had snuck off that morning, you two had assured them it was simply a restock run meant to ensure you and Goob were still working together as you should and trying to implement Pebble into your tactics. Or so Astro thinks he remembers that's what it was. Truthfully he barely he remembered you two leaving, too tired to recognize what was happening around him before burrowing into Sprout's side. He felt the berry talking that morning, but didn't hear what was said, so maybe Sprout knew.

☁ Just as he was about to ask, you seemed to notice them, alerting Cosmo, who set you down, ready to take off when you stumbled, dizzy but still laughing. He shot out an apology, helping you stabilize before taking off as you shook yourself out, quickly following.

☁ They knew you were faster than all of them, but the spinning must've done a number on you as Cosmo beat you to them, jumping onto Astro the second he was close enough. They went down in a heap, making him gasp out at the feeling of an entire body on his ribs, even if he grinned nonetheless accepting the kisses bestowed upon him. Cosmo's tail was wagging wildly behind him, ruffling his cloak as it did, making Astro chuckle before catching Cosmo's cheeks and pressing a proper kiss to the cake roll's lips.

☁ Whatever high he had been riding seemed to finally calm itself a bit as he soothed himself, melting into the kiss before seperating, even if he laughed the second he could. "We missed you."

☁ "We could tell." Astro grins, feeling Cosmo's forehead lean on his own. Using two of his arms, he secures the cake roll to his chest while the other two help him sit up, his eyes darting to where Sprout had managed to catch you and stay upright. Your legs were wrapped around his waist as you pressed kiss after kiss to his cheeks, forehead, chin, anywhere; his own hands holding your thighs with a dazed look across his love stricken face.

☁ Astro couldn't help but laugh at the scene, Cosmo chuckling in front of him before Sprout was shaking his head and returning the affection tenfold with a solid kiss to your own lips.

☁ When you separated, laughing with flushed cheeks, you made him put you down with a parting peck before turning to Cosmo. Something mischievous sparked in your eyes as Cosmo also stood and before he knew it, he was pinned to the floor once more.

☁ It was a welcome feeling as he was much more prepared this time, catching you in a much more firm hold than he had on Cosmo as you gave him the same affection you had given Sprout.

☁ You and Cosmo were so full of affection and life, it was truly some sort of miracle you had even given him a chance. He counted his lucky stars every time one of you, any of you, had given him a hug, kiss or even just held his hand. It was like the heavens had smiled upon him when making you three and he would be damned before giving any of you up.

☁ Catching your cheeks, he held you for a second, watching your giggles before pressing a firm kiss to your lips in the same manner he did to Cosmo, even if you ended up laughing through it. When he pulled away, you were still just as smiley and as exuberant as you had been since the day he laid eyes on you.

☁ "What's got you two so giddy?" Sprout had finally asked, Cosmo nuzzling into his scarf. "Thought this was a restock run."

☁ "It was!" You answer to the best of your abilities, Astro removing his hands so you could speak properly. That doesn't deter you though, as you positively beam. "But then we ran into Shelly!"

☁ "You what-" Both Astro and Sprout seemed shocked that seeing a main, especially Shelly who left your brain foggy and confused, left you in such high spirits. Sprout immediately went about checking Cosmo for any injuries but just as Astro went to return the favor you shook him off.

☁ "No, no, we're okay I promise, but we did it!" It was your turn to hold his cheeks, making him look at you as you're perfect smile lit up your face, nothing but pure adoration in your eyes as you gazed upon him. "We got her research."

☁ Astro, truthfully, didn't know how to feel. Back before this entire thing had gone down, him and Shelly were close friends. They went to each other for practically everything. He was the first person she told when she admitted she liked girls too. She was who he first came out to admitted that he liked any gender.

☁ To hear that they could bring her back? His best friend outside of you three?

☁ His eyes burned as all four of his arms wrapped around you, squeezing you to his chest as you laughed, returning the action and letting him hide in your chest. He never thought he could love any harder than he loved not ten minutes ago, but sitting here, he knew that wasn't the case. You and Cosmo and Sprout always managed to prove him wrong. He wasn't even sure how that was possible anymore.

☁ But as he held you, heart so full of pure adoration, he realized he didn't care. Everything leading up to this point was worth it. Every agonizing step as a twisted, eyes burning by the ichor leaking out of them in the form of mocking tears, with his hands so cold and stained with ichor he couldn't tell which was which, was worth it. Even if it was just for this one moment alone.

☁ Looking up at Sprout and Cosmo, who were watching him with those same adoring smiles on their faces, he hoped that messaged was purveyed to them in the same way he hoped it was to you.

☁ Getting ready for that run was a challenge all on it's own. With the added effects of confusion that left the extractors slower and dazed the distractors, messing with their sense of direction, it was imperative that they were prepared before even daring to go on a retrieval mission. Hordes of smaller, five floor runs were orchestrated with those who had no want or need to go on the retrieval run to gather supplies while those who were going on the run planned for the worst with fail safes above all else.

☁ It would be himself, Sprout, Cosmo and you, absolutely guaranteed, but from there it got dicey. Goob was powerful and you worked well with him, but Pebble was much faster and good in case his twisted form showed up. Plus, they needed at least two fast extractors, since both Astro and Sprout carried the Veemote.

☁ In the end, it was decided more distractors was better than the alternative and Goob and Pebble were both brought on, along with Glisten and Vee. With two healers, three distractors, two extractors and a support, it seemed like a fine run.

☁ Piling into the elevator, even the usual tension that normally was there during a retrieval run seemed lightened as light chatter rung out among them. You and Goob were making sure Pebble's trinkets were attached securely, you're own dangling by your waist, while Sprout was chatting with Vee about the room layouts and how best to split her and Glisten. So far the plan was that himself, Sprout, Vee and Glisten each take a machine for the time being while climbing up to the higher floors with you, Goob and Pebble alternating distracting on a schedule you had pre-planned based on likely hood of certain twisteds appearing. While it was subject to change, of course, it was comforting to know when you were expected to be in the line of fire.

☁ Cosmo himself was tasked with staying nearby the distractor just in case, his high stealth making him a valuable asset in terms of healing without any difficulties. The other distractors would be tasked with searching the floors for anything useful, and with any luck on their side, this would be an easy retrieval. Or as easy as one could be.

☁ Walking over, Astro rounded around Cosmo's back so he could place his chin on the cake roll's shoulder, following his line of sight to where you were trying to keep Pebble still enough you could fix his trinkets on his collar. "Are you alright?"

☁ Cosmo was silent for a second, fists clenching by his side as he held a deep breath for a moment. "I-...I have a weird feeling about this run." He admitted. "But I don't know what to do about it. The last time I felt about this was...Pebble's retrieval."

☁ Swallowing, Astro tried not to think about Pebble's retrieval if he could help it. You had gotten so hurt during that, almost losing the bit of sanity necessary to refrain from becoming a twisted all because they weren't quick enough. It made his chest ache thinking about it, and he understood why the worry made Cosmo as anxious as he seemed.

☁ "We'll be there. The entire time." Astro swears, urging the universe to head the warning he's promising. He wouldn't let anything tear you apart. He wouldn't. He'd give himself and his own humanity up before your own. Seeing you that night on the balcony and hearing how you feared yourself was never something he wanted you to experience again. If he could take you're hurt from that time, he'd do it in a heartbeat. He'd do it for you, Cosmo and Sprout without a second thought. "We have Pebble now anyway, so we have someone who can successfully distract...that twisted."

☁ This seems to ease Cosmo, even if not entirely as the first floor is revealed and you're taking off, blowing kisses their way as you run backwards before turning, pinpointing the twisteds Vee highlighted.

☁ And like that, floor by floor is completed quickly with little issue. Medkits are picked up so both Sprout and Cosmo are stocked with plenty, while the healers remain mindful of the supplies they pick up. Even Astro, Glisten and Vee have some form of heal on them in case of emergencies. It was going as a normal run would, even if the feeling in his gut heavily disagreed.

☁ Astro was never a man of myths, despite being a celestial, but he could feel the bad omen in the air, if only for the fact that the amount of heals given was too many to be comfortable. It felt like someone was preparing them for something, which made his skin prickle with goose bumps.

☁ Things would be okay. They'd have to be. He doesn't know what he would do if something happened to one of you.

☁ The only tell that something is not as it should be is on the sixteenth floor. The door opens and immediately they know Shelly is there. There's a thin film of fog that crosses over his brain, blurring the objects in his vision just enough it takes an extra heartbeat to recognize who's who. The effect it has on the disctractors seems stronger as Pebble whimpers, shaking his head while both you and Goob groan at the feeling. There are heavy, leafy steps as well and from the corner of his eye, Astro can see Sprout frown. But it's nothing you haven't handled before. No, it truly only gets worse from there, as Vee taps her mic and a silhouette he is all too familiar with is seen tramping down the hallway, all four arms outreached and looking for something. Just the sight of it churns his gut, yet you and the other distractors seem unfazed.

☁ You're quick to bark out some directions, taking Sprout's twisted for yourself as you're used to his vines. You direct Pebble to take Astro's twisted as the tired effect he forces upon those around him has virtually no effect since Pebble is fast enough he doesn't need to run, leaving Goob with Shelly. He's given the antidote and instructed that he should wait till panic, but if he has the opportunity, take it.

☁ Turning, you look at the rest of the group, giving each of them a stern look over as you quickly strategize before nodding. "I have a med-kit, so the healers can go with Goob and Pebble-" Both healers open their mouth to immediately disagree, but you hold up a hand. "I'll stick close enough one of you can get to me at all times. Cosmo, I'd go with Pebble since your stealth will make healing him easy, and Sprout I'd go with Goob in case of emergencies. Vee, Glisten and Astro, I trust you'll find those machines quickly. If each of you finish two we'll be done before you know it." You grin, as optimistic as ever.

☁ You don't give anyone the chance to deny what you've said before taking off, quickly finding Sprout and leading the twisted on a wild chase. Pebble barks before doing the same with Goob, the two splitting up soon after with Sprout and Cosmo reluctantly following. Looking to the other two, Astro frowns, seeing them both reflecting the same emotion he's feeling. Maybe you had the same gut feeling too, but just didn't show it. It's hard to say.

☁ Still, they don't waste any time and quickly go about finish the machines they were given. Astro's already standing outside the elevator with Glisten when the elevator's open, the mirror stepping inside as he waits for the others just in case. Pebble and Cosmo are first, sliding into the elevator with heavy breaths as the countdown continues.

☁ Next is surprisingly Goob and Sprout, the latter carrying the limp, ichor riddled body of Shelly. Even from where he stands, he can feel Sprout's magic attempt to work, but Shelly's too exhausted for it to take any real effect.

☁ Swallowing, Astro makes eye contact with Sprout, who nods, before letting his own magic thrum, praying that you and Vee would be okay. You had to be.

☁ There was no way you wouldn't.

☁ Yet, as the countdown continues, he begins to worry. It's evident with the way the others toe the boundary of the elevator they do too. Even Pebble is whining, almost looking ready to dart back out when five seconds hit. You and Vee come skidding around a corner, the former looking at the end of her circuit's power as you escort her to the elevator.

☁ Four seconds hit and the other two Twisted are turning the same corner.

☁ Three Seconds and Astro swears he knows exactly what you're thinking the second the thought hits. Registering his position crouched by Sprout and Shelly, he realizes he's too far to make any real difference.

☁ Two seconds and you falter by just a step, ensuring you're behind Vee, glancing behind you to make sure the twisted's are focused on you.

☁ One second and it seems like slow motion drags out what may possibly be the worst moment of his life. Your hands pull back before rushing towards Vee's back, making her stumble forward into Goob's outstretched hands. Cosmo and Sprout immediately clue into what just happened, eyes going wide as Astro jumps to his feet. Goob's arms snap back just as the elevator gears begin to turn and you take a sharp turn to avoid running into the metal wall. He's sees the puddle of ichor spawn underneath of you, an inky vein shooting up and into your side. You shout out, ichor spitting out of your mouth as the twisted version of himself catches up at last, his clawed fingers digging into your pallid flesh.

☁ The elevator shuts just as the first sounds of flesh tearing and Ichor being spilt rings out along with your pained screams.

☁ Sprout runs into the wall of the elevator, fruitlessly banging on it helplessly as salty tears run down his spotted cheeks, begging, pleading for it to be himself. How he could save you, take the pain away. He screams for something, anything to change or give him the chance to make it different, but it's a plea that falls on a the ears of a deaf, vengeful entity.

☁ Cosmo is crying as well, holding his hands to his mouth as he collapses to his knees, the thunk echoing in the elevator as it's quickly redirected to the lobby. His shoulders begin to hiccup as he falls forward one of his hands falling to catch himself as his breaths begin in rushed, panicked motions, choking him before they're even fulling sucked in.

☁ Astro himself can't even begin to fathom what happened. The reality of it all seems just out of his grasp as the confusion from the remnants of Twisted Shelly's embrace fades away. It settles in the gapes of his psyche comfortably. the look on your face as you made the very decision that took you away from and sealed yourself for what was a painful, tragic turning.

☁ You had faced what was your greatest fear in order to save Vee. Vee, who was still in shock on the ground in front of him, looking too terrified to truly understand what had happened. Vee, who was Sprout's best friend and you knew that. All on a run to save his own best friend, who was groaning in Glisten's hold.

☁ A cold numbness gripped his chest as his eyes began to burn, his fists clenching and unclenching as he truly has no idea where to go from here. Where is there to go truly? He is no longer a complete being without each part of your group. He had given each of you such a large part of his mind, body and soul and to have one of them yanked away right in front of him left feeling hollow.

☁ It was an odd feeling, watching Sprout and Cosmo go through the motions of grief while feeling themself. He can tell Sprout is livid. Raging beyond normal anger as he spits heartbroken curses at the wall, ranting about how you had promised to be more careful and how it wasn't fucking fair. How could you leave them like this?!

☁ Cosmo is curled into a tight ball, hyperventilating as Goob rubs his back, screaming into the space between his chest, knees and the floor. His fingers are curled so tightly that the flesh of his knuckles look strained and he can tell in the strain of his voice that his throat is aching from the sheer ferocity of the cries alone.

☁ For himself? Astro finds himself in an odd dance of denial of the very event he just saw happen and bargaining for someone, anyone, to bring you back. He'd offer himself in a heartbeat. He'd offer all the tapes or ichor he could get his hands on. He'd sell his soured, moon-laden lonely soul if it meant you're sunny, bright self rain it's light on them forever more. The words you had told him the night on the balcony kept ringing in his ears, about how terrified you were of yourself. How you'd never wish it on anyone, let alone them.

☁ He never dreamed, no, he wasn't allowed that pleasure as the keeper of dreams himself, but this was very much what he imagined a nightmare to feel like. He wanted to wake up. He needed to wake up and see you there, sleeping in between him and Sprout as you always did, Blu snuggled against your chest. He needed to see the slow rise and fall of your chest. He needed to see you.

☁ The elevator opened and the others rushed to greet them only to stop at the sight of one less familiar face, gasps ringing out around them. Shelly was taken away to the med-bay by someone, he couldn't tell.

☁ He didn't even know how he got the wherewithal to move, but he found himself doing so, gently waving off Goob before collapsing next to Cosmo and pulling the cake roll to his chest. He wrapped his cloak around the sobbing man, mindlessly rubbing up and down his back with a hand while another held Cosmo's face to his shoulder, if only to save him the shame from everyone watching them.

☁ His glazed eyes scanned the area before them as well, landing on Sprout who seemed to run out of steam momentarily, swallowing tightly as his fists clenched. Astro opened his mouth, a broken croak of the berry's name leaving his lips. It did the trick as Sprout turned, blinking at the them before more tears ran down his face and he was stumbling over to them, wrapping himself around them as he began to let out heavy, wrenching sobs.

☁ Astro bowed his head to rest against Cosmo's, his own tears dripping down his cheeks. He shouldn't have used his power like that. He could've saved you. He had the power and opportunity to do so, but couldn't. If you had just gotten to the elevator, they could've saved you no matter what. But you hadn't because Vee didn't have the Stamina to get there without your intervention.

☁ That night was the hardest night he's ever had. He wasn't sure how they made it out of the elevator, but they had. Sprout had nearly gone to his own room, but that idea was quickly dashed by Astro's hand on his wrist, stopping him. It wasn't what you would've wanted.

☁ So Sprout remained with them, the night time routine quickly being cut down to only the most basic motion of getting into bed. As hard as that was, the worst was when Blu hopped up, as oblivious as ever, mewing for you. When she didn't immediately spot you, she slowly stepped further up to where you normally slept, bowing her head as if to take a closer look to where you could be. When she couldn't find you, she mewled again, sounding much more desperate than the first attempt.

☁ Cosmo is quick to bring her into his chest, curling around her as if she were a last chain to reality. To you. He's the first to speak between the three of them besides angry curses or desperate pleas. "We'll get them back." He swears, sounding more resolute than either Astro or Sprout have every heard him. "The same way they got us back."

☁ Neither of the other two have to say anything for Cosmo to know they're promising alongside him.

☁ The quest for your twisted form's research is begun the next morning, the other toons adamantly refusing to let them go until the fateful recovery mission. They were too emotional and would lose themselves should they be allowed to go now.

☁ It's a painful, pitiful thing even if they understand deep down. Moreso, it's a grueling and slow process. Every floor you're on is the last the run does, immediately retreating after coming into contact with your twisted, beaten and bruised. None of them tell them what you look like, but it's a small mercy. They don't talk about what you did or what happened, they simply pass over the research and continue on to med-bay.

☁ It takes just over 4 days for the research to finish with the antidote provided and by that point, Astro feels he's going to burst if he's benched from this mission one more time. He's moved from the numb feeling of loss, moving to anger at the world for daring to do this to you. To pure hatred at Dandy and the ichor now coursing through your veins. He hates it. He needs to fix it.

☁ So he will.

☁ Sprout is in much the same boat as he is while Cosmo seems more determined then ever. He's silent but stoic, glowering at anyone who even looks like they're thinking about telling him to stay back. If it weren't for the circumstance, Astro would be proud of the cake roll for finding his backbone, but as it stands they have bigger problems.

☁ They know their roles, but at this point, it's evident even the most thoughtful of plans can go to hell in a handbasket.

☁ Floor by floor, they trek through, watching Poppy and Boxten, the two most familiar with your twisted form, for any sign or recognition of you being there. By floor eleven, they seem to get it, faces immediately tightening. With a glance at each other, Poppy is quick to turn to them, the ever optimistic girl incredibly stern as she spoke. "There's one incredibly vital part you need to know. Stay out of view as much as possible. Even if you don't think they spotted you, remain there until you're sure. They'll charge you if they find you. From there you have three seconds to build enough of a gap between yourself and them to hide. Do not attempt to distract. They're too fast. They will turn you if you give them the chance, so don't."

☁ The warning left something sour churning in Astro's gut as the doors opened and they all immediately darted behind the boxes in front of the elevator. Slowed, sluggish steps echoes behind them and a risky reach for a capsule beside them revealed the other toon to be Rodger, meaning that was you. You were there, so close. Within arms reach! They just had to get to you.

☁ Which was the hardest part of it all, really. You were fast, strong and precise. A dangerous combination. There was a moment of silence before Poppy was slowly moving, as if trying to get a grasp on the situation before she was immediately darting back, hands clapping against her mouth.

☁ The steps stopped.

☁ Reaching over, Astro grabbed the first person's hands he could find, squeezing them tightly as he urged them to continue. Sprout seemed to be his unfortunate victim, even as he squeezed back. The steps did continue, but they were quick, too quick and before they knew it, the boxes behind them were crushed as you crashed into them, roars of agony leaving you as they scattered. The three of them hid in a side room as you shook off, whipping around for any sight of limb or tail of any of them. When you found nothing, you snarled, giving them a good look at your twisted form. Your teeth are beyond sharp as you snap on air, sheening with drool and stained with ichor. There's a large, gaping wound in your side that drops the same black ooze, trailing behind you as you limp along the way. Worst of all were your eyes. Ones that used to shine like diamonds in their own right, laced with nothing but pure love and the edges of your soul were now stained red as you yanked at your fuzz in frustration.

☁ There were even large claws on your fingers, which clawed at your face as you did so, making you more frustrated as you howled out some form of anguished noise. Some form of movement caught your eye after this and you were off once more.

☁ Astro was forced back into hiding as his chest heaved. You were there. And all he could think was that you were correct to be scared. How scared you must've been now. Through all the pain and anger you must've been feeling as a twisted, the fear for the you that was left must've been astronomical.

☁ It makes his eyes burn as he shuts them tightly, urging his breath to remain steady. Looking over at Sprout and Cosmo, he swallows tightly. "I'll go first. Stay here unless absolutely necessary. Especially you Sprout-"

☁ "You can't ask that of me!" Sprout is quick to snap, even if his eyes look frantic. "That's not fair. To me or to them. You can't just expect me to sit here and-and- to what?! Wait?!" He cries out only to immediately hush himself at the sound of your cries, the ding of a machine going off.

☁ "I'm not asking you to wait." Astro is quick to reassure. He can't lose them and you. He can't. He'd break. He'd willingly turn himself back over to the twisted side if it meant being with you all once more. But he knew that's not what you would want. "I have the highest stealth. Even if they do spot me, I have the best chance of getting away."

☁ "By your same logic, I have the highest stamina." Sprout shoots back bitterly, crossing his arms. "For someone's who's power regenerates stamina, it doesn't work on you. You'd be hooped."

☁ "Coming from the man who can't heal himself?" Astro can't help himself, snarling back angrily. Sprout's mouth opens to retaliate before Cosmo is pushing them apart, shooting a hard look at both of them.

☁ "Knock it off." He sneers, voice low and quiet as his eyes dart out the room. The steps are closer than they were before, but slowed and unhurried. After quickly checking to make sure you're out of hearing range, Cosmo shoots them both a hard look, as if unable to believe what's in front of them. It makes both mains wilt in shame admittedly. "It doesn't matter who does what. What matters is getting them back." The cake roll continues, swallowing tightly as his eyes water. "They did it for every single one of us, without fail. It didn't matter how hurt, how scared or how tired they were. They did it. Over and over and over again. This whole thing even happened because they were doing it again." There's another ding of a machine.

☁ "Our job here isn't to do the machines. Our job, above all else, is to get them back." Cosmo takes a breath. "And then kick their ass for daring to do something like that."

☁ The third machine rings, but your cry of attack rings with it, your steps thundering away from their hiding place. That's their cue as Sprout pulls out the antidote provided to him by Goob, clenching it tightly. Between the three of them, it would be their job to somehow pin you down long enough and bring you back.

☁ The fourth machine dings and panic begins with the blaring of red lights as elevator opens. The others, save for Boxten, are quick to return and they're hoping if nothing else the noise brings you their way.

☁ But when Boxten appears, they're faced with yet another problem. He's being chased by a twisted clone of Flutter, who has her eyes locked in on their prey. A number of curses are dropped as Sprout shoves the antidote into Astro's hand and takes off. Flutter immediately turns her attention to him, allowing Boxten to find safe recluse in the elevator. In that moment however, you turn the corner and you're eyes immediately lock onto Sprout.

☁ You fall to all fours, darting forward with a snarl on your features. Sprout lets out a yelp at the sight, making a harsh U-turn only for Flutter to dig her clawed feet into his arm. It makes him yelp as he pulls away, but you don't falter. Cosmo and Astro both step forward with a yell, but you're jumping before they can stop you.

☁ It's not Sprout you pounce on though.

☁ No, you go right past Sprout and tackle Flutter in a messy clash of claws and snarls. You throw the Twisted further away from them with another loud growl, crouching in front of them, as if daring Flutter to get closer.

☁ She doesn't, taking the loss for what it was and flying away.

☁ You don't even notice Astro's by your side until he's jabbing the needle into your neck the same way he's seen you do it, making you cry out as you're body withers beneath him. The wound on your side gives a final gush of ichor as you do, pulsating with the oily liquid as your body contorts. Your voice, the one that's spent endless hours reading out the worlds from your stories to him, or listing instructions to Cosmo, or even picking fun, meaningless arguments with Sprout, is now entwined with the gravelly groan of your Twisted's voice, crying out for relief of some kind.

☁ It shred's whatever remnants remain of Astro's patience as he quickly scoops you against his chest, turning to elevator. Cosmo's already healed Sprout, who's leaning against the cake roll for support, both eagerly awaiting him in the elevator.

☁ The metal wall slams shut behind them and Astro quickly kneels, making sure you're body is supported as he takes a breath of relief for what felt like the first time in the last few miserable days.

☁ You're there. You're with them and breathing, even if it's laboured and strained, you're ichor stained hands grasping at your side.

☁ Sprout is right there, first aid kid in hand with a bandage already wrapped around his arm where Flutter had gotten. His hand is shaky as it raises, gently resting on your head as his eyes shine in a way Astro knows he'll deny later.

☁ Cosmo is already crying, holding one of your hands tightly despite the fact that Astro's sure you're not even aware of what's going on.

☁ He himself can feel himself ease at last, even if he knows the night will be hard on every one of you. As he holds you close and you're weak, albeit just as sunny and exuberant smile shines once more, he knows it'll already all be worth it.

#astro dandys world #astro novalite #astro x reader #cosmo doesn't have a last name #cosmo x reader #dandy's world astro novalite x reader #dandy's world cosmo #dandy's world cosmo x reader #dandy's world x reader #dandys world sprout #dandys world #sprout seedly x reader #sprout seedly #sprout x reader #moonberrycake x reader #moonberrycake

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sleepyangelkami · 1 year ago

Text

MAKE IT BETTER e.williams

☆ WORD COUNT - 2.7K

ELLIE WILLIAMS X FEM!READER

☆ SUMMARY - patrol gone wrong, bumping into the wrong people and landing yourself in a situation where you can do nothing but cry and hope that your girlfriend and saviour can make everything better. her empty promises remain unsure on whether she can truly fix it or not.

☆ WARNINGS - guns, violence, blood, gunshot wound, angst, crying, swearing, gore, use of pet names, tinsey mention of smut (blink n it's gone), use of 'good girl' but not in a sexual way, intended lower case, happy ending guys dw!! nothing I write is ever proofread 🩷

your pants were heavy, blood gushing between your finger tips as your breaths heaved and your eyes blinked.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

your girlfriend was nowhere to be seen. weird, she was with you possibly five minutes ago. you had gotten separated when you needed her the most, as soon as she left your line of view, everything turned to shit. your wound bled at an alarming pace, blood oozing out between your fingers which desperately hung to your side in attempts to soothe it.

"where are you?" came the voice of a man, the man in which that had impaled your stomach with his knife already. there was no way you could escape him. he was too fast, too slick, too sly. "you can hide all you want but that wound is gonna slow you down." his voice sounded almost playful, as if he were having fun. perhaps he was, perhaps this was his idea of a good time. "i'm gonna find you eventually..." you could hear his footsteps walking around. "that's okay, i like a good chase."

the thought of him winning, grabbing a hold of you and doing whatever it was he was going to do, your stomach churned. you felt dizzy, partially at the thought, partially due to the blood around your stomach.

how did you even end up here?

"please, els." you were begging now, eyes big and glossy. how could ellie refuse? if there was one thing ellie could call a 'weakness' though she refused she had any, it was you.

she sighed, rolling her eyes. "sweetheart, why do you wanna come on patrol with me?" patrol could mean many things. it could mean going to each checkpoint and ticking off the boxes that there was no suspicious activity while holding hands and skipping. it could mean fighting a bunch of clickers while you yelled and stumbled about. ellie particularly hated taking down zombies when you were around. you were bashful, clumsy. sure, she loved you more than anything in the world but that was just it. she loved you so she didn't take her eyes off you, making sure you were safe rather than taking down the stalker running at her. sometimes, patrol meant being bent over one of the tables in the station, taking her strap like the good girl you were. patrols were never the same.

whatever would come of this patrol, you didn't care for there was only one thing on your mind. "wanna spend time with you." snuggling up against her.

as the air grew colder, you grew needier. there was nothing you loved more than being able to spend time with your lover especially in the cold winters of jackson. whether that was on patrol or snuggled together in your bed, you just wanted her.

her lips had pressed a chaste kiss to the crown of your head, smiling into your hair. "you're cute." you were naive, you knew it but you had ellie williams wrapped around your little finger. and she'd never know.

you stuck your head out from her chest, big grin dancing on your lips. "so can i go?" excitement bubbling in your chest. you hated it when ellie left you alone to go on patrol. more often than not you'd spend your time cooped up in the house, alone. ellie had begged dina and jesse to come get you multiple times, bring you outside for some fresh air or simply join you in the company of your home. but it didn't matter if jesus himself walked into your living room. as long as your girlfriend was away at patrol, you were a pouting mess. which is why you often opted for being alone. you would hate to think that you were making dina and jesse sad.

she rolled her eyes, lips turning up at their corners. "I guess, you can." and she heard that squeal that erupted from you, giggling as you jumped up and down. she could only roll her eyes again, though her smile was growing wider. she loved the days when you smiled, she hated the days when you cried. "c'mon, baby, we gotta go find your scarf." the white one in which has been lost for months now.

"you're not gonna find it." you shook your head as she searched the room, you had seated yourself up on the desk, legs dangling as your tongue danced across the lollipop between your fingers. when ellie said 'we have to find' she really means 'i' for she wouldn't dare let you lift a finger. if she had it her way, she'd be the one holding the lollipop to your mouth.

"yeah?" sticking her head out from the box she had been searching. her hair was sticking up in all directions. she left for patrol early in the morning, there was no point looking then. "why not?"

you shrugged your shoulders, tongue swirling around to taste the strawberry. " 's not gonna be there, been lookin' for ages." when you 'looked' for things, you barely skimmed, standing up and eyes bouncing off every wall in the room. you'd have given up in seconds.

there was a smirk dancing on her lips as her feet moved her to where you sat on the desk. her fingers reached up, taking the lollipop from your hold. "maybe you haven't been looking hard enough, angel." her tongue fell onto the strawberry sweet, swirling around. you stared, hypnotised. there was something about the way she carried herself, that small, almost hidden smirk and the way she spoke. it made your stomach do cartwheels. but as you watched her tongue swirl around the lollipop that was only in between your lips a second ago, you found your thighs clenching together. how was it that she was the only one who made you feel this way? when she passed it back to you, your eyes were still strained on her lips and the little freckles above it, your stomach swooned and your head suddenly felt rather ditzy. you couldn't pull your eyes away from her lips. until, that was, she pulled out the scarf from behind her back. "found it." she spoke, before her lips met your own.

the lollipop wasn't the only thing you sucked that night (i'm so sorry)

you heaved out breaths, unsure of what to do. your brows were knit together in worry. "come on, angel, make this easy for me, won't you?" you squeezed your eyes shut closed. you wanted to be home by the fire with ellie, you wanted to be away from this man that made your hands shake and your stomach bleed.

you were sat behind a flipped over car, hands practically vibrating from how much they were shaking. where was ellie? you had lost sight of her ages ago, right before a knife had been plunged into your stomach. you didn't scream then, you wondered if she even knew you had been stabbed.

the man knew you were here, he hadn't seen ellie yet. you hadn't seen him at first, thinking the checkpoint was clear. it wasn't until your girlfriend grasped the edge of your scarf, bringing you down to crouch behind a wall with her that you realised you were not alone. when a bottle knocked over, he realised he wasn't alone either.

you were supposed to stay put, wait until ellie snuck up and attacked him before finding her. but you got worried, your stomach churned and your lip had been bitten raw. it had been too long since you'd seen her and you were beginning to get worried. you made the stupid choice of leaving your hiding space to go find her. now, you were sat with your hands holding the wound that you knew was your own fault.

"come out and i'll go easy." he was going to kill you, if the wound in your stomach didn't. your breaths began to get even more laboured. you didn't want to die. you still had so much you wanted to do. you couldn't die, not now, not because of him. the air grew silent, his foot steps stopped. somehow, it seemed even more scary when you couldn't tell where he was. you held one bloody hand over your mouth, covering it so he couldn't hear you breathe. the air was thick and your head turned, barely peaking over the edge of the car. you turned back, a face right next to you. "found you."

a scream fell from your lips, a blood curdling scream as you snatched your hand away.

you tried to run, thrashing against him as you made a swift exit. he grasped your wrist and despite the knife in your stomach, you kicked your leg upwards, hitting him right in the balls (dina had taught you well) it stumped him for a second and you barely managed to move away.

he let you think you could be free, he didn't allow the thought to last too long though. his hand reached out and grasped a hold of your leg, sending you flying to the ground.

you fell, knife piercing your stomach further. it hadn't been too deep earlier, but now? you were sure you were already dead. you didn't scream but your mouth was open, breaths falling irregularly. you wouldn't have been able to turn around until he flipped you over, he'd climbed on top of you.

he held another knife, pressing it against your tear stained cheek as he grinned. "I really did a number on you, didn't I angel?" his fingers danced on the top of the knife in your stomach. you almost wished he'd stick it in further and simply put you out of your misery. "how about i end this and just―"

it had ended, alright.

you watched as an arrow pierced straight through his scull, bloody edge sitting right between your eyes, not grazing your skin. his own mouth fell open, as yours had only he had been unlucky enough to not be able to close it. his eyes rolled back to the back of his head and his body slid off of yours.

crying, you managed to sit yourself up, back against the mossy wall, the knife was plunged in deep, your hands covered in blood, as was your face. "angel?" her voice was sweet and concerned, nothing alike his cold, teasing one. "shit, shit!"

"ellie?" you practically babbled, hands holding the knife. "hurts."

"i know, i know." despite her rushed tone, she still sounded so comforting. "you're gonna be okay, i'm right here, baby." and you almost believed her until you took notice of just how bloody your hands were. it was a deep red, coating every inch of them, you stared at them, unable to move. "can i have this?" she was already unwrapping the white scarf from across your neck. "thank you, sweetheart, you're doing so good." her words would have made your heart swell if it weren't for the fact that your eyes could barely stay open. "I have to take it out, okay?"

your eyes suddenly went wide, as if they hadn't been sleepy at all. you shook your head, tears falling rapidly. "els, no." a whimper falling from your lips. "don't wanna, please." you would have begged her not to. but you knew it wasn't fair. she was trying to help you, she had to help you but you didn't want her to rip the knife from your stomach.

"i know, baby but i have to." she moved you so that you fell limp against her shoulder. the knife twisted in your stomach. "hold my hand, there you go." your hand was in her own, holding it hard. "you can squeeze as hard as you want, okay? ready? three, two―" you cried into her shoulder, holding her hand so hard it might have fallen off if it weren't for the fact that she was holding on just as hard. "good girl, good girl, you did so well, see? it's done, it's over."

she used the scarf to tie around your waist, tightening it so she could keep the pressure. you watched as the red blood soaked the white fabric. " 'm gonna die, aren't i?" babbling as you cried into her shoulder, you couldn't pull your eyes from the blood that left your stomach. though, the pain had dulled and your eyes were heavy. "don' wanna die."

"hey, hey, look at me." your face sat between her palms as she looked into your eyes, comfort leaking into your heart as soon as she did so. "you're not gonna die, alright? you're gonna be fine, els' gonna make it all better, won't she?" speaking about herself in third person as if she wasn't right there.

you nodded, salty tears falling down your cheeks. "you're gonna make it better." you nodded to yourself, eyes opening and closing heavily.

"yeah, yeah i'm gonna make it all better. stay awake, baby, come on, open those pretty eyes f'me." but as much as she willed you to, your eyes couldn't stop fluttering open and closed, heavily blinking at her. "you're gonna be just fine, hold on, baby."

you didn't register when she hauled you onto shimmer, turning you so that your body was limp against her front, head leaning against her chest. you didn't register much actually. the pain dulled and the girl continued to whisper sweet nothings into your ear. but you couldn't hear now, too caught up in the ringing and how bright the sky seemed to be. your eyes were scrunched shut, head in her chest as you wished and prayed on every star that you'd wake up inside your shared home in jackson, eyes opening to reveal you sleepily smiling on ellie's chest.

you could pray all you want, there was no god coming to save you only ellie williams.

the sound of yelling made you open your eyes against the harsh light. you could make out the muffled yelling of the paramedics taking you away, yelling for certain materials. your eyes were strained on ellie who was being held back by one of the male nurses, James, you were sure his name was. you knew him because he and ellie hated one another. you remembered ellie telling you he was jackson's biggest dickhead and that she'd love to give him a 'knuckle sandwitch' which made you laugh in the moment but right now, nothing could make you laugh. your eyes never left her, though, even after she found her first swinging at the man and suddenly joel was there, holding her back while everyone crowded around the commotion.

when you woke, you were, unfortunately, not in the comfort of you and ellie's home. but you must say, it was much better than the place you had been sitting before, all mucky and bloody.

you blinked, eyes adjusting to the light. "hi, baby." ellie's soft voice as you blinked at her, attempting to get up. "nuh-uh, rest." she pushed your shoulders down softly.

"where am i?" you mumbled softly. you knew where you were but the dosage of your painkillers was so high that you could barely recognise the colour of the bedsheets. and yet, you could see her so clearly, your angel, your saviour, your knight in shining armour.

"med shaft." she spoke, hand holding yours as her thumb brushed against your knuckles.

your eyes glanced down to her hand that was covered with a white bandage. "you hit him." you murmured softly. "the nurse."

"he wouldn't let me see you." she spoke, as if she were defending her own actions. which, she sort of was. "had to make sure my angel was okay, didn't i?"

"you made it better." just like she said she would. ellie didn't lie to you, she wouldn't.

"yeah, i did." she seemed proud of herself. she should be. she saved your life. and if you weren't so loopy right now you would have given her a whole speech and the cuddles of a lifetime.

"thank you." was all you could muster, for now.

"of course, sweetheart." she just wished she could have done more. you shouldn't be here in a hospital bed right now, she should have never left you in the first place, guilt consumed her but she shook it off with a small smile. "we're gonna have to get you a new scarf though." cringing slightly.

"no point." sloppy grin on your face. "jus' gonna loose it again anyway."

she leaned down, pressing a short kiss to your lips. "then i'll help you find it."

main masterlist/ellie's masterlist

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krazywomenonfire · 2 months ago

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Idk if you make canon Jeff the killer headcanons with a reader

now look I’m new here as well so just hear me out on this Alr???? :D

A canon jeff the killer x reader and how a it would be dating a CANON..CANON Jtk because I don’t understand the fandom type shit yk?

Anywaysss if you don’t write for a canon Jtk then ignore this :)

HI!!! Omg yes girl!! Canon Jtk is literally better then the fandom, dw I got you ;) ty for this request ty ty tyyy

What It Would Be Like Dating Canon Jeff The Killer

WARNINGS: Alcohol, cigarettes, smut, gore, violence, murder, abuse, somewhat a little fluff, Jeff the killer yall..there shouldn’t be a fr warning about him tbh👩‍🦲 , also death..yeah..anyways🧚‍♀️

• Let’s get to the fucking bottom of this, he doesn’t understand love and romantic shit, he honestly thinks it’s gross and a waste of time..like I’m being dead ass serious

• Ik your probably saying “then how tf am I dating em?”…it’s because of your company and I guess he needs a person here and there, sometimes even for sex when bored or had a bad day during a mission

• Now if he wasn’t dating you and was just using you as a sex salve or something, then he would have already killed you, but he doesn’t see you as that. No no no, he sees you as a work of art but a very annoying piece of shit art too

•If you your feeling like really down for whatever reason (LIKE FR SAD) and he’s not doing anything, he will hold you in his arms and let you cry onto his shoulder. He won’t say anything to you to make you feel better, he would just give you a hug then move on

• if he isn’t in a mission or with the other piece of shits at the mansion, then he’s at your place drinking alcohol, smoking, and watching tv being lazy. Yeah..that literally all he fucking does all day

• yall’s sex is really tense. No joke. When yall have sex especially if he’s pissed of at you or something else, you are NOT..NOT walking the next day. He’ll say things like “yeah..yeah that’s fucking right you love taking my fucking cock you dumb fucking bitch.” Yeah his words hurt like hell during sex, even on a random day for absolutely no reason

• he shows his love to you through touch definitely not through words he’s just not good at it. When walking through the woods with him, he’ll hold your hand, if your doing the dishes, arms wrapped around your waist with his face buried into your neck.He will come up to you randomly and just hold you

• When cuddling in bed with him, it’s a bit scary at the same time you just need to get used to it. He has a sleeping mask on to cover his eyes before he sleeps to make you more comfortable, but sometimes he’ll take it off because it feels uncomfortable to him and that’s when you look up to look at him..yeah, let’s just say you got freaked out. Deep under his heart, he hates seeing you scared of him (he likes it but still hurts him in a certain way). He’ll hold you close to his chest where your face is just buried into it, he likes to feel your body against him like that. His favorite position is where his face is buried into your boobs and you hold his head holding him close to you like a plushie. He only does that when he feels like he needs to

• dates? Oh romantic dates?? OH NORMAL DATES??? Nah uh, with canon Jtk that’s NOT HAPPENING, the only date you went on with him was walking with him in the fucking woods to go kill his victim and he made you watch as he slathered the fuck out of the person

IM GOING BACK ON HERE AND WRITING MORE ON THIS POST!!!! It’s like 4:00 am rn I gtg to bed yall gn/good morning/ have a goody day/ have a good night!

#jeff the killer #jeff the killer fanart #jeff the killer headcanons #creepypasta #canon #canon x reader #x reader #canon Jeff the killer #jeffery woods #jeff the killer x you #jeff the killer creepypasta #ben drowned #liu woods #slenderman #eyeless jack #slender mansion #kate the chaser #creepypasta fandom

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yumeboshi · 11 months ago

Note

Congratulations Yume on 100 followers! Every milestone is important. For the event could I request a spooky white chocolate sundae? Can’t wait to see everything you write!

❝ THANK YOU FOR YOUR ORDER、 @karamazovski .ᐟ ⟡ HERE IS YOUR RECEIPT FROM CAFÉ YUME ⟡

𐙚GHOST-WHITE SPOOKY SUNDAE：it isn’t halloween but it’ll certainly make you feel like it is。

𐙚 dish desc。．a horror movie date apparently wasn’t enough for him, so he decides to make his own in reality.

．。𝜗𝜚 labels。the desc kind of says it all, general yandere themes, mentions of gore and violence, filthy, yes, filthy… guys dw i.. I write for sunday fluff too.., MINORS DNI

．。𝜗𝜚 ingredients。sunday ahaha

#SྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིUNDAY

THIS was probably not the desired date you wanted with your fiancé.

you were expecting a romantic movie night. you and sunday promised to watch a fun horror movie at your place that was airing in the penacony theater most recently. you loved horror movies. you really did.

you liked them when they stayed as movies, though.

you’re not sure how to react— your home smells of rotting corpses and a total bloodbath, as if you’re walking around a massacre aftermath. it even looks like a horror movie set, except it’s genuinely real, every single writhing limb under piles of bodies is real. the smell of death is too thick to be called fake.

was sunday hurt? was he killed? you feel your head spinning in desperate circles. the blood looked too fresh for the killer to have left already. you don’t even want to imagine what would happen if he was not here. you loved him like he was your soulmate— perfect, soft, and always worrying over you. you grip your fists tightly to prevent the lump in your throat from advancing forward.

you notice something playing in the background and realize the tv is left on- it’s currently airing a movie, a kids movie, you can tell; by how Clockie scurries around the screen, babbling about the ‘deadly halloween season’ and how it would doom them all.

the movie wasn’t even close to scary- there wasn’t any blood and it was just about boss stone causing a Halloween chaos, but your current situation sure was, and the constant cartoony gibberish that continues to fill the menacing air didn’t help ease your nerves.

“sunday?” you whisper anxiously. he couldn’t have died, right? he was the head of the oak family. you don’t see anyone you recognize in the corpses either, not that you want to take a closer look.

there’s no response, so you uncomfortably open the only door that’s closed in your estate- the bathroom. you try to open it, but it’s securely locked. with a panic you try to unlock it desperately.

and it all happens too fast. the door suddenly springs open and you’re met by a figure covered in blood who knocks you instantly to the crimson-stained tiles, a knife right at your throat. you don’t even have the time to scream because of how everything moved unreasonably fast.

but suddenly, they chuckle- it starts as a low laugh, and it slowly escalates creepily. the knife on your throat is slowly removed and you feel the coldness leave your neck, albeit you feel it has caused a brief dent on it.

“you scared me, sweetheart.” between laughs, the figure removes the golden mask from his face— and graces you with handsome features that are all too familiar. your gut twists and fresh nausea quickly engulfs your senses. you don’t want this to be true. you beg this wasn’t true.

“…sunday?” your mind spins with unanswered questions you honestly don’t want to be answered- why, how, when? “what are you doing?” you try to find an ounce of his innocence anywhere. “did a killer come here? did anything happen? are you h-hurt?”

His wings brush your petrified ghostly face- golden eyes dripping like honeyed ichor, he caresses your cheek with a chuckle. “please, don’t give me those questions, angel.”

“i love you very much, as you know,” he continues; and you desperately hang on for a rational explanation- he smiles slightly at your begging look, knowing that he unfortunately cannot meet your needs. “i thought you were finally my little dove, my only sweetheart- i thought we were perfectly meant to be.” with a gentle hoist he lifts you up like a bride, and if you ignored the gruesome truth hard enough, the scene is almost romantic- but the way his shoes clink against the scarlet-coated floor with a sticky ooze lets you know this isn’t your idealistic romance movie, but a scene straight out of thriller.

“w-we still can be,” you whisper, an attempt to quell whatever he was going to do- or a desperate last attempt to convince yourself that he’s still the man you loved.

“oh, no. we can’t be, sweetheart— not with all these people interrupting us.” he gestures absently to the room- his eyes are all on you, and you wonder why you are seeing just how that his lovely golden eyes have deceived you to think that they were filled with love- when it was not. no, it was obsession, you can see the way they burn with a primal desire that is far too strong to be called love. They are glued onto you as he lies you down to the couch like you’re a diamond placed in a museum glass box.

“and at last, I could finally get rid of them at once- since ive heard you love horror movies and Halloween, my dear, this shouldn’t be too frightening for you.” he extends a hand to you to which you shy away from, scared- he smiles at that. “—i won’t harm you even if i was asked to, love, unless you like that.” with a swift nip, he pulls his snow-white gloves from his hands- now stained with blood that’s not his, he discards them to the floor with a sigh. “it’s certainly a shame to see my favorite attire and gloves all go to waste, though. Although, I’m sure it will be worth the pain.”

you are not sure how to respond- your rationale tells you to scream and run away from this maniacal angel that has lost his wings to descend into hell long ago— but your heart is begging you to stay, because you know he is the closest thing you had to a partner in life, the one angel that never left your side. when you are torn between how to act, his hands are already lifting up your shirt, exposing you to the chill of danger.

“I’m still the same man you loved, you know,” he whispers, his eyes lose some of their sadism and soften into everlasting gentleness. you’re not ready to look into them though, so try to look away— only for him to grip your chin to make you look back— you see your horror reflected inside his golden pupils that drink in your fear— and curve like the eyes of a jack-o-lantern.

he loves your fear. he loves the look you’re giving him a little too much, that he can’t help but let out a soft groan. oh, how he wants to take you right here and now, watching your entrance filled to the brim with cum, his cum- leaking out prettily to the sides as he pounds into you senselessly while promising you he’s going to be the perfect husband, the perfect father for your kids— and you’d be such a pretty wife, too, but he can’t, not when you are not married yet. he wants to keep his desires under control until his everlasting vows are bestowed right on your fingers, until you are his and his only.

the way he breathes into your skin, smiling adoringly at you without a care to the grotesque crimson room, makes you feel as if ants are crawling inside the pit of your stomach. it’s uncomfortable, you know you should leave him at this instant. he was breaking you. he was ruining your capability to think.

but why is it that no matter how hard you try to force the words out, that you don’t love him- not like this, you can’t utter a single syllable? maybe it is his hand doing wonders to you, ghosting over your skin, making your body jerk up and tremble. or maybe it’s the way how smoothly he kisses your lips that are dry with terror, cooing broken promises about how nothing is going to change, and that you’re still his happy future wife, forever and ever.

#𐙚．。articles #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail smut #sunday x reader #honkai star rail yandere #hsr smut #sunday smut #yandere sunday #hsr x reader

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radawaycunt · 1 year ago

Text

Revenge is a Dish Best Served Bloody

PART THREE: VIOLENT DELIGHTS

Part One // Part Two // Mini-Series Masterlist

Also on AO3

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Bounty Hunter!Reader

WC: 4.9k words

Chapter Summary: The climax, in more than one sense of the word. Justice is finally served, and all the other pieces fall into place.

Warnings: MINORS DNI, THIS FIC IS 18+, canon typical violence, some descriptions of blood and gore, arson, drug use (chem called Buffout), implied mutual pining, smut, fingering, unprotected p in v (dont do it at home), radiated creampie (there’s RadAway dw lol), dirty talking, dom/sub dynamics, multiple orgasms, aaaaaaaaaand that’s all i can think about rn but lmk if i missed anything!

---------

Sounds in the middle of the night, a distant clamor that sharpened into voices as you regained consciousness. You sat up, disoriented and wide-eyed. The ghoul crouched nearby, immediately alert, hand on his holster.

“What’s–”

He put a finger to his lips, fixing you with a glare and a slight shake of his head. Dread immediately curdled in your stomach. Ever so slowly, you lifted yourself onto a crouch, grabbing your crossbow.

Moonlight faintly filtered through a window caked with years of dirt and grime. The near complete darkness made the shadowed objects around the room morph into ominous, bulky shapes, exacerbating your fear. There was a momentary silence, in which both of you stayed still, listening.

The two of you had holed up for the night on the top floor of another dilapidated building. It sat on the outskirts of what used to be Shady Sands, a town that had been re-bombed years prior. The risk of running into trouble was much higher, as there was a lot more foot traffic. There was still plenty to scavenge, after all.

And not only did you have to worry about mutants or raiders, but also knights of the Brotherhood of Steel. One of their bases was closer than you’d like, and you’d heard the rumble of their choppers in the distance while you skirted the enormous crater where the city once stood.

According to the ghoul, you were only a few days away from Axl’s main compound. Without either of you acknowledging it, you’d slowed down the pace. The moments of silent companionship stretched like lingering summer sunsets, and yet somehow, they were still not long enough. At times, you even felt the same way you’d felt at the outcrop, bordering on serene.

It seemed surreal that your destiny was just within reach. Though you had been preparing for years, letting grief and rage carry you through even the toughest obstacle, you felt hesitancy for the first time. A part of you did not want to face the stark reality of it quite yet, not knowing how things would go down once you got to your destination.

It wasn’t necessarily that you had a fear of death – you lived so closely with it that you didn’t flinch at its inevitability. Only at its abject cruelty; The way it striked indiscriminately, with disregard for those left behind.

What you worried about was living through the whole ordeal and coming out the other side alone. The ghoul had no fealty to you, much less… attachment. You’d fooled around a couple more times throughout the journey, but it was all carnal pleasure – a lesson that your body was not just an instrument of brutality and survival. You’d let yourself become soft and pliable, like putty in his hands.

But that wasn’t to say he was tender, necessarily. There’d been no kisses between you – though you sought them in earnest – and he had not yet taken you, as he put it. His biting remarks weren’t nearly as sharp anymore, though, and you’d caught him being more protective of you. Not to mention, he always made sure you were never lacking RadAway.

For your part… You thought it was gentleness you felt, though you still couldn’t quite put a name to the way you were feeling. Perhaps just comfort was enough to describe it, interestingly enough.

Barks of laughter sounded a little clearer, reminding you of the situation at hand. A few crashes followed, like things were being thrown about. It definitely sounded like they were inside the building, you realized with growing terror. How close were they? And how many of them?

“I should go give these visitors a warm welcome, don’tcha think?” the ghoul whispered, unholstering his gun. “It’s only polite.”

“Don’t you mean we?” You whispered back.

“No, y’ain’t comin’ with. I don’t need you getting in the way,” he said as he stood up. “Not many places to hide up here, so you best start lookin’.”

“You can’t just make m–” You started to protest, also standing up, but in two silent strides, he was right in front of you, holding your chin firmly.

For the briefest second, he seemed to be debating something. His eyes searched yours as if he would find the answer there. Another crash, most likely on the floor just below, and his lips thinned into a grim line as he made up his mind.

“Listen…” he said, no time to waste. “The name’s Cooper. Holler it if you need help. Keep an eye out, but don’t let anyone see you.”

With that, he let go of you and slipped out of the room, not looking back once. You stood there for a moment, dumbstruck, his name rattling around your head like a pinball.

But you had to shake yourself out of it, quickly scanning your surroundings for a place to hide. He’d been right about there not being many options, but you hadn’t realized there were virtually none at all in that room.

Except… there was a broken window on the far wall, and you avoided stepping on shards of glass as you made your way over. Right outside, there was a rusted fire escape, ladders leading up and down.

You leaned out of the windowsill and looked up at the night sky, spotting the big and little dippers. It was lucky that the moon was almost full, not leaving you completely blind. You swung one leg over the windowsill and begged the stars – anything up there that could be listening – that the fire escape didn’t collapse under you.

It groaned slightly as you lowered yourself onto it, making you wince, but thankfully it was pretty sturdy. Still, you tried not to think too much about the height, stifling the vertigo that threatened to creep in. It was then that you heard yelling, accompanied by a barrage of gunshots. You felt a sharp pang of worry for Cooper, but you knew he could hold his own.

Out in the open, you were even less safe, but while you couldn’t really see anyone down below, you knew better than to descend. So, you used the more precarious ladder to ascend instead. Muscles tense as it shook and rattled, your palms sweating, but it held your weight.

Breathlessly hauling yourself onto the rooftop, you first made sure you were alone before lying on your stomach near the edge, crossbow ready. The scuffle continued below, and you hoped all the noise didn’t attract even more unwanted guests.

Time seemed to take a liquid form as you waited, slipping through your grasp unnoticed, your focus on the unrelenting night. The animal instinct to survive had kicked in, blocking out your fear and slowing your heartbeat down.

Your father’s patient voice was at the back of your head. “Remember, when it comes down to it, calm and focus is what it takes. You’re more likely to make a mistake otherwise, a deadly one.”

Suddenly, a whistle rang out – a high note shortening into a low one. You didn’t move at first, but then you adjusted your position slightly to try and get a better look at the source. A head poked out of the broken window below, and your finger was instantly on the trigger.

Cooper raised his hands in mock surrender, an amused, sly grin on his face. Your muscles immediately relaxed as you exhaled the breath you’d been holding.

“Jus’ me, cowpoke,” he drawled. “It’s clear now. Get your ass down here before I come get you.”

You found yourself smiling with relief as you put your weapon away, climbing down the ladder with less care than when you were going up. You stumbled into him as you dropped back onto the fire escape, losing your balance.

“Woah, easy there,” he said, steadying you but keeping you close. “Y’really missed me that much, darlin’? I was only gone for an hour.”

You shoved away from him, rolling your eyes. You noticed he was splattered with blood, some having transferred onto your clothes. None of it seemed to belong to him, though, which was another small relief.

“How many?” You asked, deflecting his question.

“Too many for my likin’, and y’know I like myself a crowd,” he said. “Most of ‘em had Axl’s brand, others seemed like newbies. Fuckin’ amateurs, all of ‘em.”

You swallowed with bitter distaste as you heard that name. Surely the death of a group of his men wouldn’t go unnoticed, so that meant you had less time to make a move. The two of you had discussed some plans of attack, but you hadn’t chosen any course of action yet.

You thought of the bottles of Buffout you’d scored in Filly, unbeknownst to him. You’d gotten them as a last resort, not stupid enough to believe the two of you would be able to take on a whole compound of raiders just as you were.

You crossed your arms over your chest. “What now?”

“We loot ‘em, and then we get a move on as soon as dawn comes.”

“No rest for the wicked,” you sighed, even if you were no longer tired.

“Ain’t that the truth,” he chuckled. “But you were a good girl tonight, listenin’ to my orders.”

You bit down a grin and climbed in through the window so he couldn’t see the flustered look on your face. He checked the hallway as you gathered the rest of your stuff, and then you followed him out of the room, unable to stop the warmth spreading in your chest.

“Cooper?” You whispered, barely wanting to disturb the silence. “Thank you, again.”

Silence hung for a moment, and you thought he wouldn’t respond at all.

“That’s twice now,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at you. “Don’t think I’ll forget your debt after all this.”

That warmth exploded into fireworks and oh, you knew you were doomed either way.

—-----------------------------------

The compound was larger than you’d imagined, visible from a great distance. As soon as you’d crested the hill, you’d felt like a stone dropped into your stomach. The sun had set an hour ago, so the cover of darkness was to your advantage. No turning back now.

But before Cooper could take another step forward, you grasped his arm without thinking. He frowned as he looked down at your hand, then up at your face.

“Y’ain’t havin’ second thoughts, are ya?” He asked. “Little too late for that nonsense.”

You shook your head. “It’s not that, it’s just… maybe we need to reassess our strategy before we do anything hasty. I could use some more rest, too and–”

“Quit it,” he snapped. “What’s the matter with you? You anxious?”

How could I not be? You thought to yourself. You were braced for a fight, itching for it, even. It had made sleeping impossible the previous nights, no matter how much Cooper had tried to force you to rest. The constellations in the sky seemed to brighten the closer you got to the compound; Guiding the way, granting you strength.

But you wanted one more moment with him, just as you were then. So you gave into foolishness, pulling him in as you stood on your tiptoes to bring your lips to his. He flinched, surprised, gripping you in return. You were ready for him to shove you away, but when he didn’t, you placed a hand on his chest.

His lips were chapped, but not unpleasant. Warm, too, and set firmly at the first delicate brush of your lips. You heard a grunt low in his throat as he felt the tip of your tongue swiping at his bottom lip, coaxing, and it was then he snapped out of his shock.

The way he kissed you was rough and hungry, with a certain desperation you knew he would never admit out loud. Your tongues tangled, exploring each other’s mouths – though, truly, his was dominating yours. He gripped your hair, keeping you from escaping, even if it was the last thing you wanted to do.

But before you could get too deep into the kiss – reaching another point of no return – he pulled back, searching your face. Felt fire in his loins as he saw the glazed look of desire in your eyes, but he had to bat it away for the time being.

“Should’ve jus’ said you were needy,” he murmured. “But then again, you always are.”

A faint smile at his teasing, but he noticed the turmoil beneath. “Cooper...”

He let go of you, sobering up and slipping back into his usual prickly demeanor. The times called for it after all; He knew you needed that strength, too. He cleared his throat and glanced back at the compound, trying to think. An idea suddenly came to mind, and he couldn’t help a lopsided grin.

“I say we burn the whole place to the ground,” he said, tilting his head towards it. “And when they’re runnin’ around like chickens with their heads cut off, I’ll carve you a path towards him in the chaos.”

You froze, eyes widening, momentarily unsure of what to say. “I thought you said you had business with him, too.”

He shrugged, looking away. “You’ll settle the score for the both of us.”

The enormity of this statement — this unspoken gift — rocked you to your core, making you take an involuntary step forward. You thought to reach out to take his gloved hand, a rare sob clogging your throat, but you knew it would ruin the moment.

You would find a way to thank him later, when all was said and done.

—————————————

It was both fortunate and unfortunate that the raiders had stocked up on so much fuel. To them, it was most likely a precious commodity. To you, well… It was merely a means to an end — A conveniently deadly one.

In the darkest hour of night, Cooper had slipped into the encampment, silent as a shadow. You decided to knock back some Buffout and wait for the mayhem to start. He’d told you to stay hidden until the fire had really taken, but you were already bouncing around impatiently, starting to feel the effects of the chem.

The sharp tang of the fuel reached you in the breeze, and you clasped the handle of his machete with a white knuckled grip. Though you had weapons, he’d insisted you carry it, just in case. It brought you some comfort to have it, as if it was an extension of him.

In the distance, there was the sound of a small explosion. You jumped, but didn’t make a move yet. Those within the encampment started to rise, their voices confused and alert. Every single one of your muscles were poised to run, your senses screaming at you to spring forward. Pupils fully dilated, mind sharper than ever. You briefly wondered if that was how prey drive must feel. Buffout’s no fucking joke.

Instead, you slowly skirted the perimeter, keeping to the shadows. The voices raised and beneath them, there was the dragging hiss of fire igniting, catching hold of everything in its path.

Another explosion, this one much closer, if the subtly trembling earth was any indication. And so commenced the cacophony of chaos, though there was one word among the screams that you were able to distinguish – Ghoul!

The fire was rapidly spreading, so much so that you could feel its incandescent heat, sweat beading all over your face. Show time. You sprang up from your haunches and scurried to the nearest opening.

Things were blurry from then on. You had more than a few close brushes with certain death, but every time, without fail, a whizzing bullet would be your salvation. But that wasn’t to say your machete went unused, blood spattering you like a warrior’s anointing.

Axl’s main quarters were, unsurprisingly, harder to break into. Cooper took care of it, disposing of the raiders that were guarding their leader. The room was cramped with all sorts of loot, including hundreds of caps, perhaps more. Weapons, as well, and not to mention an assortment of Chems.

Axl himself was a large man with long, wild hair that was streaked with grey. He was wearing armor made of scraps and he was riddled with scars, one of his eyes missing. The one remaining glared at the two of you – just as mean mugged as you remembered – but he only seemed to recognize Cooper.

“Surprised to see me?” Cooper said, grinning easily. “Suppose you were so cocksure I wouldn’t discover your ruse, sendin’ me on that wild goose chase.”

“It was a perfectly valid bounty, guess you just didn’t read the fine print.” Axl smiled cruelly in return, his eye returning to you as you took a step forward, teeth bared. “Who’s this bitch? Your guard dog?”

In the next moment, his knee exploded in a spray of blood and gore as Cooper shot him, ripping an agonized howl from his throat as he collapsed.

“Since nobody taught you any fuckin’ manners, I thought I might as well do it,” Cooper said, trying to sound bored despite the rage in his tone.

“You stupid motherfucker! I’m gonna … Kill you for this!” Axl managed to growl, writhing on the floor in torment, pathetically trying to drag himself towards any nearby weapon.

Cooper ignored the threats and nodded towards you. “All yours, cowpoke. Best hurry now, fire’s still spreadin’.”

You held his gaze, hoping your eyes could communicate all you wanted to say. Things took a dreamlike quality, time narrowing down to that very moment. You nodded back, and there was the ghost of a smile on his face. You drifted forward, the past and the present intermingling in your mind.

The memory of your father’s laughter. Years of adventures and survival and the foolish belief that you would always have each other. The startled look on his face as the bullet went straight through his jugular. How he’d pushed you to safety right before his body slumped over. The glimpse of his killer’s face, which had branded itself in your mind.

Now, you had it in front of you once more, right where you wanted it. And not a hint of doubt clouded your mind.

You raised the machete over your head–

“This is for my father, you son of a bitch.”

– And swung it down in a swift, deadly arc.

—------------------------------------------------

You weren’t sure how you were walking, but you knew you needed to get a safe distance away from the burning encampment. Cooper held you to him as you trembled all over, adrenaline leaving your system in hot and cold waves.

“There, there, you’re alright,” he soothed, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “We’ll stop soon, I promise. Come down’s a bitch on that one, ain’t it?”

You nodded, having confessed to the Buffout earlier, cold sweat running down your back. “I feel like I need to sleep for a thousand years.”

He chuckled. “I’ll give you a night, sweetheart. Maybe a couple, If I’m feelin’ generous. I ain’t done with you yet, remember?”

You peered up at him, one corner of your lips curling up in a smirk. “Oh yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” he confirmed. “Matter of fact, I think it’ll take you those thousand years to repay all your debts.”

“I can start tonight.”

“Easy there, cowgirl. If I were you, I’d use my time wisely and rest,” he said pointedly. “You know I don’t play around.”

“Hmmm, I don’t know, Cooper. I’m still feeling pretty restless,” You said, lying through your teeth. Exhaustion ran deep, but that wouldn’t stop you from seeking him, eager to become soft once more. At his mercy.

He hummed in thought, eyes flicking down to you, nonchalant. “Guess I might just have to put you to sleep, huh?”

You grinned, biting your lip and pressing yourself closer to his side. You found a small, rundown shack to hole up in, and he poked his head in to make sure there were no rad roaches or mole rats.

There was barely enough space for the two of you, but you didn’t mind. He threw his coat on the floor and you set your stuff down before he was cornering you. He tugged off his gloves, tossing them aside.

“First thing’s first, gotta get you out of these filthy clothes,” he husked, hands settling on your hips, fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt.

He undressed you methodically, enjoying the slowness of it. Revealing more and more of that soft skin he loved to touch, and peeling away the brutality of the night. A hum of appreciation as his hands began to roam, tugging you closer and lowering you onto his coat in an all too familiar way.

“Much better,” he murmured, feasting his eyes and making sure you were unharmed in equal measure.

A few scrapes and bruises, but you’d live. He’d done a good job, all things considered. He let out a low, appreciative whistle, barely able to keep his hands to myself.

Your eyes were shiny with want as you looked up at him, lips parted, body taut with anticipation; Shuddering for an entirely different reason. His nails trailed up your thigh as he leaned forward, hovering over you.

“Well, ain’t you the gift that jus’ keeps on givin’?” he rasped, kissing a spot on your jaw just beneath your ear. “All mine to unwrap and play with.”

You nodded, moving your face so his lips would meet yours. But he held back with a tsk.

“Say it f’me, darlin’.”

“All yours,” you sighed, a teasing smile on your lips. “For the next a thousand years or so.”

“That so?” His hand came up to grasp your face. “We’ll see about that.”

He kissed you then, tongue invading your mouth, licking your upper lip in a way that had you whimpering. It was lazy and indulgent, his free hand slowly trailing down your front.

The same hands that had caused so much destruction now coaxing a fire of a different kind. The night’s events were banished to the periphery of your mind, a languid haze taking over.

And then his fingers reached their target, and he moaned into your mouth as he parted your slick folds and discovered just how wet you were. Unfurling like a flower at his touch, chest heaving, arching against his hand.

You keened as he plunged two fingers inside you, the pad of his thumb pressing against your clit. Drawing circles in that teasing way he knew would have you bucking under him.

“That’s it, nice and slow,” he husked, pulling back to look at your face. “Make those pretty sounds for me.”

It was hard to hold his gaze — much less focus — as he deftly managed to pump his fingers and move his thumb. Your brain nearly short circuited as he found a rhythm that had you dangerously close to the edge… but also left you craving more.

“Fuck,” you gasped, clutching the wrist of the hand that held your face, if only to anchor yourself to something.

His grin was roguish. “Yeah? Gonna give me one like this?”

You tried your best to keep it at bay, wanting to save it for the melding of your bodies, but he could feel the flutter around his fingers.

“Please, I-I want your cock…” you pleaded. “I need you inside me.”

A soft chuckle to conceal the low groan in his throat, the hunger growing within him.

“In time,” he said. “Nobody said anythin’ about you only cumming once, honey.”

With that, his fingers doubled their effort. Your back arched off the ground as you felt pleasure quickly building inside of you — a dam ready to burst.

A choked sound left you as you tumbled over the edge without warning. Muscles clenching as you felt the orgasm rippling outward, blissfully emptying your mind of anything else.

“There’s a good girl,” he praised, feeling the tight squeeze of your cunt around his fingers, his cock twitching painfully in his pants. “See? I knew you could give it to me.”

Your head swam as his hands withdrew. You heard the soft rasp of his zipper being undone and the clink of his belt. Eager, you looked down as he nudged your thighs further apart with his knee, slotting his body between them.

The slick, flushed head of his cock encircled by his fist, pumping himself — large and hard and textured just like the rest of him. He let spit fall from his mouth onto your clit, spreading it with the shaft of his cock as he rutted against you.

Your legs jerked a little with the stimulation against your still puffy clit, but needy whines still poured from your lips like the sweetest melody to his ears.

You knew better than to tell him not to tease you, instead hitching your hips to meet his movements. He growled, barely able to hold back by that point. You softly sighed as your knees pressed against his sides. The head notched at your entrance and he pushed inside, thrusting shallowly to open you up further as he reached halfway.

“Fuckin’ hell, you’re tight,” he rasped as you clutched his arms. “Greedy cunt can’t help squeezing me, huh?”

Before you could even try to respond, his hips snapped a little more roughly, finally burying himself to the hilt. A shared exhale as he bottomed out, fully stretching you.

“C-Cooper,” you breathed. “Fuck, please, keep going.”

“I’ll take care of ya, don’t you worry,” he said, voice ragged.

He grasped your hips hard enough to bruise, pulling back only to slam forward again. Tugging you to meet his thrusts – long and deep – and you submitted amiably. Soon, the room was filled with the obscene, slapping sound of your bodies joining. Your moans spiraling in a hypnotic repetition, your eyes heavy-lidded as you lifted your head to get a better look of him driving into you.

“Takin’ me so well,” he groaned. “Pretty lil pussy made just for me.”

Your ankles pressed against his lower back, urging him on, not wanting to separate from him for even a moment. Sweat dotting your brow and stray tears of overstimulation on your lash line. You were everything worth adoring, in his eyes.

One hand reached up to paw at your breasts, which he’d been watching bounce with each one of his thrusts. Pinching the nipples between his fingers, drawing a small yelp from you, but feeling you clamp down on him at the mix of pleasure and pain.

“O-oh, I’m s-so close… Cooper,” You gasped, and he felt your legs start to tremble.

“Go on, sweetheart, give it to me,” he urged, pushing your legs further up and adjusting his angle. “Wanna feel you come all over my cock.”

Somehow, he felt much deeper that way, pounding at your cervix in a way that had you practically yowling. A momentary dizziness as if you were teetering at a great height… and the second orgasm hit you ruthlessly, forever ruining you for anybody else that wasn’t him.

He let out a long, rough groan, and heat flooded inside of you as he also came. He fucked you through it, hips stuttering as he emptied out.

In the come down, you were both panting hard, drunk on endorphins. All energy sapped out of you, lying boneless on top of his coat. He chuckled at the sight of you, something dangerously close to fondness in his amber eyes.

“Little late to ask if you got protection, huh?”

“You know I keep that RadAway on me,” you rasped, smiling weakly.

“Atta girl. And speaking of,” he murmured, pulling out of you and leaving you achingly empty.

Your vision swam as you watched him tuck himself away, making his way towards his pack. But by the time he found the distinct yellow IV bag, you were slipping into the best sleep you’d ever had.

—————————————

It was well past morning by the time you woke up. The sun was high, and you felt its heat wafting in through the doorway. Cooper wasn’t around, but you were relieved to see his things were still there.

You noticed he’d cleaned you up to the best of his ability, but you were still naked. You winced as you sat up, stretching your arms over your head. Slowly, you stood up and gathered your clothes from around the small room.

Still, despite all the aches, you felt as if a huge burden had been lifted off your shoulders. The pain of remembering had turned into a dull throb which would take more time to fully heal. At least now you could focus on the good memories, no longer haunted by the need for justice.

Freedom was at your fingertips – to choose, to live. Even the sky seemed a little bluer that day.

As you finished getting dressed, you heard the clink of spurs growing closer, his figure hovering in the doorway.

“How’s my little killer?” Cooper said, leaning against the frame, arms crossed over his chest.

“Like I’ve been run over,” you said, grinning. “But good, otherwise.”

“Good. It’s about time we get up outta here. I let you rest more than enough.”

A flutter in your chest at the word we, reminding you that perhaps your freedom would be partial, but you didn’t mind as long as it was in his company.

“Right, where to next?” You asked, hauling your pack onto your back.

He shrugged, sly smile tugging at one corner of his lips. “The world is our oyster, darlin’. We can go wherever we damn please.”

You mirrored his smile, thinking that underneath that tough, seemingly unbreakable exterior, he just might be feeling the same way about you. “Lead the way, then.”

-----

The End.

#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x you #cooper howard smut #cooper howard fanfiction #the ghoul smut #the ghoul fanfiction #fallout smut #fallout fanfiction #minors dni #cooper howard #the ghoul #monster tag

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g00d--m0urning · 1 month ago

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Unnamed PT. 3 (Daryl Dixon x AFAB!Reader)

TW/CW: vomiting, gore and violence (not super descriptive, dw), reader is pregnant so obvi AFAB but no gendered descriptors, ex-cop!reader, swearing, no use of Y/N, grammar mistakes, mostly canon compliant

word count: 3708

Author's note: It felt like it was getting long, so I cut it short,:( next part tho, obvi also, yay! an update after forever

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Rick looks between you and the radio, confusion furrowing his brows. He wipes sweat from his brow, staring at the radio, willing the person on the other side to speak again.

“Hey, are you alive in there?” Holy shit, his mean staring worked. Your eyes blow wide, going to reach for the walkie, but Rick beats you to it.

“Hello? Hello?”

There’s a sigh of relief through the other end before he speaks again, “There you are. You had me wondering.”

You’re slowly learning Rick has little patience--not that you can blame him right now--as he clicks the button again, “Where are you? Outside? Can you see us right now?”

You have to restrain yourself from making some smartass comment about him being in the tank with you guys, figuring now’s not the time.

“Yeah, I see you. You’re surrounded by walkers. That’s the bad news.”

“There’s good news?”

“No.”

You don’t bother holding back the scoff at that; fantastic. You’re going to die, in a hot, muggy ass tank with a guy you barely know.

“Listen, whoever you are, I don’t mind telling you, we’re a little concerned here.”

How rude! You are not ‘concerned’ (you are), there is no need to be bringing you into this very odd conversation.

“Oh man, you should see it from over here. You’d be having a major freak-out.”

Your jaw drops a little; that’s comforting. Really. If you make it out of here, it’s becoming a personal mission to dropkick the little ass on the other side of this. Rick couldn’t seem to care less, running a hand down his face before speaking again.

“Got any advice for us?”

“Yeah, I’d say make a run for it.”

Is he demented!? ‘Make a run for it’!? Out there? Surrounded by cannibalistic freak-o’s? Rick seems to have the same thought process.

“That’s it? ‘Make a run for it?’” Rick scoffs, looking over at you with an annoyed expression for a split second. “My way's not as dumb as it sounds. You've got eyes on the outside here. There's one geek still up on the tank but the others have climbed down and joined the feeding frenzy where the horse went down” the guy explains and the situation is actually less worrisome than you expected, “With me so far?”

Rick looks over at you for confirmation and you nod, “So far.”

“Okay, the street on the other side of the tank is less crowded. If you move now while they're distracted, you stand a chance. Got ammo?”

“In the duffel bag I dropped out there, and guns. Can I get to it?”

You silently place a curse on Rick’s entire bloodline; what kind of jackass leaves the guns out there?

“Forget the bag, okay? It’s not an option. What do you have on you?”

Son of a bitch, this is one of the worst situations you have ever been in, period. Rick groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Hang on.” he sighs, lifting his shirt up to grab his gun and counting out his rounds. You do the same, checking your magazine and the box of ammo in your bag.

‘Glock, full mag and box of ammo.’ you mouth to Rick when he looks up at you, nodding a little.

Something seems to catch his eyes as he leans over to the dead soldier, unclipping a hand grenade from the utility belt. He presses a finger to his lips--like you’ve talked at all since Mr. Mysterious started talking over the radio and would snitch. As if.

“Yeah. Yeah. I've got a Beretta with one clip, fifteen rounds and a glock nineteen, matching ammo” Rick finally answers, disappointed in the lack of protection. That bag would be a great help.

“You two better make ‘em count. Jump off the right side of the tank, keep going in that direction. There’s an alley up the street, maybe fifty yards. Be there.” Bossy. You don’t even know if you can trust him, Rick seems to, gathering himself to pop out of the hatch. It’s either stay in here and rot or chance surviving out there. You sigh deeply through your nose, tightening your grip around the strap of your bag, ready to bolt.

Rick stands up, radio still firmly in his hand, “Hey, what’s your name?” You could smack him, it’s a good question, but not at all the right time.

“Have you been listening? You’re running out of time.” For once you agree with the idiot on the other side.

“Right!” Rick nods like the other guy can see him, dropping the radio.

Rick grabs a broken shard of metal, and you ready your knife. He turns the hatch open, pulling himself out. You follow suit, groaning with effort as you stand up on the tank. You yelp a little as Rick slashes the face of the zombie still on the tank.

He helps you off the take, shooting an undead to his right. You shoot one to his left and then the one behind it. Both of you hurry to the alleyway, Rick dropping another three zombies and you one. The sheriff knocks into something, a someone you realize after both of you aim your guns up at him.

“Whoa! Not dead! Come on! Come on! Back here! Come on! Come on!” he exclaims, gesturing to the ladder.

The young guy climbs up the ladder first, you stand by the edge, facing the alley entrance in case anything tries to wander down your way. Rick grabs your shoulder, gently shoving you to face the other way and hurriedly motioning for you to go up.

You go to argue but groans fill the air and you have no choice but to climb up. The cage further up feels claustrophobic, especially with someone in front, feet dangerously close to stomping on fingers.

“What’re you doing!? Come on!” the male exclaims, looking down at Rick, causing you to look down. The idiots only a few rungs up and shooting at the staggering zombies.

Thank god, he listens, holstering his gun and bolting up the ladder; almost bumping head first into your boot. As you reach a utility platform, Unknown offers a hand, which you’re out of breath enough to take, hauling yourself onto the little patio. Rick follows suit, folding in half and trying to catch his breath.

“Nice moves there, Bonnie and Clyde. You two come riding in to clean up the town?”

The rest of the conversation goes unheard, male voices merely muttering behind you in blurry voices. An overwhelming wave of nausea hits like a freight train, leaning over the railing and spewing your guts onto the concrete below. Both of the men turn to look at you, Rick--knowing of your condition--looks at you in concern and the other in disgust. You just scowl a little, giving a small thumbs up to reassure them of your state.

“‘M fine, the smell just--it’s rancid,” you extend as an excuse, turning to look at the pair.

The three of you climb up the ladder, the two men continue to converse. Glenn, you think the other one’s name is, if you heard properly. You get lost in your own head, worries clouding your mind; is it going to be like this the whole time? All it takes is just a sprint and you're out of commission? That’s certainly not convenient.

You lag behind the duo, letting them chat about whatever they are chatting about. It takes another ladder and a walk across a roof until you finally tune back into the conversation.

“I’m back. Got two guests plus four geeks in the alley,” Glenn speaks into the walkie he has in his hand. So, he’s not alone, makes sense.

Glenn opens a door that leads to stairs; ugh, stairs, the damnation of transportation, stairs were horrible even before pregnancy. Two zombies pop out, reflexes working quickly as you reach for your gun, but two men--alive ones this time--round the corner. They’re decked in what looks like catcher’s gear and baseball bats and begin just absolutely brutalizing the undead; well past overkill by the time they stop.

The shorter one yells at the other--Morales, you think you heard--to move and the five of you barrel into the next room. So much happens in the next three seconds. You barely have time to register that some chick has a gun in Rick’s face before yours is pointed at her.

“You son of a bitch. We ought to kill you,” she spits, shooting a look in your direction, but keeping the gun on Rick.

Morales jumps in, trying to coax her off the edge of splattering Rick’s brains over the display behind him, “Just chill out, Andrea. Back off.”

Not that you expect her to actually shoot him, you’ve seen a lot of people shoot and a lot who haven’t and she doesn’t have the ‘I’ll do it’ look to her.

Another female jumps in, “Come on, ease up,” she pleads with Andrea.

Blondie scoffs like it’s the craziest idea in the world to ‘ease up’ and lower the gun from your…friend? Acquaintance? Survival tactic?‘s face. You’re tempted to raise your gun at her, but you present self-restraint, also her safety’s on. Dumbass. That’s until the gun is in your face. “‘Ease up?’ You’re kidding me, right? We’re dead because of these assholes,” Andrea snarls, her gaze hardening as she looks between you and Rick.

“Oh, come on, blondie, lower it,” you suggest, head tipping slightly. She’s not going to shoot you and you’re willing to brave that theory.

“Yeah, listen to us, back the hell off. Or pull the trigger,” Morales insists, causing you to glare at him as he tells her to pull it. He just shrugs.

Andrea chuckles dryly, but lowers the gun. “We’re dead… All of us… Because of you,” she shudders, shaking her head.

You get what she means, clearly Rick doesn’t as he expresses his confusion. Several of them hop in to ‘politely’ tell him--and you, you just choose to stick your nose up and ignore them because you really had no choice--off.

Zombies start smashing at the double doors and that snaps you back to the current situation. You’re stuck in a building with several people you don’t know and Rick’s going on about some helicopter you didn’t see and the entire thing is just fucked. A niggling of regret pokes somewhere in your brain; maybe it’d have been better to just rot away in your apartment.

You wander around the store, vaguely listening to the conversation happening between the group when a necklace catches your attention: it’s a tiny thing, clearly meant for a child, a tiny ‘b’ hanging off the silver chain. You nick the jewelry from the display--not like the owners will miss it--tucking it into the pocket with your sonogram for the tiny bug you’ve got growing inside you.

Rounds popping off catch your attention, slipping back over to the group like you never left. Everybody groans, so it seems they know exactly who’s shooting.

“Oh no. Is that Dixon?” Andrea questions, pretty rhetorically.

Morales slaps his palm to his forehead, pinching the bridge of his nose, “What is that maniac doing?”

Glenn starts herding everybody onto the roof, while you’re still reeling. The last name sparking premature hope you wish would die out. Dixon is a fairly common last name--you think--and what are the odds it’d be Daryl? Incredibly slim. The odds are incredibly slim.

The group bursts through the door, jogging over to whoever is shooting at the ground. Hopefully at the zombies, there’d be no point in wasting ammo, you’d have to be stupid to the point where you wouldn’t have to worry about getting eaten by cannibalistic undead.

You feel an insurmountable rage when you finally reach the shooter: Merle motherfucking Dixon. Of course it’s him. Why wouldn’t be him!? Why would you even think for a moment that Merle Dixon wouldn’t still be alive to screw with your existence even after the apocalypse has reigned its course on the planet.

T-Dog and Merle have a colorful conversation when Rick finally decides to play peacemaker, pushing the two apart. Merle rears up to chew Rick out when he notices you despite your best efforts to shrink into the floor.

“Well if it ain’t the town piggie,” he drawls, pointing the barrel of his gun in your direction, weaving through the group.

You ignore the insults--their practically nicknames with him--rolling your eyes and blatantly ignoring the confused glances the group is giving you.

“Been a long time since I’ve seen yer face.. Broke my brother’s heart disappearing like that, y’know?” he continues, brushing a hand over your cheek like the sleazeball he is.

It’s your turn to be confused: Daryl missed you? You figured he’d be glad you left. One less cop to fuck up his life. Merle’s mouth opens again, but you beat him to the punch--literally. You can’t stop yourself, your fist connecting with his face hard enough to send him backwards.

“Oops?” you grimace as his head bounces off a pole, knocking him out cold. Not ‘oops.’ Absolutely not ‘oops.’ “I did not mean to do that.” You did. God, that felt good.

“Eh, Someone had to do it; just wish it was me,” Morales shrugs, lips down turning as he looks at Merle’s unconscious body.

Merle’s not put very long, just long enough for Rick to get handcuffs on one of his wrists and attach him to the pole that he hit his head on. In true Merle fashion, his mouth is open the moment he wakes up, yanking the short chain on his wrist as he barks at Rick for leashing him.

Rick goes on some goody two-shoes lecture, something about how it's just the ‘living and the dead’ and ‘white meat and dark meat,’ you weren't paying much attention, more so lost in thought.

If Merle is alive, there's a large chance Daryl is too because if there's one thing you have to give Merle Dixon, it's the love he has for his brother; no matter how unconventional it might be.

By the time you start paying attention again, a plan is hatched.

Said plan fails because the sewer tunnel is gated off and zombie filled behind said off, so onto plan b.

Rick chops at the dead guy--Wayne Dunlap--and the smell is absolutely horrid, it's got everyone gagging.

“I'm so gonna hurl,” Glenn groans, a hand clutched over his stomach.

“I double that notion,” you mutter, covering your mouth with your hand as bile rises in your throat.

“Later, you two,” Rick responds, receiving glares from both you and Glenn.

Once Wayne is thoroughly mushed, Glenn and Rick start covering themselves in guts, which is probably the most repulsive thing you've ever watched.

You rush to a corner, leaning against the wall as you puke. You don't hear what T-Dog said, but it pushes Glenn over the edge.

“Scoot over,” he gasps, bumping into you and throwing up himself.

“One, fuck you, this is my puke corner,” you scowl, swallowing thickly and resting your back against the wall once you're done, “and two, at least that'll help the stench.”

Glenn mumbles out a ‘sorry,’ snorting at your second statement. Once Rick and Glenn are slathered in zombie pâté, they exit the building and miraculously, they don’t immediately become a midday snack!

That doesn’t last long because it starts to rain. Of course it does! Why wouldn’t it? They do manage to get into a truck… and drive off. Motherfuckers!

“They’re leaving us,” Andrea gasps and that sets off Merle which sets off Morales and now everyone is panicked.

“Hey! Calm the fuck down. They didn’t leave us, they just had to circle around,” you shout of the group, throwing your hands up, “No one has any chill anymore, my god.”

“How do you know that they didn’t leave us, huh? Because it sure looks like they did,” Andrea retorts, glowering at you. What a bitch, but also… you don’t know. You’re kind of putting your blind trust in men you’ve known less than twelve hours.

But somebody’s on your side today; just moments later Rick pulls up in the van, “You want me to say ‘I told you so,’ oooooor no?” you ask, smiling smugly as you all rush down the stairs.

You all get in the van, safe and sound. Except for Merle, which you can’t say you’re heartbroken about, but if Daryl is still alive, that’ll be a problem. That’s a later problem, though. You lean against the wall, resting a hand over your stomach in a way you hope is discrete.

“You’re pregnant?” Morales askes and what the fuck? How does he know? That’s two men who have caught on quickly, “My wife: she did that a lot when she was pregnant,” He clarifies because, apparently he's a mind reader too!

“Yeah, I’m pregnant,” you admit; honestly, it’s probably a good thing you don’t have to hide it, hiding a pregnancy in the apocalypse would be stupid.

There’s a mixed bag of reactions, which was expected, but the excitement wears down quickly as everyone settles, exhausted from the day. Yourself included. The drive is quiet and surprisingly peaceful, given the circumstances.

About fifteen minutes later, the van pulls to a stop, and everyone piles out of the back. You hang back for a moment, taking in the last bit of shade and peace before climbing out yourself. You catch yourself looking around camp for a certain redneck, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

Rick gets out of the front seat, coming to stand by your side, giving your shoulder a squeeze. A split second later, you hear a kid calling ‘dad,’ turning to find a boy rushing towards a now teary eyed Rick. A woman wearing a shocked expression follows after and you put the dots together: his wife and son.

They share a tear jerking reunion--you do however chalk your misty eyes up to hormones--and everyone gets introduced to each other! They’re a shockingly big group and they didn’t seem mad gaining two new additions. Everyone seems nice; except for Ed, he’s a douche, and Shane, there’s nothing inherently wrong with him, but he rubs you the wrong way.

As everyone converses by the fire, you hang back, unsure where to put in, but someone brings up Daryl--Dale, you’re pretty sure, you like him, his eyebrow game is on fleek--and you snap back to attention. They’re talking about who’s going to take the blame for leaving Merle on the roof, you hardly care, you’re more focused on the fact that he’s alive.

“I’ll take the blame,” you suddenly say, ignoring the way everyone looks at you like you’re off your rocker.

“You don’t have to do that, Sunshine,” Rick argues and you definitely ignore the nasty look you get from his wife. The others chime in, agreeing with Rick.

“No, but I want to and you’re welcome because if you do it, Daryl’s gonna put an arrow in between your eyes,” you say, not budging. Dale, ever the smart man, puts the pieces together quicker than the others.

“You know Daryl?” he asks, raising his eyebrow and oh my gosh, you yearn to reach that level of judgy.

“Yes, I do and no, I’m not clarifying further,” you answer, standing up, stretching your arms above your head, “I’ll take the blame for Merle, end of conversation. Now, goodnight all.”

You don’t wait for any type of response, walking off and taking refuge in the back of the van. You get your sleeping bag unrolled, curling up underneath the fabric.

You wake up to the sound of clanging, begrudgingly getting up and changing back into real pants--as much as you love your Care Bear pjs, you think that’s more a day two outfit--rolling your sleeping bag back up and leaving the van.

“Look at ‘em. Vultures. Yeah, go on, strip it clean,” you hear Glenn grumble, finding out the source of clanging is the stripping of the sports car.

“Ah, don’t worry, I’ll let you drive my baby once I get her back,” you tell Glenn, slapping him on the shoulder, which makes him jump.

“For someone who’s pregnant, you sure are sneaky,” he gasps, setting a hand over his heart, “what’s your baby?” He asks, intrigued now that he isn’t actively dying of a heart attack.

“My baby is a ‘67 Chevy. Beautiful girl, all her original parts, and she purrs like a dream,” you say, sighing wistfully at the thought of your girl. You’re going to get her back, even if it kills you.

“Isn’t that the car from Supernatural?”

“It is, yeah. Good show.”

“I loved it, I miss it. I miss tv.”

“Me too. Jensen Ackles was so hot.

“I’m more of Sam dude, but yeah.”

You and Glenn sigh in unison, cueing both of you to crack smiles and laugh, shaking your heads. You pat Glenn’s shoulder again then head over to where Rick is.

“Mornin’ Sunshine,” he greets, smiling way too brightly for…sometime early…in the morning.

“Cowboy,” you nod back, rolling your eyes at his sunny disposition; maybe he’s the one that should be called sunshine.

You go to greet his wife, but the sounds of kids screaming cuts you off. Immediately, people are running off in that direction, stupidly, yourself included. It’s just a zombie gnawing on a shot up deer… Fuck. That’s Daryl’s deer, or was, it’s not edible now.

You feel your blood go cold when a familiar drawl fills the air, yelling about something or another. He doesn’t notice you, immediately stomping his way back to camp, calling for Merle. Double fuck!

Shane tries to get him to slow down, wanting to tell him about Merle, but Daryl doesn’t let up. When he finally does register what happens, he’s got a knife to Rick’s neck and you figure now is the time to step in.

“I did it! I knocked Merle out and I locked his ass on the roof, and I enjoyed it, so get the knife off Rick and on me.”

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x gn!reader #the walking dead x reader #daryl dixon #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead x y/n #the walking dead x you #Daryl Dixon x AFAB!Reader #unnamed

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captain-joongz · 10 months ago

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Abraxas; Act 1, Chapter 2 Part 2

Pairing: mafia boss!Min Yoongi x police office!reader

Genre: enemies to lovers, humour, angst, investigation themes, dark themes, eventual smut, slowburn, some fluff

Chapter summary: As spring time comes, the police station finds itself intensely focused on several cold murder cases linked to the gangs. Amidst this chaos, it's hard to find time for anything else except for grappling with the position in the team and the burning ambition to be accepted, but something lovely might just be awaiting right behind the corner. The complicated relationship with the Min gang continues to get even more muddled.

Chapter word count: 18.3k

Warnings: discussion of crimes and murders, mentions of violence and gore (nothing too graphic, they're vaguely describing a murder scene), general anxiety? (our girl is NERVOUS in this one), Yoongi almost isn't in this chapter, start of reader x OC, gets suggestive at the end (it's not with Yoongi but he IS endgame, dw), also this chapter might be a bit slower and investigation and exposition heavy

Previous part | Series masterlist | Next part

A/N: unexpected sleepover kept me busy most of the weekend but here finally comes the second part of the chapter, i'm so excited for you to read the ending hehehe! let me know in the comments or through asks what you think, i'm curious to know your opinions! <3

The early summer heat was already hitting halfway through May, and as I sat in the station that was barely AC-ed, I suffered like a dog through the sudden and surprising rises of temperatures in between of bouts of rains.

Truthfully, looking out of the window, I wasn’t sure whether I’d rather be sitting here in a half empty dead office with barely anyone present (6 o’clock on a Friday afternoon usually not pulling much traffic around these parts) or sitting in full leather on my bike by some seedy club peeping at what Jungkook was doing this particular evening like a creep.

I wasn’t able to put much time into any extracurricular activities, the current task I’ve been made responsible of forced me to spend most of my time behind a desk, scrolling through endless police reports, paparazzi photos and news articles, taking names of cases and trying to find out what kind of people they were and who they were associated with. And after the hours and hours I’ve spent on this I was truly starting to get sick of it, almost missing the few days I spent watching a warehouse in the middle of the winter only to get trolled by Yoongi. Obviously, I wasn’t made for an office job.

With a sigh I finally gave up after trying to focus on the currently opened case on my table and dragged myself to a bistro on the corner. I’ve been drinking so much coffee these past few weeks I was on the verge of throwing up anytime I just saw a brown paper cup, but I soldiered through for the fresh batch of caffeine that would allow me to die a little slower and more painfully. And as I waited in the line, I dreaded returning to the station and continuing in what’s been my sole purpose in life for days upon days.

Still not being able to move anywhere with Jungkook kind of haunted me, it stayed at the back of my mind practically every day, just calling me to go out there and do something. But I couldn’t exactly spend the whole night chasing shadows when I had to show up to work at 7 am. Sometimes I would wonder what Yoongi thought about my sudden absence, whether he was trying to uncover some mastermind psychological warfare plan while I was really just too busy to do anything other than sit in that damn building and sleep, but admittedly it did always put a little smile on my face imagining him being silly over why I’m not following his every step like before.

Occasionally I would tag along with the team for additional interviews and questionings, stand behind Minjoon and listen and absorb their strategies. Unfortunately, all the people we talked to, all the witnesses who were mostly workers from around the warehouse, they knew very well to keep their mouth shut about anything illegal. In the end we couldn’t get more out of them than them hearing shots and calling the police. Nobody saw anything and heard nothing beyond that, as it seemed.

But we knew we were going to hit the wall here, no one in their right mind would snitch like this, especially if this truly was the Min gang. For all the neutral demeanour and suave charismatic energy, people were still terrified of Yoongi. No matter the image he had right now, no matter how much he tried to situate himself as a businessman unconcerned with the underworld, everybody still remembered how he came up, how much violence it took for him to take his place, how much blood was spilt and continued to be spilt any time someone went against him. You didn’t act up against a man like that.

And given the fact the Kims were somehow involved as well, it was double the risk. A single word could cost you your life, no matter which side the hit came from.

That only left us with carefully dissecting the lives of the victims, trying to find out how they got there and who they messed with to end up massacred on a floor of a run-down warehouse in Incheon, which was a feat in and of itself, but Minjoon and Seungcheol worked on that diligently. I sometimes met him just as he was about to leave to presumably go question someone about them, but I haven’t heard much from them yet. So lately we were all mostly stuck behind our computers.

I shook my head at nothing in particular and with one last sigh I picked myself up and went back to the station coffee in hand, resigning myself to another few hours of ruining my eyesight and back at that stupid little cramped desk. These past two weeks really made me realise just how on each other we were in that little space, and how Park sat comfortably in his office doing god knows what.

When I arrived back, I was shocked to see Minjoon suddenly back sitting by his own desk submerged deep into whatever it was he was looking at. He barely even registered my entrance, and I deliberated on going up to him or going back to my own desk to not disrupt him, but in the end decided to procrastinate just a while longer.

Minjoon looked up as soon as he heard footsteps approaching and we exchanged friendly but tired smiles while he pulled out a chair next to him for me to sit at.

“Doing overtime too, I see,” he greeted me with, eyes once again glued to the monitor. I looked over his shoulder to see him reading up on a report of a crime from two years ago. The name was very familiar to me after all these days. It was one of the guys from the warehouse.

“You going over what Park Doyun was involved in again?” I jumped straight into reading the report alongside with him. It was an armed robbery from two years ago, but due to a mess up in the prosecution they were acquitted on some obscure technicality. It was honestly a huge embarrassment, because there was some good evidence, but it all went down the drain. It was the first thing that really smacked us in the face once we put the guys through the police database, because everyone was talking about it around the precinct and Minjoon immediately made the connection.

“Yeah, supposedly there was a third accomplice, but I can’t find any mention of anyone else being involved,” Minjoon muttered somewhat dejectedly, the exhaustion showing through his expression and posture. I patted him on the shoulder, trying to bring his spirits up while I was just as sick of this as he was. He only shot me a grateful smile over his shoulder and went back into the report.

The Police Academy truly doesn’t prepare you for the hours and hours of just pure research and paperwork, what a lie.

“Is that what one of the people in the neighbourhood told you?” I queried some more, desperate to distract myself from my own tasks long enough to gain some strength to go back to it. Minjoon hummed absentmindedly, but in the end gave up as well and turned to me.

“Yeah, it was the most I could get from this one old lady sitting by a convenience store on his corner,” the detective said around a yawn, decompressing into the chair and letting the day just wash over him. It was obvious that whatever he was doing today was catching up to him, and it didn’t surprise me much given that he was gone for most of the afternoon.

“What do you got so far?” I leaned back on my chair as well and turned so that we were face to face, and we just lounged there for a moment smiling at each other cheekily, “About the whole thing.”

That got Minjoon sighing again, wiping his hand over his face. “Most is the usual stuff,” the man started, launching into another long monologue brought up by my questions, “out of the six victims, two grew up in the same neighbourhood down in Gojan-dong. You know, the same old – not the greatest families, poor backgrounds, started messing around the block and got into a lot of trouble. That’s where the reports start flying in. The other four are from around there as well, but not as close by.”

I sat on the information for a moment, as this was the first time I outright asked about the details. “So they’re all from Incheon anyway?” I ended up saying, and Minjoon only nodded.

“Two of them lived pretty close to each other, went to the same school, and they have that one record together,” he continued talking, “but you know how it gets. The people living around there only talk about how pitiful it is they fell off the good path, and if there is something more organised going on beneath, they either don’t know about it, don’t want to know about it or will never talk to a cop about it.”

“But we can be pretty sure they were already tight back then,” I hummed. Minjoon moved a little on his chair to get more comfortable. I saw his eyes jump to the time showcasing on his computer before he turned back to me and the conversation, and I was suddenly hit with the realisation that he most likely wanted to go home and I was keeping him here.

“Yeah, according to the teachers they were troublemakers and there was some violence happening on other students,” Minjoon expanded on that, “and one also mentioned a kid from a school on another block that they used to hang out with a lot that was also known for trouble, but she couldn’t remember his name. She wasn’t very surprised that they died in a gang affiliated murder though, according to her they were most probably dealing already back then between the peers.”

“That’s tough, that’s real tough. Surviving on the streets like that just gets you involved in all kinds of trouble” the empathetic words spilled from my mouth before I could really think twice about it and I panicked a little. I wasn’t sure how much the people around the unit knew about my childhood, but it definitely wasn’t something I wanted to discuss with any of them, even Minjoon. Some things were just better left in the past, especially since it’d probably make my colleagues dislike me more.

“Yeah, but the worst thing is that I just can’t get the name of that third kid,” Minjoon carried on completely submerged into his own world, “I showed her pictures of the other guys, but she didn’t recognise them. Then I was trying to choke some info from an old lady sitting by one of their addresses, but she only mentioned that there were three boys involved in that robbery but couldn’t remember the third one because he was from a nearby neighbourhood, just that these three were always together and didn’t do anything good.”

“And it’s not any of the other four guys?” I asked once more, just to make sure I didn’t miss anything. Minjoon shook his head and leaned back onto his chair, just watching me with tired but smiling eyes.

“But I think it’s a safe bet that these three must have stood at the beginning of everything, I just can’t get the name of the last kid,” Minjoon finished with a sigh, fingers subconsciously playing with the hem of his shirt, “I don’t know how they got into the big game or where the other dude is though.”

“Do you think there’s a possibility he escaped? That he’s alive somewhere but skipped cities or something to get away from the trouble?” I pondered out loud, as we both exchanged conspiratory glances, but Minjoon just shrugged.

“I mean, anything is possible in this game really,” the detective closed the conversation with a definitive nod of his head. I thought that was my cue to go back to my desk and let him leave, but he surprised me with turning the conversation around on me.

“What about the files? How are you doing?” he asked suddenly just as I was preparing to stand up and go. For a split second I looked at him surprised, and then relaxed into the chair again with a smile.

“Honestly, it’s such an annoying work,” I complained a little whinily, allowing myself to be a little more open with Minjoon, “I have to go through every little article, report and a picture on the internet concerning the victim. Some of them are normal working class people who worked around the docks or clubs, but some are wealthy bastards.” Minjoon chuckled at me, fingers drumming a calming beat into the table.

“Some have no ties to Yoongi at all apart from like eating at his restaurant once or staying at his hotel, but some I think are worth investigating into,” I went on, giving Minjoon the opportunity to just listen to me babble for once and not the other way around, “like some businessmen that have done deals with some of Yoongi’s shadow companies or were frequent visitors of his clubs, there was this one dude that was really closely related to some charity events Yoongi put on. I think it’s worth looking into those.”

Minjoon smiled at me brightly, his whole persona suddenly lighting up at hearing me talk about the case. He straightened up and leaned towards me, hand grabbing my shoulder in a gesture that has become very familiar to me coming from him to a point when I had to fight an embarrassed blush and a smile at the warmth and pride it filled me with.

“Good job, Y/N, good job,” he said earnestly, eyes looking straight into mine until the direct contact got a little too intense and I dodged it, “I knew I could count on you with this.” This time I really did blush, an intense feeling of vindication filling me at finally having someone recognise the work I was putting into this case. I mumbled my thanks to him, too overwhelmed to even look up, but I felt his hand squeeze my shoulder in answer before he retracted it back.

“I put them into different groups,” I jumped back into the explanation to escape the atmosphere change, “the ones that are inconclusive when it comes to gang involvement, the ones that are mostly low-tier workers around the gang affiliated hotspots and the big wigs that died under strange circumstances and most likely were closely related to Yoongi’s business in one way or the other.”

I didn’t even realise I had naturally switched into calling him Yoongi even in front of Minjoon, but thankfully he either didn’t notice or didn’t think it strange. Once I clocked it though, I promised myself to make sure to never make the same mistake in front of Hwang or Park, who I didn’t want to risk questioning me about it. Was I paranoid? Maybe, but I had a good reason for it with my track record.

“Have you looked through all of them?” came Minjoon’s question after a few moments of silence and I startled minutely before shaking my head in response.

“Not yet, I’ve got like a case and a half left,” I answered him truthfully, the distaste over having to go back to my desk and keep researching this file still rotting on my table resurfacing and souring my mood. I had managed to forget I’d still need to return to it once Minjoon left and it had me slumping into my chair.

The man must have noticed my change in mood, since he gave me a small encouraging smile and then leaned towards me somewhat conspiratorially before lightly enquiring “you wanna get out of here and grab something for dinner?”. I visibly relaxed at the offered out and nodded enthusiastically basically before he even finished speaking, making him laugh heartily.

In one swift movement he was standing on his feet offering me his hand. I took it gingerly and let him haul me up, the feelings of guilt that have been eating me away for not dedicating more of my time to the task soothed by Minjoon’s approval of ditching work.

It didn’t take us long to turn off computers and collect our belongings before we both headed out into the still incredibly hot air of the parking lot in front of the station. He must have been just as excited to leave as me, with how gingerly he led us out and towards his car, only stopping when I lightly grabbed his arm. The officer turned his whole body to me, surprise and confusion written over his face at my sheepish expression. I gestured towards the other side of the parking lot where a solitary dark car stood parked.

“I’m here by car as well, we could go to the restaurant down the street so we can both leave by car?” I suggested and Minjoon as quickly brightened up and agreed.

Thus we found ourselves sitting over our respective bowls of kimchi jjigae just a few minutes later. This was a known spot for us, as they fed most of the police force from our station with the homely family run restaurant located only three minutes by foot away from our office. When we walk in, the kind middle-aged lady running it already greets us by our names and knows our tastes by heart. It was such a nice feeling to have a place like that, I had to admit that.

We both must have been pretty hungry, because for the first half none of us even spoke, too focused on our bowls and stuffing our faces like a pair of vultures. Once the dust settled and we were handing the empty dishes back to the smiling woman, we found ourselves once again just looking at each other not knowing how to start up a conversation. After few moments of awkward silence, Minjoon decided to break the ice.

“You mentioned you sorted the cases into three groups, right?” he started off the subject of our work again, waiting for me to nod and then continuing, “Once you get through them all, you should pull out the other cases we have connected to Yoongi and look through them again with the new ones in mind. There might have been things lost or not noticed.”

The feeling of disappointment that hit me was almost palpable in the air, and I felt my expression freezing into an awkward smile trying to not let it show outwardly. I didn’t want to anger Minjoon or make him feel bad about this, and I did realise I was a total newbie to the unit and a newbie to this particular investigation, but I would lie if I said it didn’t hurt that I seemed to be eternally stuck behind the computer while the others actually did all the investigating.

Minjoon still must have felt my lack of enthusiasm, even though I tried to show my agreement as happily as I could muster, and he hit me with another sheepish apologetic smile.

“I know what you’re thinking,” the man begun, hands on instinct raising as if trying to console me, “but this could be your own thing, you know? It would be your call and your own investigation. We could also ask the violent crime team to help you out with questionings.” Now, that did sound marginally better, and I found myself swaying. I mean, I really didn’t have much choice, I would still agree even if I was truly just a glorified secretary to them, otherwise I’d be booted of the team quicker than I could say ‘fuck you’. But like this, it at least didn’t feel like a complete lost.

“So, once I went through the cases, I’d have free range and I could try to investigate and close some of them?” I made sure before I truly consented to anything, and when Minjoon nodded and agreed, I relaxed a little bit.

“Okay then,” finally I accepted, “I’ll look through the old cases too.” That seemed to make him very happy, and he made sure to smile at me brightly and shower me in gratitude and praises, but I couldn’t really help the sinking feeling at imagining myself going through more cold cases. At least there was a clear end to that in sight with these.

After that the conversation shifted slightly to lighter topics and Minjoon ended up telling me some funny stories about our colleagues’ mishaps at work. I laughed at them heartily while feeling this strange rift between us deepen even more, realising more than ever that I was truly a stranger in this unit full of people who actually somewhat liked each other.

I promised myself that this time next year, I will be sitting here with the whole unit and be a part of those fun stories as well.

Later in the evening, as we walked leisurely back to our cars after finishing up at the food joint, Minjoon suddenly seemed a little more hesitant and withdrawn. At first I saw it as a reluctance to part after a nicely spent evening, but soon I came to realise that there was something he wasn’t sure how to tell me. I could see it written all over his guilty unsure face, mouth opening for a moment without words coming out and then shutting again. I waited patiently for him to gather his courage, until the man finally broke the suddenly awkward silence.

“So, we were making some plans with the team,” Minjoon opened hesitantly and immediately I felt a shot to my heart knowing I wasn’t a part of whatever discussion they were having as a team, but I kept my mouth shut. I only hummed in response, encouraging him to go on.

“Well, next Friday we’re going to speak to Ms. Kim,” he finally got out, and I froze a little, “I just felt that a heads up was needed for that particular encounter." And I wasn’t going to lie, there was a little bit of panic that seized me at the mention of her name.

Miss Kim, alias Kim Jiyu, alias the sister of the man currently in charge of Kim Enterprises and any other business the Kim family was running legal or not, was notoriously known in both the underworld and the law enforcement sphere as a very unpleasant and harsh woman that people only ever can have the displeasure of meeting. There was a lot of stories floating around about her, and most were extremely unflattering to her character. All kinds of adjectives were attached to her, from spoiled or mean all the way to downright cruel and heartless.

The meeting with her could mean only one thing – they were trying to get the meeting with the Mr. Kim himself, but as most people, couldn’t get through his sister first, as she acted as a wall between him and the rest of the world. Unless you came with a warrant, the chances of speaking to him alone or at all were very slim, most visitors got handled by Ms. Kim before they even made it through the receptionist.

I shuddered a little bit at the thought of meeting her and doing a questioning against her and the crimes her family was involved in. Allegedly. After this thing was over, I had to go to good old Jungkook and troll him a little over parking tickets to decompress from this whole ordeal.

I turned to Minjoon, taking in his worried face, and I put on my bravest expression, nodding with a gentle smile. We didn’t really speak after that again, both of us just processing the information that was traded throughout the whole evening.

When I got home, I was so exhausted I just wanted to crash into the bed and sleep for twelve hours but sleep just wouldn’t find me until the early hours of the morning, and I found myself lying there with closed eyes, brain overheating with everything that’s happened in the last 24 hours.

I nervously shimmied around, earning another judging stare from one of the maids and a warning shake of head from Minjoon, as we waited in the entrance hall to be accepted by the lady of the house.

When Minjoon mentioned going to interview Ms. Kim, I truly didn’t even begin to imagine we would go into her house. That morning pulling up in front of a huge modern mansion and getting greeted by a chauffeur and a gardener before I even made it halfway through the gate was truly a shock. I don’t know why I was expecting maybe an office or something, given the fact it was one of the richest residential parts of Seoul, but still.

As usual, my nervousness made it that I was there first, way before Sunmi or Minjoon got there, who were the two people assigned to this task, Hwang and Seungcheol trying their luck loitering around the office building where Mr. Kim must have been. It was a tactic that was already well known to me in our unit, fighting on two fronts and then exchanging found out info. In my mind I was transported months back, to the first time I was brought along, the “first time” I officially met Yoongi in the VIP lounge in Pied Piper and how I nervously sat in front of him while he laughed at me like my presence was the funniest thing that’s ever happened to him.

The feelings of unease and queasiness that thinking of Yoongi often brought along manifested themselves and I started sweating even harder, slowly gaining Minjoon’s worry as he looked me up and down. I shook my head to him very slightly, hoping it was seen as a comforting gesture and it wouldn’t make him hover over me in an attempt to shelter me or comfort me.

The silence in the hall stretched for several additional minutes and the three of us stood there awkwardly, scrutinised by every member of staff currently on standby. I felt the scolding gazes doubly, as I didn’t make much effort on the visual front, rocking up to one of the most expensive houses in the most expensive neighbourhood in my worn washed out jeans, a simple black tee and a breezy short-sleeved shirt with an aggressive flower print, hair styled in a way that was the most practical and needed the least amount of time to achieve and a face red and sweating both from the hot temperatures and the nerves, the look finished with a pair of old sneakers basically crying for help.

I couldn’t look more out of place in the pristine light green hall with sleek furniture and floors made from massive marble tiles and I felt properly as an outsider, both from the perspective of a kid growing up in an impoverished block and as a colleague that wasn’t properly informed about the details of the visit. Even Minjoon wore a nicer pair of jeans and a shirt, which he never did, and Sunmi looked as elegant as ever in her dress pants, light blouse and beautiful wavy hair let hanging loose around her shoulders. I swallowed my bitterness and regret at not checking up on the area first and not getting the chance to also dress accordingly. And avoiding looking like a beggar accidentally let in from the streets.

My train of thought was broken by the sound of approaching footsteps, the distinctive clacking of high heel shoes on the marble floors carrying to us all the way from deep inside the house, and I found myself almost letting out a breath of relief, as I would finally be able to escape this oppressive atmosphere and disappear somewhere into a corner of a room and just quietly make notes.

With each clack getting closer to us the tension in the air grew lightly, the forms of my colleagues also straightening out, hands last minute fidgeting around their clothes to gather courage and look as composed as we could. From what I understood, from the people present here only Sunmi had the pleasure of meeting our host before, and it was only twice. Not nearly enough for the initial instinctual apprehension to wear off. Therefore we were all probably experiencing similar levels of unease. Most probably. Hard to say, I was pretty strung up.

Finally, the form of a woman rounded the corner and materialised at the other end of a very long corridor, slowly inching towards us with the elegance and prowess of a hungry lion, her form slightly shimmering. At first I thought my eyes were watering or I was straight up hallucinating, but as she came closer I realised it was because she wore a silvery dress that reflected every light and surface around her.

She was taller than me, quite a bit (not a big feat honestly, I barely grew out of looking like an 8th grader) with a small, graceful face, each inch perfect and carefully maintained. Both her make-up and dress looked very sophisticated, showing clearly that she was a member of the higher class, with her beautiful dark hair pulled into a tight intricate bun at the back of her head. She was absolutely stunning and, to be honest, for a moment I got a little starstruck. It felt like meeting a movie star or a celebrity, she had that aura around her, and for a few seconds I completely forgot why we were there and almost started asking for an autograph and a detailed explanation of her beauty routine.

That all shattered the moment she finally reached us though, as her impassive face suddenly broke into a cruel smirk, venom taking over her dark eyes and she scoffed, looking us over like we were pests about to be exterminated. Before even giving us a chance to introduce ourselves, or really say anything, her focus shifted to Sunmi, gaze burning her down intensely.

“I thought we were over this, detective,” she said in a strong voice, sounding just as annoyed as mean, “There’s no need for you to come over and ask your silly little questions. I told you everything you need to know.” I saw the moment Sunmi steeled herself, eyes hardening, readying to play her part of an unshakable detective. And damn, did she do a great job.

“Please Ms. Kim,” she retorted, her body relaxing a little as she adopted a posture to counter the other woman’s stiff elegant figure, “You know I’ll never have enough of asking you silly questions. Just let us bother you for fifteen minutes and then we don’t have to see each other again for a few months.” There was a little impish grin tugging on her lips and I could notice our hostess was starting to get a little bothered by that, her annoyance slowly running through the roof. I watched on with bated breath, both me and Minjoon just hanging back quietly, taken aback by the sudden change in the air.

Ms. Kim’s face turned into a bitter grimace, the disgust obvious in the downturn of her mouth as she stepped aside and gestured down the long hallway she herself came from.

“Fine, you got fifteen minutes, after that I’m not entertaining any other visits unless you have an arrest warrant,” she bit out almost in a bark, before she turned around without waiting and stomped her way back inside the house. We all scrambled to follow her, suddenly thrust into action after just weirdly hanging about for such a long time. Sunmi took the lead, confidently striding after her, but as she passed me I could hear her releasing a huge puff of air as she steadied herself to carry on.

I gazed after her, taking in her stoney face and confident posture, my respect towards the female detective immediately skyrocketing. If Minjoon told me I was looking at her with hearts in my eyes, I would totally believe him. I liked to pretend I looked similar while dealing with Yoongi, but Sunmi clearly perfected the pest bratty power play that just drove these types up the wall, and I hoped I would be able to learn from her before we all had to go our separate ways again. I’m sure the Min gang would infinitely appreciate it. Especially the maknae.

Miss Kim led us only halfway through the corridor before she disappeared into a room on the right, and like ducklings we all followed inside. Minjoon came through last, but immediately went for the chairs, so I took it upon myself to close the door. When I turned, I was the last one to take the room in. It was quite a standard home office space, with a dark desk dominating the space, some shelves with books and decorations, and of course, the two chairs waiting for visitors to be scrutinised from the high table.

Not wanting to pull much attention to myself, I quickly hurried into the left corner where a lone small armchair stood, sitting myself there. I was already pretty much invisible to them as they sized each other up.

Just as before, Miss Kim didn’t seem overly interested in getting our names, getting straight to business without any preamble.

“I cannot imagine what else you’d like to hear from me, Miss Lee,” her piercing voice sounded through the room, taking on a slight whining voice. I jerked slightly in my chair, head immediately flying up to look at the woman before I realised that me and Sunmi shared a surname and she was talking to her, not me. The relief that flooded me at not having to face her yet was quite mortifying, so I just focused on fiddling with my notepad and pen, waiting for something worthy of being written down.

“A multiple homicide took place on your front lawn, of course we’d be interested in getting your perspective as much as we can,” Sunmi replied to her matter-of-factly, holding her own in the intense power battle that was currently taking place between their gazes.

“On my front lawn? That’s news to me,” Miss Kim leaned back into her chair, throwing her arms into the air, “That’s not our warehouse. The Kim Enterprises don’t own it.”

“Cut the shit, that’s your turf. You want to tell me that someone was murdered on your turf, and you don’t have even the slightest idea? Not even if Mins were involved?” Sunmi snapped back immediately and even I was surprised for a split second before I schooled my expression and watched the two of them attentively.

Miss Kim seemed hardly surprised, she didn’t even blink at Sunmi’s approach, just sat there and stared at her blankly with not even a single hair out of place. Then she smirked lightly, fingers drumming a quick rhythm into the desk.

“I have no idea what Mr. Min is doing, but I can assure you he’s doing it far away from me,” she said diplomatically, “We’re not exactly the bestest of friends.” There was a tense venomous smile on her face and I fought back the scoff. That was some understatement. But she was really good at acting as if her whole clan didn’t almost lose their lives to Yoongi’s six after actively trying to sabotage him several times.

But guess they must have gotten a little mercy from him since most of the conflicts happened while the old Kim, her father, was still in power. Since he has died and his son took over, the relationship between the two powerhouses was still considerably strained, but also much calmer.

There was a moment of silence, Minjoon quietly looing to Sunmi whether she wanted to keep going and when she didn’t stop him, he cleared his throat and turned his full attention to the woman behind the desk.

“It might not be your warehouse, but we know the area is pretty much under your rule,” he said seemingly amicably, a stark difference to Sunmi’s irate approach, “We don’t care about any other stuff that’s happening there. We don’t care about drugs or smuggling right now, this is a murder case.”

To that the woman smirked and rolled her eyes. “So what? If I give you information, you’ll overlook anything else that might be going on? You want me to be a snitch?” she drawled out, clearly mocking us all, then threw her hands out into the air, “Not my warehouse, not my problem. Why would I know what’s going on in a house that doesn’t belong to me?” The answer was pretty clear, to be honest. Even as someone from a rival gang, if she knew something she wouldn’t cooperate with the police. The retaliation would be merciless if Yoongi found out. And he always did.

“Anything you say will be recorded as an anonymous tip, it will only push us in the right direction,” Minjoon told her, in what was supposed to be a comforting manner, but his voice was too hard and matter-of-fact to be friendly. The elegantly dressed woman’s eyes jumped from the two with a slyness that left a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. In that moment she looked more like a viper about to strike than an heiress to a huge successful family. An ugly smirk curled around her lips and her face took on a certain savageness, suddenly she looked nothing like the graceful lady that greeted us in the foyer.

“Well, detective,” she started in another drawl, now her voice pitching more towards an almost playful hostility, like she was trying to make herself seem less lethal than she truly was, “all I can say is that they were drug dealers. Which is something you already know. So you probably have to ask… why did they lose their lives because of it? Hmmmm, I wonder… wonder who and where does drug deals that has the reputation of killing anyone that just looks at him bad…” She ended that whole spiel with a sharp grin, and promptly stood up and in a grand gesture flicked her wrist towards the door.

“I didn’t really expect that I would have to do the police’s job for them, should have fucking gone to the academy,” she hissed out in a snarl, “Now get the fuck out of my house and don’t bother me again about bullshit that doesn’t concern me.”

The two detectives didn’t seem to be bothered by her words or sudden turn in mood at all, instead they both stood up almost coordinated and without a single word or a glance back turned to leave the room. I scrambled to follow them, the whole thing replaying in my mind as I absent mindedly smacked about the door to catch the handle. The split second I turned to see where it was, I caught Miss Kim’s eye for the first time that evening. Hers were sharp, face a hard grimace of uncaringness and cruelty. She smirked at me in a mocking way, like she would at an insect right before she crushed in under her heel, her pride and ego clearly displayed like trophies in her arrogant stance and upturned head. I shuddered lightly and decided to leave the door be, breaking into a light jog to catch up to my colleagues much to judging looks of the servants. I didn’t care much, I just wanted to be out of there.

Once back on the street, a weighted silence stretched between us as we marinated on what we were told. Really, these interviews always felt so short and so little information would come from them, and then you’d look at the clock and find out it’s been thirty or forty minutes spend just turning in circles. This was one of them.

“Of course we know the drug deal is an important aspect of the case,” Minjoon suddenly bit out, peeved as the last comment clearly got him, “A group of drug dealers doesn’t just get murdered by accident. But Yoongi is self-sufficient, he has ties across the sea to Japan, he doesn’t do deals with small in-Seoul gangs.” We both looked at him, trying to ignore his petulant outburst, trying to be empathising because all of our emotions ran a little wild at the moment. I looked to Sunmi, studying her calm face that was in contrast to her hand tapping her thigh in a quick rhythm, her mind working fast to slot everything together and re-evaluate what we found out till now.

“Well, then the reason must be there,” I voiced out unsurely, getting nervous when their gazes turned to me, “If what she’s insinuating is that they were doing a deal with Yoongi and got killed, then we gotta find out why. If he normally doesn’t do that, then why now?” Sunmi nodded at my words, eyes squinted both against the sun and in thought, mulling over it.

“Yeah, that’s really the only way I see here too,” she stated finally, voice carrying strong, “We were working with theories that they maybe provoked him or split from him and stole some of his cargo, maybe tried to push his turf somewhere, the usual reasons for this brutal of a punishment, but maybe we should explore the option that they were actually partners. Maybe they scammed him with goods, that could get you murdered in this business.”

I pursed my lips tightly, keeping a neutral face to reign in my surprise, as most of those things she said were total news to me. I had known they were looking into their past and that they were drug dealers, that they missed one guy and maybe he got away. Nothing of what she said actually made it to me, and I had to stand there and pretend like I knew what she was talking about. I mean, I wasn’t dumb, these were the usual reasons for murder between gangs, but it would have been nice if someone actually told me we were looking into these options.

I swallowed my bitterness down and kept my eyes trained on Sunmi, nodding along. I didn’t want my negative experience with my team and unit to tamper down the respect that was quickly growing in me towards her, the detective has in the short period of time I’ve known her become something of a model for me, and I knew that it wasn’t her responsibility to keep me updated since she was from a different unit. No, this transgression was on the side of my own colleagues, so I stubbornly kept my eyes from straying towards the officer in question, who was nervously shuffling next to her.

I let out a tired sigh, the disappointment was so constant with them that I barely even found it in me to be properly annoyed, just felt resignation bleed into me slowly. I knew that I would most likely just keep getting fucked over like this, but still, I stubbornly and selfishly wasn’t prepared to give up just yet, and it hurt. But really, what other option did I have.

“We should get back to the station,” I piped in, cutting short the conversation that started up between them while I was spacing out, and I felt Minjoon’s guilty gaze on me, “Get the info to the others and re-evaluate.” Sunmi once again nodded, patting my shoulder and giving me a friendly smile.

“You’re here by car, right? We could definitely squeeze you in if you need a ride,” she offered easily, and I found myself genuinely smiling back. I thanked her and pointed towards my own vehicle, and she patted my shoulder some more, a little more awkwardly, and made her way to her own. Minjoon lingered behind a little, but whatever he wanted to tell me, we didn’t have time for it anyway, so I shot him a polite smile and went my way too.

The day went by surprisingly fast, considering I didn’t speak much for the rest of it, the earlier realisation weighing heavy on me. The briefing was pretty short, with mostly Sunmi making sure the other two detectives were caught up. They split their duties quickly too. Minjoon and Seungcheol were supposed to keep looking into the mysterious third accomplice while Sunmi and Hwang would start looking more sharply into their mob ties, hoping to somehow trace them to Yoongi if they scrutinised them hard enough. I sat there and watched them awkwardly, until Minjoon turned to me and somewhat sheepishly asked whether I wanted to share my findings. So I did.

I recapped to them everything I said to Minjoon a few days earlier before he stepped in and informed the others I agreed to go through the older cases as well and would try to build a new bigger case. I gulped down my own simmering anger, that was admittedly dwindling down with every hit I took from them, and smiled, nodded, agreed. Minjoon kept glancing towards me as if he wanted to say something more, but I ignored it for the moment. Now was not the time. He asked the other team if they would volunteer to have someone tag along with me. Seungcheol agreed. I shook his hand and thanked him. In my head I clung to the promise Minjoon made me, that this would be my own big case, and kept myself in check.

By the evening, I was finally wrapping up with the original task, a huge boulder falling off of my shoulders and then promptly building back up when I curiously checked how many files I would have to pull up come Monday. It was a lot. I did catch myself just sitting at my tiny desk kneading my face in my hands, smushing my features all together and then pulling them again, as my eyes focused and unfocused on the computer screen.

And that’s how Minjoon found me too. He walked up to me quietly, and at first I didn’t even notice him through the existential crisis I was going through, but soon his hip moved into my field of vision and I jerked back, embarrassed at my antics. Minjoon still looked just as apologetic as that morning, and I couldn’t even be annoyed with him after the day I had.

“Dinner?” he asked quietly, unsure of whether I would want to go with him or not. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but instead I just nodded tiredly, pushing the files under the desk and turning off the computer. I was done, done for the day and done with working on this, so I just wordlessly stood up and glanced around. Just like last week we were the last ones around, even Park already long gone from his office where he basically camped out.

Minjoon waited for me patiently, as I gathered my belongings and then just walked out without looking back. We ended up at the same restaurant, ordering the same thing, the lady behind the counter giving us winks and mischievous smiles while I tried my hardest to push the flustered part of myself as deep as possible. That was the last thing I needed, really.

Minjoon launched into his apology as soon as we sat down, stating how tired and overworked he was and pleaded for me to forgive him just this once for forgetting to forward the information to me. How it just slipped his mind and how Hwang just plainly refused to have to keep running to me with every new little thing and always left it to him and he was just so busy. I sat there staring blankly, not even really in the mood to pretend it was fine like I usually would for the man, and he stewed under my intense gaze, stuttering to find a way to make it up to me.

I wanted to be spiteful, wanted to tell him just how tired I was as well, how if they even invited me to these meetings in the first place, we wouldn’t have this problem, but failed to find the reason why I should bother.

“Then how about this? I have an offer to make,” Minjoon said suddenly after a few minutes of awkward small talk, a mischievous smile slowly stretching on his face. I perked up at the sudden change in mood and curiously nodded at him to continue. “I always have the time to tell you everything when we eat here and I can relax at the same time, so it’s pretty obvious you should keep coming to these dinners with me. Just for the work’s sake of course,” the man suggested slyly, eyes colouring with mirth and something else, something a little darker and sweeter. That insufferable flirt.

That time I did blush full force as soon as the meaning of those words hit me, ducking my head shyly as the negative emotions dissolved confusedly into something a little more excited and jittery deep inside my chest, the anger forgotten under the sudden attention. I found myself nodding and Minjoon rewarded me with such a blinding smile it made everything worth it, all the work and the bitterness long pushed from my mind.

That evening, there was plenty more conversation, none of it about murders or crime which was a refreshing change for both of us, and we both seized the opportunity to actually mention anything that didn’t have any tie to Yoongi, who seemed to have become a constant in my life. For a first time in a really long time I laughed freely with another person, nothing holding me back from the amusement and nothing weighing heavy on my mind.

When I made my way home that evening, the hopeful joy making itself known in my heart seemingly erased all the negativity of the day, of the week, of the month. The only thought that fought its way through was the flash of Yoongi in my mind as I passed the street that would eventually lead me to Pied Piper.

I turned my head straight and drove on.

The days quickly bled into weeks, into a month, until I was sweating my ass off in the office towards the end of May, the sudden heatwave hitting right after a week of storms and rains. The heat always seemed to get even more exaggerated inside the building, something about it just had to be cursed. And with how old and rundown the station really was, hoping for a working AC soon turned into a fruitless endeavour.

I spent the month the same way I spent the month before that, buried neck deep in old cold cases that never saw enough evidence or attention, cross-referencing every little thing down to wearing the same-coloured socks. Similarities started quickly adding up, and by the time I opened the 20th case I could confidently say whether it was truly a Min murder or not. I even had bets going on which one were Jungkook’s and which ones were Hoseok’s. There were even few that I suspected belonged to the Kims, but it wasn’t a theory I felt was strong enough to actually present to others. I had become something of an expert on violence.

Truly, throughout the cases, there were few names that kept repeating – names of companies that could be traced back to Yoongi’s umbrella corporation, names of middlemen that were known to hang about him, names from other cases. They all tied together a nice picture of shady business and in the middle of it all sat Yoongi, like the devil himself.

I was able to painstakingly trace some of the new cases to the older ones, fully incorporating them into the agenda after confirming truly that they were most likely victims of bad deals and finicky power dynamics. Then came the gut punch – the man that was linked to most of those cases, Moon Jiwoo, the middleman whose sole occupation seemed to be to link up wealthy influential men with Yoongi, has gone and turned into a cold case himself. This time a missing person.

Damn you, Jung Hoseok, ruining all my fun.

But obviously this was something worth looking into, given the fact that he was “taken care of” as well. So I started rearranging the files into different groups and sub-groups once again, making a pile that was directly connected to Moon Jiwoo, then a pile of cases that was linked to the victims in the first pile and then seemingly unconnected cases that were still most probably carried out by the Min gang. Thus I ended up with thirteen cases – seven that were connected to the middleman, the middleman case itself and five that had a link to the main seven. Ten more cases sat on the side, for now looking rather random, but maybe I would come to find out that they fell into the intricate web of murders I was currently looking at.

These lucky thirteen mostly had quite peculiar history of travelling between units until they ended up here. Some started off as missing persons cases until a body was found, death undetermined or suspicious enough to have the violent crimes look it over, some were first classified as an accident until someone from ours found it and pulled it over to organised crime. There were two cases that made it straight to us as soon as they were reported – the missing Moon Jiwoo, a known associate, and a dock worker that was employed by an affiliated company. Unfortunately, it was much easier to make a poor man working in the docks disappear than a filthy rich magnate, so those few cases that made it to us were mostly thin and under-investigated.

Stepping into this task, I have to admit that at first I was quite surprised that someone as infamously known for being a dangerous silent killer that almost never leaves any evidence as Hoseok had left this many cases for us to look into, but once I started properly going through them I realised that there was a stone wall at every turn and most of these cases went completely cold only a few weeks after happening. And considering it was a pure stroke of luck that even brought them to us, the chance that they would have been eventually completely forgotten was extremely high. I had to give it to him, he was extremely efficient, enough to make me progressively more annoyed every time I hit a dead end, cursing him in my mind four times a day. And I shuddered to think about the number of cases that never made it to us or that didn’t even get reported.

But now at least I had a firm idea of what would have to be investigated more thoroughly and which avenues I would look into. You bet that I was gathering those thirteen files to bring them home and put them on the map wall, silently sighing at the image of the macabre décor in my own bedroom. It was truly unfortunate it was the best room for it in my tiny tiny apartment, but sadly I was getting used to it by now. So much for calming relaxing mornings.

A cup of coffee landed on my desk and I jumped in fright, realising I had been just emptily staring at my computer screen as I went over everything I would have to do at home during the weekend and my plan starting Monday. I looked up with cheeks coloured by embarrassment, catching Cheol’s amused expression before he tipped an imaginary hat in my direction.

“Howdy, partner,” he drawled out and took a sip of his own coffee, leaning back onto a neighbouring desk and making himself as comfortable as he possibly could with the sharp edge digging into him. I chuckled at him and tipped my head in return.

“Howdy,” slipped out of my mouth easily, “thanks for the coffee.” He only smiled as a response and then nodded towards the computer and the mess of files everywhere.

“How’s it looking?” the detective asked. I sent him a faux annoyed looked, but there was a smile tugging on my lips. In the past few weeks Cheol made it his mission to check up on me regularly. He’d usually come with a cup of either coffee or tea and start asking about my progress. Since he had volunteered to be my partner in this, I understood his reasoning, but the first few times I found myself quite annoyed by his incessant questioning. Until I realised he was doing it on purpose and was just pulling my leg. After that I was able to relax and see the interaction for what it really was – an attempt to build some comradery, not an effort to press and humiliate me.

I found out he was actually pretty easy-going, he had a sense of stability and strength around him and yet still managed to be an absolute goofball, which helped me feel less nervous and I even started catching onto some of his jokes. I liked hanging out with him and I already trusted him as a teammate despite the fact that we hadn’t even gone out to the field together.

“Same as yesterday,” I told him finally, pretending to be annoyed with him, “Monday big briefing, then we can kick off.” My voice turned serious in the second half, conveying that it truly was an information he needed to keep in mind.

“Okay, I’ll be there,” he responded to just as seriously, only a small smile on his face as I nodded at him and then gestured to the mountains of files. “In the meantime I’ll have fun organising this for you, so you better not be ungrateful,” I joked right back at him, “I am not above abusing my power.” That got an amused chuckle out of him.

“Sure thing, rookie,” his voice turned slightly jokingly exaggerated, but I heard the genuineness in it, which pulled an honest grin out of me, “we’ll see about that on Monday.” With that he pushed himself off the table and started walking off somewhere, only waving around the cup in lieu of a goodbye.

On his way out, presumably back to his own unit, he passed Minjoon’s table, and I caught the man’s eye as I watched Cheol dramatically take his leave. Immediately I felt a blush spreading and I ducked my head back between the files quickly. There was a slight grin on his face witnessing my reaction, and I chastised myself to behave while at work. We weren’t highschoolers anymore and I could get in serious trouble sending puppy eyes to my colleague. If somebody caught wind of that, they’d disrespect me even more, it would become absolute hell here and I couldn’t afford to make the atmosphere even more hostile when I was barely making it now.

True to his word, Minjoon took me to the little restaurant by the office once or twice a week to eat and gave me the whole rundown of the other team’s plans and findings to keep me updated on everything going on. He would relay everything to me with care, making sure I wasn’t left out and that he wouldn’t have to awkwardly fill me in under Hwang’s hateful eyes. But we would always end up talking about everything and anything, and soon I started anticipating our dinners not because of the information, but because as soon as that was told, we would start chatting and laughing.

One moment I’d be asking about the next step against Yoongi and the next we were trading stories about the most embarrassing things we’ve done in high school or our favourite childhood spots to play in. Minjoon talked a lot about his family, about his older brothers and parents, and while I tried to avoid that topic as much as possible, I ended up also sharing some childhood stories without many details.

Honestly, those evenings became my favourite moments. The weeks and the work were both so hectic lately and I found myself swamped with cases, searching for the tiniest details, and more often than not I was going home totally exhausted with red raw eyes and a migraine that just wouldn’t leave no matter what I did. I almost perfected sleeping in a way that didn’t aggravate my headache to a point I almost threw up (I did throw up once, after I came home and almost passed out not realising I didn’t really eat anything the whole day).

The moments I spent with Minjoon were a beautiful escape, a few hours a week I forgot completely about my responsibilities and didn’t care about murders and gang activity, and only sat back and traded jokes and bashful flirts. We both have long since stopped pretending we weren’t interested in each other, and it made those encounters even more exhilarating as we danced around the attraction with careful teasing smiles and soft flirting. I was still very much nervous about the unit catching on and realising what’s going on, but Minjoon’s warm presence in my life slowly erased those fears and made me more open to the possibility. The last few meetings toed the line of propriety with more ways than one, flirtation straying further than before and Minjoon’s insistence he drives me home leaving us in a few tense charged moments by my door.

It was exciting and terrifying, but I liked the officer. He’d been the only one that went out of his way to actually accept me and treat me as a human, he helped me and pushed me through to give me opportunities to prove myself to others and he continuously cared about my well-being. I liked spending my evenings with him, he was charming and kind and we both seemed very compatible.

The only problem that stood between us and made us both hesitant to cross a line further than friendly dinners was the fact that we were not only coworkers, but team members. That left us awkwardly trying to navigate the sudden tension that arose between us without giving away how close we were getting. Honestly, every day I was nervous that Sunmi or Seungcheol would look at us and see, like it was written all over my face that I was starting to like Minjoon from a wholly unprofessional standpoint.

It was like there was a huge ticking clock hanging over my head just waiting for a disaster to happen, but it didn’t stop me from looking forward to the Friday evening every week. And Minjoon seemed to be in the same boat. But as long as we didn’t cross over to uncharted territory, we were fine.

Thus, we both just sat there in the office and exchanged timid grins, making sure no one saw us making eye contact, like we were two criminals fleeing from the law.

I tried to focus back onto my monitor, but I was absolutely fried. It was still noon, but the whole weight of the last two months just hit me and I was fighting to stay awake, knowing I was done with one of the most annoying boring tasks I’ve ever had to deal with and that from Monday I’ll be even more busy.

There was both panic and excitement coursing through me at what was waiting for me, all the possibilities from actually doing some real investigating and solving cold cases to finally having the chance to put my energy into something productive and not only sneak around Seoul at the ass crack of dawn hoping to catch a sight of a serial killer working for the most annoying man in the existence.

Finally I’d have a chance. And that was just as scary. It felt like I had twice as much to lose, given the fact I was barely tolerated now. I had everything to gain, but everything to lose. If I failed this, if I messed up or got us into trouble, it’d be the end of me on this precinct. Not successfully closing at least one of these cases wasn’t an option, I had to yield results.

For the nth time that day I tried blinking away the tiredness from my eyes and the early onset of another migraine, but as soon as it started being hard to focus through the pain, I decided it was time to give up on trying to achieve anything today.

Already having great experience with gathering my things to leave as fast as possible, I was ready to leave within five minutes of deciding to go home, the relief coursing through my veins like ice cream on a hot day. And it was a very hot today.

Still, I stopped by Minjoon’s desk, surprising him for a moment before he gave a confused smile, the question marks reflected in his eyes without him even having to ask anything. I grinned at him wildly, no doubt looking slightly insane from this angle of him looking up at me.

“You said that you haven’t questioned Yoongi yet, right?” I enquired out of nowhere, confusing him even more as he fully turned to me, and I could see him trying to figure me out. Then he slowly nodded.

“Yeah,” he drawled out, “we decided to go into offensive and start pushing him, so we’ll start questionings in the following weeks.” I nodded quickly, shooting him a rushed smile before I made my way out into the hot noon air and blasting sun, leaving supremely more confused Minjoon behind, not even giving him a chance to really say goodbye.

There’s been a thought playing around in my mind for a few days now. Was it finally time to go see Yoongi again? Now seemed to be the best time to make my grand return, remind them of my existence and cut the suspense. The team was already planning to go talk to him anyway, come June they’ll be hot on his tail, back to their strategy of annoying him. It would be kind of a sweet little treat to find out how much he knows, whether it already made it back to him and he was onto us or whether he was still blissfully unaware of what we were investigating. I was slightly embarrassed by the amount of excitement that flowed through me at the prospect of teasing the man again, of hearing his remarks, now that I fully had a leg up (though the last time I thought that it went spectacularly wrong).

I wanted to try to throw him off his high horse. To unnerve him, in the same way he always did to me. To return the favour of always finding a way to get under my skin and make me mad. I wanted that. I wanted him to know that I would be getting him behind those bars, just as I promised two months ago in The Rose.

Waiting until the evening seemed almost impossible, not even my own exhaustion that tried to lure me into hours long nap could distract me from the slowly ticking clock, and I was restless the whole day. Sitting around, staring off into space, always wanting to pick something up, some chore or an easy task, but unable to focus on anything except for whether it would be better to catch him still in the office or make a grand entrance to the Pied Piper, where he should be today.

And pulling up to said club twenty minutes after 7pm, I did pray that he was there, as I immediately recognised those same bouncers and desperately wished there wouldn’t be a repeat of that whole situation. Though, if I did manage to cockblock Yoongi twice, that would definitely put a smile on my face, that’s how petty we were getting here.

But that hardly mattered, not when I walked up to them and before I could even get a single word out of me, a mean glint present in my eyes to let them know I remembered them and I wasn’t amused by whatever bullshit they would try to pull, they were already opening the doors to me and gesturing for me to enter with smug smirks. My whole actor bit got thrown off and I stared at them shocked for a moment, before I hurried to scramble inside much to the distaste and grumbling of people waiting in the line right behind me. There was some disgruntled shouting, a warning growl and then the door fell shut and I was left in the dark hallway leading deeper into the heart of the club. That was entirely too easy.

From here, I could only sense the loud drums pulsing through the walls, their faint echo thrumming through my very bones, as I mechanically forced a foot in front of the other, pushing myself back into my carefree smug attitude. Stop being stupid, I thought to myself, something like this can’t throw you off. But it did mean that Yoongi was already no doubt alerted to my presence, sitting like a king in that red balcony waiting for me to get there.

Well, I couldn’t let him wait for long, could I? We had a game to play.

Somewhat nervously I shuffled with my clothes, choosing to show up in a little bit more club appropriate attire so I could sell my arrogance and triumph, and flaunt it properly in their face. I had to appear strong, this was a crucial moment between us and I couldn’t fumble here. Though, deep down I felt like this evening, just like all of my other encounters with the man, would inevitably end in disaster. Still, I made sure my skirt and crop top were in place, short heels properly strapped and hair and earrings where I wanted them to be, hoping my makeup still looked as okay as it did when I left my apartment.

This afternoon, as I desperately tried to come up with some sort of a plan, I had realised everyone around Yoongi always walked around in pristine high-end clothes, while I ended up running after them dressed in rags, basically. The encounter with Miss Kim only strengthened this idea within me. I had to step up my game. I had to learn how to play by their rules just enough to get away with it. So, I made sure to dress up a little. Only a tiny bit.

With a deep stabilising inhale and exhale, I set out down the hallway and down the stairs into the main room. I ignored the bar that opened up to my right and went straight for the VIP section entrance. I was anticipating to run into a little more trouble here, as I made my way towards the two unsmiling bouncers all jittery and trying to look more confident than I’ve ever been in my entire life; but upon seeing me, they just stepped to the side, unhooked the red rope and waited for me to walk through.

I did, though my nerves grew with every step I took up those stairs, knees and hands slightly shaking, and I clutched my little handbag until I risked damaging it. The upper floor, the VIP section, was just as intimate and infinitely more pleasant than the downstairs as the last time I was here, and my eyes quickly scanned through the seated guests, trying to make out whether there was someone I recognised, but it was too dark. I caught the barman’s eye and he winked at me cheekily, gesturing at an alcohol bottle he was just fiddling with, attempting to lure me in to buy a drink. My returning smile was apologetic, but it did stop me, and I found myself just awkwardly standing there looking towards the wall where I knew the balcony entrance was.

Trying out the same strategy as before, I loudly inhaled and exhaled, forced my body back into working order, and started moving slowly towards them. With every step I shoved a little more false confidence and condescending attitude to prepare myself, steadily growing surer in those heels and schooling my expression.

Just like downstairs, the bouncer moved out of my way and allowed me to enter the private zone, but as I caught a glimpse of his face, I did a hasty double take. A wry grin made it onto my face, watching the man up and down.

“Good evening, Mr. Choi,” I greeted the bodyguard with a sense of mocking in my tone, a sentiment he gladly returned in his patronising little bow he did towards me, eyes fighting to not roll to the back of his head. I chuckled and moved on, finally climbing those last few stairs.

Coming face to face with the men after such a long time was truly terrifying, especially as I stood there in my ditzy little outfit in front of several of the most dangerous criminals in the city and noted the shock and interest in their eyes as they fully took me in. Several different instincts warred through me – to hide away, to run, to flounder under their attention, to throw my attitude into their face, but all I could really manage was stand there in a manner I hoped that screamed carefully constructed indifference.

Yoongi was spread out on the central sofa, just like last time, comfortably seated in a way that almost made him seem half melted into the soft furnishing, but his eyes were sharp just like his smirk, thoroughly studying me. I could already see the cogs in his head turning, realising this was a beginning of a new game, even more exciting than the last one. I fought the shudder that tried to overtake me under his heavy gaze and instead turned my attention to the sofa next to him.

There was no Jungkook today, his dark sulking mass would be hard to miss, but Taehyung was here, elegantly sitting near the corner of his settee with one arm curling around the top of it and the other gently laid on his crossed legs. Everything about him screamed how comfortable and confident he felt, all the way to the playful smirk and studious eyes. I would have to be more careful around him, he was kind of a whole lot to deal with and I had no idea whether I could take that tonight.

But I couldn’t stop the surprise from displaying clearly on my face as I clocked in the last figure in the room, sitting close next to Taehyung, full body turned to me with a wide smile that had a dangerous edge to it and strangely deep dark eyes that had my fingers trembling in a tinge of fear. It was Hoseok, dressed in a nice suit and comfortably sitting there with a glass of alcohol loosely held in his hand, swirling over his expensive shoes. He was grinning at me like we were old friends, but somehow that made me even more wary of him, an unease setting into my insides that had me reconsidering whether tonight was a good idea.

But I was already here, so. No way but forward.

Gathering my wits back I plastered a smile on my face and regarded the three men with a cheery “Gentlemen” while I made my way towards the little chair sitting straight across from Yoongi. It was my place anyway, we all knew it, he clearly had all the unwelcome guests sitting on it to make them uncomfortable and unsure of themselves, so I had to own it as effortlessly as possible.

“Well, what a pleasant surprise, officer,” Yoongi started with his smooth voice that he only used when he was being intentionally an ass, “Come here to club and destress on a tough Friday night?” His eyes flicked down to my attire and then back to me, the amusement shining through alongside another strange glint to his eyes. He was interested in what my strategy was here, inviting me to set my starting pieces.

I ignored him and turned straight to Hoseok, finding his dark unsettling eyes already on me, but I forced myself to smirk lightly. “Shocked to see you here,” I said with my full voice, a cheeky undertone to my words, “Aren’t there enemies to be murdered? Bones to be buried?” His eyes narrowed slightly, smile turning a bit sharper. I’d never really spoken to him before, and our first exchanged words were a taunt from me? It was as brilliant as it was stupid, but it did throw the man off for a few seconds, his face immediately becoming a little more closed off, the happy smile still dutifully in place.

“Everybody deserves a day off here or there,” he retorted back, drawing an amused smirk to Taehyung’s face. Yoongi was watching us closely, studying the interaction before taking the control back.

“Could I interest you in a drink?” he asked, testing the waters, sharp eyes observing me. I nodded. He smirked. “Perfect,” he hummed, “Finally truly came here on a day off?” I only chuckled in response, watching him wave to someone behind me, presumably to Soobin. I squirmed a little on the tiny seat that simply must have been designed to torture the people sitting on it, always playing a balancing game on the little square with nothing to really lean on. The dark-haired man’s eyes still followed my every movement and he suddenly gestured to the space next to him.

“Of course, if it would be more comfortable for you, you’re welcome to join us on the settee,” Yoongi drawled out with a smirk, Taehyung hungrily watching our interaction with some sort of dark amusement glinting in his eyes. It made me shudder, nerves threatening to swallow me whole under their intense scrutiny, especially since Hoseok was also present. I would have never guessed I’d meet him here, casually drinking with Yoongi. Somehow I gained the idea that he just always crawled around in the dark like some kind of a mythical creature.

I pushed all of the uncomfortableness to the edges of my consciousness and quickly straightened, moving to the sofa in a few confident strides. This suddenly put me much closer to the man than I’ve ever been before, my stomach revolting and filling with lead. I quickly clasped my hands together nonchalantly to hide the slight tremor that started up again in them.

If Yoongi was surprised by my decision, he didn’t let it show and only continued to regard me with rampant curiousness and interest. I felt like a puzzle game that he desperately tried to solve just for fun, and it was increasingly more difficult to not start tensely shifting around; my eyes flitting around the room and lungs seizing until it was hard to consistently breathe.

I figured since I sat like this with Jimin in The Rose when I went there I’d be fine now, but I should have known that Yoongi himself was a completely different ballpark. He shifted around in his seated until he was half turned to me, leisurely lounging on the red velvet with one arm rested on the top and the other playing with a glass of what I assumed was whiskey. He was a picture of aloofness and power, all painted in black and red, and his aura was slowly crushing me like I had found myself at the bottom of the ocean. All I could do was try not to flounder too much and stand firmly.

I had come here to play their little game, to shock them and throw them off, to show them that I can keep up, that I’m not just a stupid little girl that’s in over her head. I needed to be bold, to play with them the same way they play with me. So, I took a few steadying breaths and ignored the way my whole body was screaming at me to leave, instead grinning self-assuredly at the man.

The silence stretched on, the other two men present sat back and watched Yoongi with amusement and something akin to respect in their eyes as he stared me down. For few long moments no one said anything, and Yoongi’s eyes just bored straight deep into my soul, picking me apart and making me squirm uncomfortably in my seat. Unlike the first time he did this to me, I fought to keep myself defiantly staring back but I couldn’t hold the eye contact, every few seconds flitting to something else before I looked at him again, shame creeping into my features. His smile grew larger and more entertained until I couldn’t take it anymore.

Just as I started considering just turning away from him in humiliation the moment was broken by a waiter coming in to serve me a cocktail and I exhaled deeply in relief just as Yoongi chuckled and nodded at the boy. I took the drink eagerly, absolutely ecstatic that I had something to put my attention to instead of those fuckers smiling smugly right next to me. The drink was something very fruity and it tasted sweet, my features immediately perking up in delight as the taste hit my tongue.

Next to me Yoongi chuckled again, and I pointedly ignored him until he spoke. “Your eyes are so genuine,” he muttered, something warmer than just plain amusement creeping into his voice, “Everything’s so clearly written all over your face.” I froze at the tone, my mind transported back into The Rose to the respect he so clearly showed towards me, and I almost fled the club in absolute panic at the reminder of why I distanced myself in the first place.

I wasn’t the only one thrown off though, Hoseok sitting right at the corner of my vision visibly tensed at Yoongi’s words and looked at him in a way that could only be described as a warning glare. Not that the man himself paid him any mind, though I was sure he certainly knew of what Hoseok was doing right to his side.

But even when all of my alarms were going off in my mind and I was so undeniably shown just how much I was losing control of the whole situation (if I even had any from the beginning) and how I got myself into real trouble fraternising with Yoongi and going along with his stupid little whims, trying to outwit him and always managing to play right into his hands, I still stubbornly refused to stop. I still stubbornly refused to back down and admit to myself this was slowly crossing lines I couldn’t afford to cross, I still tried to force myself to believe that it would mean my defeat, my surrender. And I couldn’t surrender, that’s what he wanted. It was pedal to the metal all the way, baby.

I pulled myself back together and shot him a carefully crafted smirk in return. “Don’t try to butter me up with your words, you’re not taking me home tonight,” it took everything in me not to flush at the insinuation, and I cocked my head to the side with a cheekiness I’ve seen from him many times before to sell it properly, giving him back what he always gave me (especially in The Rose with Jimin, those bastards). But the answering grin that immediately spread over Yoongi’s face had me nervous again. He looked like he won the lottery, like I just perfectly played into his cards. The man just leisurely brought his drink to his lips, before a look crossed his eyes.

“Of course I’m not, that police officer is,” he retorted nonchalantly, one eye cheekily looking to me to gauge my reaction over the rim of his whiskey glass. I froze, some spectacular mix of emotions passing through my face, and I had no idea what kind of expression was set there, but it greatly entertained my whole audience, all three of them grinning like wolfs that just stumbled upon a little girl in the middle of the woods. My heart gave a few painful jerks, and I buried my face in the glass again, hoping to regain some composure.

“Been following me too, huh?” I shot back weakly, head still spinning from this particular information coming out his lips. God damn him, god damn them all. The man laughed at that like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Of course, my favourite police officer just suddenly disappeared,” he said in a mock worried voice, “I had to make sure that you were alright. What if you needed help, officer?” Now my whole body trembled as I went over my whereabouts in the past two months. How much did he know? What did he see me do? Does he know what we’re investigating? Is he aware of what we’re trying to spin him into? Did I doom this operation right from the start without even realising it?

Yoongi was blissfully unaware of my inner turmoil and happily continued yapping. “Though I must say you have a rather boring life, somehow I expected a detective’s life to be more interesting,” he mocked some more, but really I didn’t care about what he thought about my life. I needed to know how much he knew about my work.

“Must have been at least a little interesting,” I tried to spin him to talk more, forcing my hands to calmly pick at my skirt to play up my aloofness, “had you interested in why the sudden absence, did I not?” He chuckled lightly, eyes dissecting me carefully with a cheeky look.

“I’m always up to indulging you and your little games, officer,” Yoongi half whispered back to me, leaning lightly forward, “Keeps my life more interesting. At least I have something to do over my lunch break.” I regarded him, spread there on the sofa leisurely like he owned the whole city, smirking himself half to death, and I decided to take a gamble.

“Oh, I have the most interesting game prepared for you,” I whispered too, subconsciously leaning in as well to make sure he heard me, “Trust me, you’re going to love it.” From this distance and under this lighting his eyes looked absolutely consumed in darkness and even as they crinkled in amusement, there was something predatory in them, especially as his lips curled up delightedly. I couldn’t help myself but think he looked almost like a tiger spirit that just managed to catch another poor soul unawares.

But when I searched the black irises for any signs of mockery or knowing, I only found pure interest and eagerness to see how this unfolds. With careful hope I allowed myself to believe that he somehow managed to miss me going to the crime scene or to Miss Kim’s house, for a short moment thanking the unit for not taking me with them as often as it clearly prevented from spoiling Yoongi his surprise.

He probably wasn’t expecting me to push an actual investigation against him at all, and probably also wasn’t warned by the Kims that we were asking around about those warehouse murders. That’s when a true smirk unfurled on my face, all the despicable joy I felt about paying him back surfacing freely onto my face.

There was a new kind of calculation reflected in his gaze, eyes never suspicious but always storing away every little detail about our interaction.

The atmosphere between us grew tense, I almost felt the air crackling, almost tasted the electricity on my tongue. I finally leaned back away from him, mirroring his relaxed posture and took a long sip of my drink.

My eyes flitted to the two other men that have just been silently sitting to the side watching the whole interaction, and suddenly I flushed realising they witnessed my shameless taunting of their boss. Hoping the light would hide any unusual colour on my face, I rather focused on deciphering their expressions.

Taehyung was watching me like a new toy that he couldn’t wait to figure out, like a game that he’s been dying to play and find out how the story ends. It made me shift uncomfortably under such raw curiosity, though I’ve been slowly getting used to the fact that he was just someone that would inevitably always throw me off. The man was basically 85 % deception and 15 % flirting, I’d rather keep myself amused by other means than striking up any kind of conversation with him.

Hoseok on the other hand had during our discussion leaned back into the sofa and he watched me with his face closed off and clean off any smile, only apprehension shining through in his gaze. He watched me with distrust and like I was a problem he wouldn’t hesitate to solve. That sent a wave of shivers and goosebumps down my back, finally giving me the opportunity to see the man behind the mask. This was the man people feared, this was the man the petty criminals respected, or they’d find themselves solved. This was the man that walked amongst the docks, and everybody listened. I fully believed that had Yoongi given the order, he’d be happy to get rid of me right here in the club.

Sitting here, drinking leisurely while these three men grinned at me like hungry wolves, I fully realised just how far deep into shit I shovelled myself with this personal justice route I had taken. Yoongi kept me around only because it amused him to watch me struggle and both Jungkook and Hoseok were firmly against indulging me.

As much as I enjoyed annoying Jungkook cause he was one of the members that always let his anger show, and that was very therapeutic for me, I was aware the reason why I was such a sore in his existence was because he hated how close Yoongi let me. Given the chance he’d prolly kill me even without Yoongi’s orders.

Other than that, Jimin and Namjoon were dangerous to be around and speak with, and Seokjin I haven’t even met, but Jimin insinuated he was also getting a little trigger happy when it came to my meddling. Now gloves were off and I was truly treading thin ice. One misstep and I would turn into a warning, just like any cop that got too close. Up until now it was all fun and games, what’s a little tailing and tracking between friends, but once I put this investigation to life, I’d truly be in danger of retribution.

I once again glanced at the satisfied grin on Yoongi’s face, at his hands gently clasped around a whiskey glass, at his relaxed shoulders and designer suit and shoes, pretty hair curling around a pretty face, and I saw the violence hiding underneath. He was good at masking his, and that made him so dangerous. It was so easy to forget what kind of man you were talking to. And from now on I would risk standing in the direct line of Hoseok’s ire as well.

I threw back the rest of the cocktail I had in my glass, my stomach protesting as I hadn’t eaten much the whole day, and I stood up to leave. I felt their stares on me, all three of them burning through me with those fiery eyes, each of them showing a different kind of craze. The gaze of a puppeteer, the gaze of a honeytrap and the gaze of a killer.

I shuddered and moved away from them, closer to the edge overlooking the rest of the club. Everyone was enjoying just a normal Friday night, having absolutely no idea what was going on just a few metres above them. I envied them a little bit, I envied how carefree they seemed.

“Feel free to enjoy yourself tonight,” Yoongi spoke suddenly into the silent tension, “The drinks are on me.” With his arm he gestured over the railing of the balcony, down to the pit of bodies moving together to the rhythm as one. Suddenly the spell was broken and I once again started to percieve the loud club music blaring throughout the whole space as it reverberated through my bones.

Without me noticing, Yoongi had stood up as well and moved to me, his presence and the warmth radiating off of his body abruptly crowding me in against the railing. I froze in a moment, just sensing him right behind, close enough to make me feel he was there but not enough to touch, as he leaned in close to whisper in my ear.

“You do deserve to let loose and relax once in a while,” he spoke to me in a hypnotising drawl, his voice turning into almost a purr, “So don’t be shy… indulge.” A full body shiver wracked through me, making me jerk in place with the force of it, and for a brief moment I wondered whether this is what it felt like to be sung by sirens into a sure death. Yoongi chuckled again, a low rumbly sound that made me twitch, and then he stepped away from me.

The cool air rushing in broke the spell and I collected my bearings again, throwing a disgruntled stare at him over my shoulder while my knees fought to work again, hands clenching the railing like it was the only thing currently keeping me alive. I just managed to catch a glimpse of the man’s sardonic grin before he turned completely and left.

The two other men stood up as well, both of their faces once again amused by my plight as I was very obviously flustered by Yoongi’s behaviour, before they stepped out right after their boss, leaving me completely alone in the luxurious balcony bathed in red velvet and sin.

Defeatedly I sat down onto the nearest sofa with an ‘oompf’, all bones turned into soup as I decompressed now that the oppressive atmosphere left with them, and blankly stared at a wall for a moment before I was able to process things normally again. My phone started wildly buzzing in my little handbag and I decided that ignoring whatever just happened and taking the distraction it offered me was a better choice than to dwell on it.

Fishing the phone out, I checked the neglected notifications, not much really coming in except for a text from Cheol confirming he read my email about the files and that he’d be ready Monday to go over it once more and some social media pings. And then, a very noticeable slew of messages from Minjoon. The first one was from 19:22, which was around the time I arrived here, asking whether I’d still be up for a dinner. It was currently over 8pm, but there was a few more asking minor questions with the newest one only from a few minutes ago.

I quickly opened the chat and answered an affirmative, my brain just begging for me to distract myself from tonight’s happenings. Minjoon was happy to hear from me and I finally took him up on the offer to drive me, as I couldn’t exactly sit behind a wheel right now.

On my way out I pointedly ignored the bartender’s small smirk, or the bouncer’s curiously raised eyebrows, I ignored Yoongi sitting at the downstairs bar chatting amicably with the guy manning it and sending me very unsubtle mirthful glances, I ignored Taehyung’s flirty wave as I passed him in the hall and most of all I ignored Hoseok leaning against a sleek black car outside of the club with a cigarette between his fingers, icy eyes following my figure for as long as he could.

The second I disappeared behind a corner I half expected him to run after me and grab me, the feeling of being watched slithering along my back in a way that made me shudder in disgust and fear. I hurried towards a bigger road, the Friday evening rush swallowing me and hiding me amidst drunken college kids, foreigners and working folk trying to forget their responsibilities for at least one night. I could relate to that, but no matter how much these meetings took away from me, they always gave me some sick satisfaction in return. And I couldn’t wait for the day I truly bested him.

I waited around for a few minutes, just enough to have the evening chill start setting into me, before a familiar car came into view, slowing down until I could hop in quickly. Minjoon smiled at me warmly, his eyes getting caught on my outfit and he fought for a few moments to keep his eyes on the road. I blushed deeply under his gaze and felt the relief of not having to police my reactions like I did with Yoongi, finally getting the chance to freely feel without fearing his mocking eyes.

“Where were you?” he asked incredulously, voice a little shaky as his glances kept getting caught on my short skirt and exposed legs. There was an electric current going through me at his obvious interest, a fire slowly waking to life right under my skin, and I found myself subconsciously trying to fold my legs in a way that make them look even prettier.

“Just out with some friends,” the lie slipped out of my lips so easily I didn’t even stop to think about feeling guilty about it, too preoccupied with feeling the tension between us slowly cracking, clutching the handbag like a lifeline and revelling in my rising heartbeat. I felt so free, so opposite of how nervous and jittery Yoongi made me. And I wanted.

“I see, I thought you were going home to rest, so I didn’t want to bother you at first,” Minjoon said, lips turning into another warm smile, which I returned tenfold, my whole face lighting up.

“I’m glad you did, I was getting hungry,” I told him teasingly, “It’s always nice with a personal chauffeur, you know?” He went along with my teasing happily, hands attractively flexing on the steering wheel as he shot me a look with one eyebrow raised, lips playing with as subtle smirk. The whole atmosphere shifted; the tension close to overflowing. Suddenly it became very clear to us that we’ve been dancing around the line for too long.

“So where to, your highness?” Minjoon asked, even though he was obviously already driving with some goal in his mind. I only grinned at him and responded: “Wherever you want, sir.”

The place turned out to be a cute little restaurant, the kind that is open at all times of the day and a girl in full club attire in the evening wasn’t a strange sight there. I had to laugh at Minjoon’s choice, as he clearly improvised upon seeing how I was dressed. But the man was watching me with something I could call fondness in eyes and that was all that mattered to me as he placed his hand on the small of my back and led me inside.

Once seated, I found that there wasn’t really even a need for talking about the team, and frankly I wasn’t even in the mood to be discussing Yoongi when I had just met with him and was doing my best to distract myself from that. Minjoon was still watching me with some sort of fascination, his gaze flickering between intrigued and sensual, and I was sure he also wasn’t particularly interested in work related topics.

We exchanged some more flirty grins while we ordered, but politely waited to be alone before starting up any kind of conversation.

“So… outing with friends?” Minjoon started, gaze once again slipping to my attire before jumping back to my face slightly flushed. I only nodded, too spent to come up with something and spend my evening lying. “I wasn’t really feeling it,” I added after slight deliberation. Minjoon grinned.

“Was feeling up to meeting me though,” the man retorted, flirty expression taking over his face, “Gonna make me feel special. Be careful or it might go to my head.” I chuckled at him, leaning over the table to graze our fingers lightly together. Minjoon’s eyes immediately jumped down and zeroed in on the place of contact before he looked back to me, eyes hooded.

Suddenly feeling parched, I licked my lips, rolling my tongue along them slowly and curled them into a sly smirk. “Everybody deserves to feel a little special,” it came out almost on a whisper, the tense atmosphere setting between us and freezing us into our spots with dark eyes and hungry stares.

I still felt jittery from my encounter earlier in the night and it mixed together with the anticipation of what was to come from this, throwing me into a whirlwind of emotions that made my body tremble slightly. My stomach was all knotted up, but it didn’t feel unpleasant, instead there was excitement brewing and slowly spreading through my bloodstream.

Even after the food arrived, the air kept getting tenser, even as we attempted to have regular conversation, it crackled between us like an onsetting storm. Every word, every sentence inlaid with telling mischievous smiles and expressive eyes. Sometimes during the dinner it started dawning on me that this was inevitable, we both were already too far. With all the flirting we’ve been doing this was really only a matter of time, and it just so happened that tonight the tension was going to explode into something that we probably shouldn’t be doing.

I looked over at Minjoon again, properly eyeing him and his expression, and when his gaze met mine and darkened as he sat there with his cheeks dusted with pink, hunched over like he was ready to launch himself over the table, sitting there like he would rather be anywhere else and preferably somewhere where there were no barriers between us, that’s when I realised he also wasn’t as opposed to this as he should have been.

The small talk flew all stilted between us and we mostly just stewed in our own cocktails of emotions and sensations, trying to chew through our food as fast as possible so we could leave; and even though it was already a little chilly outside, there was a heat coming from within that was enough for a thin line of sweat to bead along my hairline. I couldn’t imagine what picture I painted at that moment, if with one look it was obvious how the arousal was steadily rising in my veins with every another second spent just shyly exchanging heated stares.

Every so often my eyes slipped a little lower, eyeing the young man’s collarbones just peeking out from his dark green tee, sliding up and down his arms as he leaned on the table and ate, and I could see from the delighted sparkles glinting in Minjoon’s eyes that he was aware, and very much returned the favour.

God, this was definitely going to end in disaster. There was no way we could avoid this any longer.

And I was right.

Once done with the food, we sat around for a moment just looking at each other silently, before Minjoon finally gestured towards the door. “You wanna go? I’ll drive you home,” he offered immediately, the kind words that I was already used to by now tinged by something a little more tonight. I nodded and after some flirty arguing over who’s going to pay, I finally surrendered and went outside to wait for Minjoon to settle the bill.

The cold air rushed over me and cooled my burning skin a little and I took a few big breaths to ground myself. The night Seoul was loud and lively, I found myself surrounded by joyful groups and couples dressed in their best sitting in restaurants and eating or walking around the sidewalk laughing, clearly aiming for one of the establishments in the area. It was quite refreshing to see, and I lost myself in the rush and buzz, watching others enjoy themselves.

And that’s how Minjoon found me when he came out, sitting on a little wall by the sidewalk dreamily staring off into the distance. He came over, hand going straight to my face, gently catching a strand of my hair and slowly pushing it behind my ear. He lingered there for a moment, fingertips brushing the reddening tip as all the blood rushed to my face in a mighty blush. On instinct I ducked my head being too flustered and broke the contact, but the man just smoothly moved to my shoulder, pushing me up to stand.

He was very natural in his movements, pulling me to his side and wrapping his arm around my shoulders very lightly, and I just went with it, too shy to express it but too happy to go against it. I fought against the instinct to giggle like a schoolgirl and set out to his car, which was quite a short walk, and unfortunately to my apartment it was a quite short drive as well, even in the restless silence that stretched between us.

Our arrival at my doorstep seemed to have come sooner than I was anticipating, sooner than I was ready to end this little outing. I turned to the brown-haired man and studied his face for a moment. We steadily exchanged eye contact, the tension between us back with vengeance, my throat drying up under his dark gaze. I was fluttering on the edge of propriety, in my head still repeating all the reasons why this was such a bad idea, but it didn’t seem to matter when Minjoon watched me with the same longing and desperation. I felt my skin heating up, my insides stirring with something I haven’t properly felt in such a long time it hit me with a ferocity I wasn’t prepared for.

“Aren’t you going to go home?” he whispered so lightly I almost didn’t hear him. He sounded slightly breathless, tone curious and probing.

“Can you walk me to the door?” I shot back immediately, almost unthinking. He licked his lips, his kind face getting twisted with something akin to intense desire before he quickly nodded, and we both scrambled to get out of his car.

The walk was brief, of course it was. I lived on a second floor and my door was accessible from an outside walkway, so all we had to do was clear two stories of stairs and we suddenly found ourselves by my tiny apartment.

I turned to Minjoon, something expectant in the air between us, and each second ticking by felt like a countdown to the inevitable. I wasn’t ready to end this night here. I knew I wasn’t. And judging by Minjoon’s bottomless eyes, I could confidently gamble on his interest and hit jackpot every time.

As the tense silence stretched out a little, neither of really sure how to tackle this situation as we were caught in the ‘will we won’t we’ and ‘should we shouldn’t we’, until I decided to break the curse. Stepping a little closer and looking up at him through my lashes, my hand latching onto the sleeve of his jean jacket that he put on in the car and tugging lightly, I steeled myself and jumped over the line head first.

“Do you want a cup of coffee before you go?” the whispered question escaped my lips and hung for a few moments between us. I watched as if in slow motion as Minjoon took it in and nodded once, then twice, and then his hand caught mine.

I turned hastily towards the door, jabbing the key in and pushing inside without a single thought in my mind. It turned out, there wasn’t even a need for an awkward pretending of drinking anything, because the second the door closed behind us, we were on each other.

It was like dam broke between us and we suddenly couldn’t stop, couldn’t keep our hands off each other. Minjoon kissed me quickly and desperately and I fought to keep up, hands going around his neck immediately while his snaked around my waist. Taking off shoes long forgotten, we stumbled inside and towards the sofa.

In that moment, I didn’t have the mental capacity to think about the huge maps in my bedroom. I didn’t realise how lucky I was we didn’t make it any further, too lost in the way Minjoon’s tongue was finally sliding against mine and how his calloused hands caressing my sides felt a lot like heaven.

And when he inevitably got his hands on my skirt and I inevitably thought of Yoongi’s eyes taking me in when I arrived at the balcony, and when Minjoon pulled me closer and I thought of Yoongi’s presence caging me in with his warmth against the railing, of his lips turning into a smug smirk as Minjoon kissed me, then I just pressed my eyes closed harder and tangled my hands into his short brown hair, banishing all thoughts of curly black locks far away into the deepest corner of my mind.

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